The dining room at Black's house. 5:00 in the afternoon.
*
"Kreacher!"
"Yes, sir!"
I love that moment!
"Go to Gringotts, tell any goblin, without attracting the attention of visitors, that you came on behalf of the heir of the Black family to master Shnagrog. Wait for Master Shnagrog, get a list of properties and portkeys from him."
"Master, yes, master."
Twenty minutes later, Kreacher brought me a sealed envelope with a Gringotts emblem and a deck of playing cards. I ripped up the envelope.
"Dear heir to the Black family,
As agreed at our last meeting, I send you a list of properties and portkeys. These portkeys, as opposed to emergency reusable.
Real estate:
Mansion in London, Grimmauld Place, 12. portkey ace peak.
Castle in Scotland, near Alford. portkey ace of diamonds.
House in France, near Lormes. portkey lady of diamonds.
A house in Hogsmeade. portkey king of spades."
Maps are funny. Amber would be a funny place for me.
"Kreacher, give me the robe!"
"Master, yes, master!"
"Kreacher, do you know any other way out of Diagon Alley besides The Leaky Cauldron?"
"There are many, sir. Only the bandits are waiting for you all and they only let their own through."
"Is our fireplace connected to the web?"
"Connected, sir only blocked. And the government is tracking the fireplace system. It could be dangerous for you."
"Have you been to other houses of the family?"
"I haven't, sir, but I can feel them and I can get there at any time. Except no one's lived in the castle for a long time. There's nothing to do without repairs. A house in France is a hunting house one room away from the roads. A house in Hogsmid was destroyed eleven years ago and there's a wasteland."
Well, hello there! All I had to do was ask Kreacher and find out what I needed. Although it's not that bad, I'll look at every place myself, I've got a portkey now.
"I'll rebuild these houses when I'm a lord. Why didn't the goblins tell me about this?"
"Sir, they keep property papers, but it's not their business to check the houses."
Ah, there are a lot of complications around here! I'm already dressed, ready to visit at least a couple dozen Black houses one by one. But there's a hunting lodge on the menu. And there's no point in going into the woods tonight. It's better to get out in the morning, have a barbecue in the open air, that is, and have a good time.
"Kreacher, prepare the meat for the barbecue. Tomorrow at noon, we go to a house in France, yes."
*
D-Day. France, near Lormes. Noon, August 8, 1991.
*
Portkey carried me to the edge of a hundred and fifty yards wide forest meadow. Right under my feet was a path leading out of the forest and into a one-store log house on a stone foundation. And as a matter of fact, the path was not overgrown. But this house hadn't been visited by the Blacks in ten or even twenty years.
The picnic's off. I went back down the path, into the woods, to the nearest bush groves.
"Kreacher, the protection of the house is broken?"
"It's scattered with no food, sir. There's no room for strength, though something is beginning to emerge; the cornerstones of the foundation haven't been sprinkled with Black's blood in a long time. Only the muggle-repellent spells still work."
There was a wolf-like howl from the side of the house. What the devil? Werewolves in the daytime? Or can they just whine during the day, too?
"It's the Werewolf, sir, he's a human being."
It's time for the sword. My sword rolled from the sheath to my right shoulder. I was ready to meet uninvited guests at the Black family home. My revolver had taken its rightful place.
"Now celebrate, Kreacher! Remember what I said about the victims?"
"What, the Master will do it? Sir, werewolves are magical creatures. A good, strong sacrifice comes out of them."
"Wait for me here."
Suddenly, the door of the house opened and a good, strong victim just over two yards tall came out. The man was shaggy and bearded on the outside. A real drunk lumberjack. The lumberjack, meanwhile, confidently headed towards me, something joyfully speaking in French. I love the French! They can be happy always and everywhere. I welcome such enthusiasm, even from a nasty werewolf. I'll give you boarding in France, you bastard. Despite the young age, it wasn't a song that came out of my mouth, it was a growl:
We've been trained for years
Now we're ready to strike
As the great operation begins
We're the first wave on the shore
We're the first ones to fall
Yet have fallen before
In the dawn they will pay
With their lives as the price
History's written today
In this burning inferno
Know that nothing remains
As our forces advance on the beach
The werewolf first listened, almost stopped, and then rushed to me on all fours. The revolver reacted quickly. Bang! The bullet must have hit his leg because the werewolf stretched out on his stomach. But the bastard immediately jumped on his three. And the shot went off right away. The werewolf got a wound in his chest and fell from me at four yards. After that, he methodically took a bullet to the shoulder and a cloud of pepper mixture from the spray can to his face. Next, he acted like a typical pepper spray dog. The French werewolf betrayed the ideals of France! This is not Charmante at all. The shameful traitor of Belle France's true morals has gone to his senses. The werewolf rode the ground and whimpered. Where's your enthusiasm and joy of life, bitch? I stabbed him in the back of the head with my sword.
"Kreacher!" This Victim is to be taken to the basement of the mansion, undressed and chained. Then come back here, I'm going to need you."
"Sir, yes, Sir!" Kreacher was ecstatic. Well, you bet! It wasn't every Black that followed Black's tradition!
I went to the house. That's why we came here today, after all. The closer we got to the house, the worse it felt. There were a man and a girl about eight years old lying on the boardwalk on the floor of the house, all in one room. They were tied up with a steel cable.
The man was gray, and I suspect he's been gray recently. The girl was forced to curl up into an embryo position and the whole was conscious. There was a dead woman on the bed with clear signs of violence. Two people on the floor didn't notice me. The girl would not have noticed Voldemort in the flesh now, and the man prevented me from looking at the muggle repellent amulet. What am I supposed to do with them? Dressed like tourists on the road. I guess the werewolf at the camping site must have taken them in.
