Getting up from the table, I went to one of the phones in the hallway. I dialed Hermione's number and waited for an answer - it was Hermione who answered the phone.
"Hi, Mione. I want to talk about nothing, but there are more important things to talk about."
"Max, you as always - just business. But if you suddenly wonder, then I'm fine, and my parents and I are having a great time."
The giggles in her voice were more distinct than ever.
"I talked to my relatives about moving. I would even say evacuation."
"Already? I haven't even had a chance to bring it up. I really don't want to spoil their wonderful mood from our meeting."
"Be sure to bring it up. They will also need to move somewhere. You-Know-Who is no joke. Merlin knows what goes through his head."
"Tomorrow. Today everything is too ... Good."
"Agreed, Mione. I'll be busy in the near future, and you may not be able to get through. So use the owl. If there is something important or I just get bored, I'll let you know."
"No romance."
"I can write beautiful letters and send them by regular mail. There will be romance - expect a letter, and there will be, "I am writing to you, dear Hermione, this letter by the light of an oil lantern. The wonderful scent of old folios fills with fond memories of our gatherings in the library. For the third day in London, rain has been knocking on the rooftops without interruption, and an elderly neighbor, Bertha, has been coughing for the second day. Most likely, she got sick."
Hermione laughed softly.
"You should also send a letter by mail carriage. That would be great."
"I will."
"Okay, Max. Mom wants me to help with something in the kitchen. I hope it's not cutting vegetables..."
"You don't like vegetables?"
"I don't like cutting them."
***
The morning of the first full day of vacation traditionally began with sun bunnies that persistently and relentlessly, as if by magic, tried to shine right into my eye. This is annoying. But now that I'm awake, I won't go back to sleep, and I can't be lazy.
Warm-up, exercise, jog to the open sports ground. Working with my own weight and maximum weakening through hemomancy for greater effect - this is exhausting and distracting from various thoughts. I had to take off my T-shirt, staying only in an undershirt and wide black pants in the manner of army ones. I once again noticed that properly sewn, they give just incredible freedom of movement, but they don't look like a bag either.
"Whoa, man!" a voice came from the side, and I jumped off the horizontal bar.
Two blond guys in their early twenties, in athletic uniforms and clearly also after a run. They stood next to me and looked at me intently.
"How did you manage to build such muscles? How old are you?" the one on the right asked. "My name is Tom, by the way."
The guy held out his hand, and I immediately shook it. Not a wizard.
"And I'm James, you can call me J.D., last name there."
Shook the other guy's hand.
"Max."
"Yeah... So?"
"Well, I'm fifteen soon. It's just that I've been practicing every day since I was eleven. What? Is it so noticeable?"
"It is! I've only seen this in films about super fighters!" admired Tom.
"I'm not that big..." I shrugged.
"Yeah, well, not a bodybuilder. What's your diet?"
"I eat everything I can reach."
"Daaaamn... I bet all the girls are yours?"
I smiled.
"I don't think they care. Only guys ask, 'How do you train?'"
After laughing at the silly joke, the guys were about to leave.
"Okay, Max. You're not from around here, by the way?"
"I'm local, just in a private school almost all year round."
"Ahhhh, I see. Tough. I went to such a school," James nodded. "Creepy and boring. And strict. And here it's even..." he took a deep demonstrative breath. "It's even easier to breathe. We will be glad to see you here more often. We have a physical development club here. We share tips and experiences. Maybe you can tell us something or learn something new."
"When I'll have free time. Even on vacation, I'm busy."
In general, I found out where the local bodybuilders are located, from jocks to professional athletes. What for? I have no idea. They hadn't even seen the scars on the right side of my torso yet. Although... my shoulder was also hurt, and Tom seemed to cast a couple of interested glances at those scars but didn't say anything. Culture and upbringing.
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O' Valley of Plenty
O' Valley of Plenty, oh
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O' Valley of Plenty
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______________________
After the usual procedures, I ran back to the Knights' house. People around were already gathering for work, and the streets of residential quarters were simply replete with back and forth scurrying cars that had just been driven out of the garages of houses.
After a shower and breakfast, I changed into my favorite suit, except without the coat and the muffler. One wand in my sleeve, the other in a reduced cane that rested in the inside pocket of my vest. I wanted to wear the suit from the ball, the black one, but it was too formal.
As such, I apparated to Grimmauld Place and used the second wand to cast a Muggle-Repelling charm on myself. This is how I arrived at Black House, delighting Kreacher with my appearance. The old house-elf immediately decided to hurry up and prepared a table with tea and various cookies, muffins, and other sweets. Of course, he prepared this next to the portrait of Lady Walburga.
