บท 38: 38
Gringotts. 14 October 1991
*
At the bank, I was interested in recruiting.
"Master Shnagrog, what's the status?"
"Recruitment by Robert Ocean."
Shnagrog gave me a folder. What do we have here? Squib, served in the Navy as a helicopter pilot during the Folkland War. He's been a civil aviation pilot for the last seven years. Why isn't he flying? Well, pilots make good money. He's married, two kids.
Shnagrog invited Ocean. I gave a lecture to a man for recruits and I couldn't figure it out. Why isn't he flying on a citizen? I don't even have a helicopter. My finances haven't gone up to buying helicopters yet. Finally, I couldn't take it:
"Mr. Ocean, what was your interest in this job? An average helicopter pilot earns more than I'm offering. And working for me carries a certain amount of risk. It's not like I hire porters, its soldiers."
"Sir, the pilot's job pays well now, but it's a job to get a job. I've been out of work for six months now, and the kids need to be fed."
I had long doubts, and I didn't like the whole idea. I'm going to have his children orphaned on duty. And kids are a great way for Dumbledores to put pressure on my employees. That's a stupid idea. But why wouldn't it be? He wants to work, let him work. After signing the contract and putting the key in the village, I made an appointment tomorrow night. I'll pass it on to George. Have him drag it out in basic shooting training.
*
On the fourth of October, I gave an interview to the newspaper "The Owl of Paris" together with Delacour. All the content fits into the indignation. "How long! How long will the cute Veelas, the mathematical warehouse of the goblin's mind and the refined sniff of a werewolf are evaluated not by business, but by prejudice?" Showcase visits to these minorities were scheduled at weekly intervals under the sensitive supervision of reporters. It is necessary to show their undoubted reasonableness, an original culture, and innocence. The second thought put into readers' heads was a simple slogan. "Who's not with us is a racist, Grindelvald's accomplice!" This interview was the first step in a planned newspaper campaign.
The Spider was to be dealt with at the next quarterly meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards on Monday, December 16. Now, in mid-October, we could only layout the most general guidelines.
We had to prepare public opinion for magical Europe. We had to prepare information based on which to demand at a meeting to remove Dumbledore from the presidency of the International Confederation of the Wizards. I was preparing an operation to physically take over Dumbledore.
Delacour was responsible for preparing a public opinion on the continent. I had nothing to do with my "knowledge" of languages and "experience" in European politics. Delacour's been cooking in this cauldron all his life. His position was also much stronger than mine. I said I'd get press squeezes in English translation. My super alive person should be energetic, brutal, and charismatic and determined, not a traitorous angel. I shouldn't have let myself be pitied. The image of a weakling will stick, and then I won't wash it!
Delacour planned several waves of criticism of England, English orders, and English politicians. This critique never faded in the papers of the continent. But we had to amplify it at the calculated moments, and then let it calm down. Then to raise the wave again. As a result, the main heat will be in the middle of December, specifically on the numbers from Thursday the twelfth to Sunday the fifteenth.
In England I had to continue injecting information through Rita Skeeter. And that information formed the basis of the package for the International Confederation of Wizards. I had to collect, with Delacour's help if necessary, documents, and witness statements. For example, to talk to McGonagall. Some Frenchman would go to Canada, but I had to formulate the questions.
At the point of elimination of the Spider should have worked out plans by December 16, the main and spare. We couldn't say anything definite here yet.
The discussion was long and tiresome. Post facto, I thought about the situation and Delacour's behavior well. I realized that he doesn't particularly believe in the success of the entire operation. And the game is his win-win. In the worst case, the Spider will remain president of ICM, and will not physically eliminate him. But the press campaign will go, which is already good. I guess Alain was hoping to get some concessions out of Dumbledore at the ICM. He's using the dirt I've collected to pressure him.
The brothers, together with Creighton, meanwhile set up four hiding places in the woodlands. We've made a serious effort on Grimmo and in the village. The only unpleasant thing was the possible enemy attack on the brooms. It's hard to see this in advance, and the enemy can get to the border by air quickly. It wasn't uncommon in the previous "magic war". One hope for machine guns. In worry and preparation came Samhain, for whom I had a special hope.
In the Black Code, I found an excellent quick, and simple ritual. The only difficulty of which was in one ingredient. Fresh dragon eyes were needed! After the ritual, the magician's eyes had to accept the dragon's properties. He could see both warmth and darkness, and at an unreal distance in the air, and even see magical streams. Not a bad bonus for the short-sighted Potter.