I went outside. Somehow I wanted to get some fresh air. That's when Kreacher came along.
"Kreacher, there's a girl in the house. Put her to sleep discreetly."
I took off the Amulet, and loudly, I walked into the house. The man noticed me.
"I'll help you!" I took off my backpack with the bag attached.
After shopping, I have items for all occasions. Thank you to the kind Muggles. I pulled out a tool to snack on the cable.
"Do you speak English?" I asked a man.
"Yes, help us, help us!" The poor guy wasn't wheezing or whining.
The cable was snacked in three places, and then the man started helping me free him. When his torso was free, I gave him a tool. When he was free, the man rushed to the girl, but I stopped him by putting my hand on his shoulder.
"She's asleep. Quiet, let her rest, she has suffered so much already."
Together with the man, we gently freed the girl from the cable. The man rushed to the bed, fell to his knees and cried, taking the woman by the hand. He remained still, repeating "Michelle..." I put the girl on the chair by the fireplace, pulled out a travel blanket from my backpack, and covered the woman's body. I barely helped the man up and took him outside and sat him down on the steps of the porch.
"How is this possible... for what... what I've done, God!" whispered the grey man to himself.
"The Lord's ways are mysterious. Maybe he sent me to save you. This is my family's house, and we haven't been here in fifteen years. Isn't it a miracle he sent me to save you today?" The psychoanalyst is like a Bella good fae. But I need a little cheering up for a man. It's not every day your wife is raped to death in front of your eyes.
"Then why didn't he send you yesterday? Michelle would still be alive!"
That muggle's nerve cooled me down. So do good deeds after that.
"But your daughter is alive," I came close to him to look him in the eye, "and she could have died today. Get it together! It's not over yet."
That's what I said for nothing. The man jumped up on his feet, his eyes widened, his fists clenched and unclenched.
"Where is he?"
"In the other world. I shot him four times."
The man first noticed me as a person.
"The body of the scoundrel had already been taken. The rescue team is coming," I nodded aside, "Kreacher! Put him to sleep."
The man fell on his back, and Kreacher looked me in the eyes. I got another blanket and a tourist card out of my backpack. I was getting so ready to go out in the countryside, and I ended up spoiled all day. I don't feel like eating meat after an accident like this.
"Kreacher. Twenty miles southwest, by the north shore of the lake, there's a camping site," I poked on the map. "Move there, find a place where we won't be seen immediately, and come back."
Kreacher came back in forty minutes. At that time, I took the girl on the doorstep and wrapped her in a blanket. I couldn't lift Michelle's body, just waiting for Kreacher. I didn't have a third blanket, for a man.
"I found it, sir! A small beach 30 yards away, separated from the camping site by bush thickets."
"Move three of them, and then me."
"Sir, yes, sir! Only I don't have the strength to move them back. Kreacher is old!" And he self-critically slapped himself.
I never understood the elves' desire for masochism! Strange creatures. But very useful.
"Back at Black's house, we'll be back at the portal. Do it!"
A minute later, I was standing on the beach, surrounded by bushland on all sides. I'm wearing a muggle repellent amulet again, I don't want to explain to the locals what I'm doing here. A signal pistol was removed from my bottomless backpack, and three red rockets with an interval of one minute went into the sky. Five minutes later, voices were heard, bushes were jammed, and two men came out to the beach. The woman was holding a red medicine bag. Seeing the victims, they rushed to them. The man spoke on the radio while helping the woman examine my unwilling guests. They were real French! The man's exciting speech was full of joy and enthusiasm. They found the victims! Everything will be all right! Then the man ran back and the woman stayed with the victims. It's done.
"Kreacher, give me your hand," I said, and I took the lady's diamonds out of the deck.
Once at the hunting house, I walked down the aisle and found a place to sprinkle blood. They were the only ones covered in patterns, and I sprinkled blood on them. It was as if a gentle breeze had blown, and the defense shell had immediately dissolved above the house. I called Kreacher, and we went home.
*
The fourth level of the dungeon, the ritual hall of the Black House. Midnight of August 8 to 9, 1991.
*
Kreacher is a great worker. It's a pity his merits were not described in the canon. The werewolf was chained right in the ritual hall, next to the altar, in the position of a Vitruvian man. He-heh, was it Da Vinci's art when he painted it? Or was it just an instruction to his descendants? The victim's ritual was simple. I need to cut out another living heart and put it on the altar, in the recess of the "plate". At four strikes, the werewolf's ribs were cut and Cutthroat took over. When I put the beating heart on the altar, the werewolf body and heart flashed at the same time. The hall was lighter and the pattern of curls and petals on the altar was slightly blue-green. Kreacher was waiting for me at the wall, the elf was tired of today's movements. But he leaped up, straightened up nicely, and looked younger and more alive from all sides. I also felt fresh, like the morning after exercise. I wanted to do something, it was impossible to stand still, so I headed to the dojo.
I finally realized what I was missing in this room. I miss the punching bag. A rare penguin will fly to the middle of the English Channel.
I mean, a rare magician expects to get a low kick or a mawashi.
While practicing sanbon-me, I concluded that today is truly a new page in the history of the Black family. The home of the Black family has returned to my hand. Besides, after a long pause, the ritual of maintaining the defense was performed.
I made a sacrifice and I loved it. I could feel myself touching ancient magic! All those wands and spells and witchcraft are bullshit! Pathetic instrument waving. The ritual caused something magical. Creepy and sweet. What kind of sex? What orgasm? It was an awesome feeling. I want to do it again.
And if I am destined to live a long life, the Black family will rise to heights it's never reached before.