"So Max. As I understand it, the time has come for difficult and controversial decisions?" Walburga spoke up importantly, lighting her painted cigarette.
"Exactly. Because of Voldemort's activity, it's worth keeping my foster parents safe."
Walburga nodded gravely.
"His methods, Max, may prove to be... Harsh, if not cruel. I am now in a position to judge his actions with an open mind. If you have the Dark Lord's interest in you, you're in trouble. In the seventies, from the policy of "Purity of Blood," that is, following the traditions and rules of the family, there was nothing left but cruelty and murder. This, so to speak, boat, even then went to the bottom, and the captain also chained the crew to the sides with steel fetters."
"Somehow, it so happened that I ruined his triumphant rebirth by not letting him kill Potter."
"So you got his attention. You certainly won't be the first on the to-do list, but you will be there. But as a potential ally, or as an enemy ... Although, no difference. The methods will be the same for any scenario. If his supporters regain political influence, no matter in what way, then this influence will be directed to the destruction of Dumbledore. But more material methods - on the small objectionable ones. Blackmail, traps, deception, hostages, cunning plans ... It could be anything."
"And what am I supposed to do?"
"Remove your weaknesses. They are always people close to you."
"It's just the foster parents and Hermione."
"Is that the girl with the lush hair?"
I only nodded in response.
"Then that leaves the parents. Don't expect any active magical action from the Dark Lord anytime soon. Azkaban is not a resort. Of those left at large, not everyone can boast various professional magic skills. Even such as ours, old families have begun to forget that we are wizards, not Muggles with wands. Not everyone even visits their own library, not to mention a deep knowledge of magic. The main talents and geniuses have been imprisoned in Azkaban, and now they need to recover, or else they're as useless as a leaky cauldron, and I'm not talking about that smelly pub. It's just as useless, though."
"That is, first of all - relatives?"
"Yes. You and Hermione are going to Hogwarts in September, and you're relatively safe there. Unless you count the intrigues of the other children. Those rescued from Azkaban will more or less recover by October, and then the force actions will begin. Your foster parents will be left defenseless during that very period."
"I have already conveyed this idea to them. Hermione does the same."
"That's right. If the Dark Lord regains power or takes over the Ministry, parents of muggle-borns, guardians, and others will die first. Next, they will crush the Muggle-Borns, severely restricting their rights. Resistance will be equal to death."
"To make everyone happy - kill those who are not happy?"
"Exactly."
"Let's say. What should I do?"
"Study the books that Kreacher has prepared. Put in order some of the House's affairs and, in general, familiarize yourself with them. Of course, before my death, I organized everything so that at least ten, even a hundred years, nothing bad happened, but still."
"I see. Then I shall proceed immediately."
"Kreacher!"
With a distinctive sound, the old house-elf appeared nearby, immediately bowing.
"Have you prepared Orion's old office?"
"Yes, Lady Walburga. Kreacher did everything..."
"Take Max there and show him what's where."
Kreacher bowed and led me up the stairs. When we reached the third floor, we turned to a large dark carved door with a solid handle. Kreacher carefully opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
The office was nice. Massive wooden furniture, but the carvings are not pretentious, but rare and neat. Bookcases, cupboards with glasses and drinks, sofas and armchairs. On a large wooden table in the back of the office were several artifacts, an inkwell and quills on a stand, and a chair, what a chair! Leather, comfortable, massive. Everything feels solid and durable. After Kreacher tidied up the house, everything looks new, but at the same time, it has preserved and conveyed the spirit of the past. It seemed like only yesterday someone was sitting on the couch across the table, and Orion Black was signing another document.
Kreacher walked me to the table, and while I was getting comfortable, he began to lay the books in front of me. When the stack of them began to wiggle menacingly, he moved on to laying out various folders with parchments and quite ordinary sheets of paper. The pile grew larger and larger, but Kreacher only calmed down when I could barely see the hypothetical interlocutor in the chair across from me.
"These are all documents and books, dear Head," the little house-elf bowed. "If you need anything, be sure to call the unworthy Kreacher."
And disappeared.
"It seems... All those years in the Restricted Section, I've been preparing for this very moment."
A heavy sigh escaped on its own, and I reached for the first book.
"Okay, let's start...."
Toss a stone to your autor
O' Valley of Plenty
O' Valley of Plenty, oh
Toss a stone to your autor
O' Valley of Plenty