*
Grimmo 12, ritual hall.
October 31, 1991.
When it got dark, I went down the aisle to the ritual hall. I sprinkled blood on it and pronounced the words of a shortened ritual of addressing the magic of the Genus. The dragon's eyes were extended to me by the Chinese. No problem, even a fresh heart. 300 galleons is a lot of money. The ritual was simple. I read the words, I put the eyes on the altar and went blind. For a few minutes I stood in the dark and scolded my stupidity. But then it became clear in my eyes. I wanted to eat. I sat and looked at the room with my new eyesight and thought about the events.
Rita Skeeter was sent to Hogwarts, working two hundred and fifty galleons a month, with orders to catch a possible sensation.
*
I got an alarm from Kreacher through the ring. Damn Spider!
"Kreacher! Where's the girl?"
"In the small living room, sir!"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Broken arm, sir, I put her to sleep. Potions from our suppliers are not suitable to treat a child."
I froze from those words. But who am I! I'm not a child anymore? Then the anger went away. In this house, the magic of the family will cure me.
While I was walking into the small living room, I knocked off the gathering code on the bracelet.
A girl was lying on a hard couch on her right side in a black robe, holding her left hand. Her brown hair almost completely covered her face. Her breath was smooth and deep, which calmed me down. Under her head Kreacher put a towel rolled up by a roller.
Four minutes later, George and Edward showed up and two minutes later, Creighton arrived. Creighton is good!
"Mr. Creighton! The girl has been attacked. Broken arm, possible other injuries."
Andrew took a step forward and removed the wand. He started speaking Latin. After another passageway, her three-dimensional skeleton was drawn over Hermione. The broken brachial bone was marked in red. After a few more manipulations, Creighton went into action. He healed deep scratches on his palms and knees. In my questioning eye, he answered.
"Dislocated fracture, I can cure it. No problem."
*
We put the still silent Hermione in the guest bedroom. Edward and Ocean headed to a fortified position a third mile from the mansion, Creighton and Senior Calhoun stayed in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Coffee will be delivered to Edward Kreacher, too, a little later.
"Gentlemen, guard the girl. George, sit with her for now. No one's allowed in except those I bring myself. I'll be there soon. Kreacher! Take me to the Granger house!"
I've got a portkey in Crowley, but for safety reasons, it's set to a point a few blocks from the Grangers' house.
Kreacher carried me right under the door, and then I sent him home. Where can dentists be on Thursday night? At home. Joan opened the door, and from my face, she knew something bad had happened.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She'll be all right. She's been attacked. Her arm was broken, and she was scared, she was evacuated by an emergency portkey. She needs you to calm her down, take care of her."
"You said you took care of it!" Joan was close to hysterical.
"I'm not a god, I did what I could. By the way, the two bastards who contributed to this in anticipation are dead. But apparently, another bastard was acting. I warned you not to let her into Hogwarts."
Joan, meanwhile, called Daniel, and briefly explained to him what was going on. I answered Daniel's questions that everything would be fine. The arm will heal tomorrow, we need to help Hermione deal with the shock. Finally, I'm sick of it.
"We're wasting time! All right, then. Take your clothes, money, documents, and credit cards. Soon, some assholes from school will show up here. They'll brainwash you and make you take her back to a madhouse called "school". They need to cover their political ass. Don't forget Hermione's clothes and papers. Quick!"
Forty minutes later, Mrs. Granger hugged Miss Granger on the third floor of the Grimmo Mansion. After leaving the family in the bedroom, I went back to the kitchen. We had improvised advice with George and Andrew.
"George, Andrew, Kreacher. I need to get out of here. Secure the house. I'll show up tomorrow. In the next few days, we'll transport them to France. I hope that's the end of the girl's problem. I don't think anyone will show up today, but be ready just in case!"
I left a meeting of these worthy men.
Immediately after the conversation, I wrote a letter to Rita Skeeter and then went to Gringotts.
*
Dear Miss Skeeter!
I dare hope you took my advice and received slaughter material at Hogwarts tonight. I ask you to describe as emotionally as possible the egregious fact of the incident. I hope it's your genius!
Tomorrow I will try to arrange an interview for you with a direct participant in the events. Don't thank me, I just want to see the triumph of truth for which you and I are fighting.
With sincere respect for your genius...
Harry Potter
*
At the time, I didn't know how much "slaughter" the material was.
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