Harry Potter: New World - Chapter 405

When I reached Piccadilly on foot, deftly dodging the occasional person walking down the street, I heard the familiar “Oh-ho-ho” as the Pirate sat on a lamppost a couple of meters away from me. As soon as I approached, the owl, in its usual manner, dropped the envelope, which had glided precisely into my hands, and then, with a hoot of a goodbye, flew away. I checked the envelope for surprises while it was still flying, so I opened it without fear, and after reading the text, I immediately apparated away.

The spatial puncture of the apparation led me straight to the site for such movements, and opposite stood Delphine’s country house, covered with snow, and the witch herself stood in a tightly wrapped robe on the threshold. Judging by the way the robe bulged a little in different places, it was clear to me that some thick clothes with fur or some other collar were under it. We moved towards each other, and the witch took out a small book from under the robe.

“I hope,” she began instead of greeting, “that you won’t do anything rash.”

“Purely for study purposes,” I smiled, accepting the book and placing it in my bag, immediately throwing it over my shoulder. “Thank you. When do you want it back?”

“It’s a copy. As the saying goes: «Burn after reading.»”

“Will do,” I nodded, smiling again. “Thank you.”

Delphine nodded and escorted me back to the grounds, from where I apparated straight to Grimmauld Place, into the now familiar dark passage. After checking the surroundings with the Architect’s abilities and not finding anything suspicious, I quickly got to the twelfth house and went inside. Silence.

After hanging my coat on a hanger in the hallway, I cleaned myself of snow and dirt with magic, then went to the hall with a portrait of Walburga.

“A wonderful night for a walk, isn’t it?” a painted witch greeted me, contrary to expectations, drinking a glass of no less painted wine.

“You are right, Lady Walburga. However, I have no time to talk, and therefore, please excuse me.”

“Young people,” the lady uttered profoundly, taking a sip of wine. “Always rushing somewhere, hurrying, chasing one thing, losing another along the way, and not appreciating what you have.”

“That’s not we. That’s life,” I replied, heading for my office.

I heard a quiet and not at all aristocratic snort, showing Walburga’s attitude to what I said.

“Kreacher,” I said quietly, “make me a snack. I’m in my office.”

Even though the house-elf didn’t show up, I know he heard me, and so I had no doubt that there would be a snack.

Entering the office and inhaling the familiar and pleasant air filled with the aroma of expensive wooden furniture and subtle notes of books in the cabinets, I quickly sat down at the armchair, and took out the book I received from Delphine from my bag. I was only interested in one thing in this book — how a Horcrux is created. Although it is worth reading any other black stuff that is in these “Secrets of the Darkest Arts”.

A minute later, various light snacks appeared on the table, but I was already completely absorbed in fast reading and data processing. Nasty book. Perhaps the most disgusting of all I have read in the Restricted Section and in the Blacks’ Library.

Lines, diagrams, and descriptions of various magical manipulations calmly fit into the existing knowledge in my head, forming a kind of the whole picture. It was only in the morning that I finished with the book, destroying it with the help of Incendio and leaning back in an easy chair, allowing my consciousness to process the information.

“Morning tea, dear Head,” Kreacher called out to me, ​but I was only glad of such a thing.

The old house-elf put a tray with a mug of tea, a teapot, and a plate of very sweet cakes on an empty place at the table — just what my brain needed.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” I nodded, starting on such a breakfast.

“Old Kreacher is glad to serve the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black faithfully.”

Sometimes he says such lines, but I think it’s useless to do something here, and it’s pointless.