The brunette inhaled heavily, as if she hadn't breathed in ages, trying to take in as much air as she could, starving for it. Her chest rose and fell, stretching the fabric of her simple blue pajamas, her closed eyelids fluttered, her fingers and toes twitched. We waited patiently. Here her trembling hand rose slightly above the bed, but immediately dropped again, but her eyelids fluttered open.
In the next second, the woman blinked often — frequently, delicately — and opened her eyes again, slowly and cautiously. Her watery, hazy, startlingly blue eyes, a black ancestral trait, could not see us standing back, their gaze meeting the blue ceiling covered with animated images of clouds and birds in the Oriental style-I have all the ceilings in my house covered with paintings of all kinds. Bellatrix closed her eyes, inhaled, opened them again and cocked her head in our direction.
— Who are you? — The woman exhaled hoarsely and slowly closed her eyelids. — Where am I?
— My name is Sora Hoshino, and you are in my home, Ms. Black. — Appolin, Pierre, Fleur and Lizzie were silent, sitting in chairs and on the couch.
— What has happened to me? — The woman gasped softly.
— Many things. — I shrugged, grinning. No, I didn't lie, did I? Black frowned at my words and her clouded eyes cleared with a flash of anger. I smiled wider. — Don't worry, Ms. Black, your questions will be answered. — A short pause. — In due time.
— I demand answers now. — The hoarseness in the woman's voice was almost gone, and her general condition had improved dramatically. In fact, Bellatrix Black is quite healthy — it is not for nothing that we have invested so much effort and money in restoring her health. Her weakness is purely due to some mental instability after the procedure.
— For now, Miss Black, all you need is plenty of food and rest for a speedy recovery. But I am kind. — I nod graciously. — So I will ease your worries. You are among friends. The last friends in the world, Miss Black. The ones you knew are no longer alive or have turned into completely different people. All of Britain read your name in the obituary a few weeks ago, and as long as you remain dead to everyone, you remain safe. Do you care about anything else?
— Why does everybody think I'm dead? — The look in those blue eyes was fixed on me, trying to find answers, demanding them.
— Bellatrix, if I give you bits and pieces of information, you'll draw the wrong conclusions-it's inevitable, possibly ruining our relationship-so just be patient and wait a while. I promise I will tell you everything.
— Do you swear? — The woman narrowed her eyes slightly.
— Of course not. — Another grin into the angry blue eyes. — A reasonable man wouldn't throw around oaths unnecessarily. — I decided to explain myself. — We're going to be talking to you for a long time, miss, so you should know that my word is as good as your oaths. I'm not British and I don't have treason and lies in my blood. Momo. — After a few seconds, the door slides open and my Zashikiwarashi enters. -This girl's name is Momo, she'll help you down. There and continue to talk and get to know each other.
With that we left the room.
— Congratulations, gentlemen and ladies, we did it. — Pierre smiled broadly as he embraced his wife. — Appolin told me about this method, but no one has used it for many years, not even living practitioners are left... — After taking a sharp elbow to the ribs, the man decided to correct himself. -Excuse me, my lady, not until today. I think this calls for a celebration.
— I completely agree, Monsieur. — I nod respectfully and elbow the girls. — It is a great achievement on the level of a full-fledged "master". When Madame Delacour decides to officially receive her new title, I will be happy to witness it.
— Let's not be in a hurry, dear Sora. — sang the extremely satisfied woman, who literally blossomed in her husband's arms. — We will observe the patient for a few more weeks to confirm the positive result, but now I have not detected any destructive processes, which would have manifested themselves immediately.
Then, extremely satisfied and in a good mood, we joined the others around the table and talked about distracting topics. And yes, everyone in the house had taken an oath to keep the patient's identity secret as long as possible.
As for Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, they are on the other side of the house and cannot leave their apartments, a measure necessary for... well, I just don't want those crazy guys wandering around wherever they please.
According to our contract with them, we cooperate, I help them, but I can't control them completely. On the other hand, we have formed a secret alliance of clans to remove the mark, so neither this couple nor their descendants will be able to "screw" me.
And yes, they would have descendants, direct and bloody-two hired witches from Knockturn Alley were already pregnant (we'd dispensed with the fertility potion after the fertility ritual), but there was no way they'd have time to raise an heir properly, so we'd added three more pages of conditions to our contract.
The Lestrange family, like many others, keeps a secret watch on their squibs — it's necessary for periodic blood renewal, to maintain the purity of the bloodline (nonsense in many ways, but that's the way it is in Europe), and to fill the side branches.
Fifteen years ago, a wizard with the surname "Miles" was born into a family of Squibs, who named him Stephen and sorted him into Hufflepuff. Rudolphus found out about it from his goblin confidant, who keeps an eye on the family's affairs while the Lordship Lord wanders off to obscure places and does obscure things.
Okay, whatever, but the Lestrange family wouldn't have completely disappeared without a bunch of conditions being met, including the goblin breaking his oaths. If the brothers had died, as they did in the canon, and the Goblin had written a letter to Stephen Miles upon his graduation from Hogwarts, inviting him to a conversation where he unceremoniously demanded another fee for services already paid for, or something worse, the guy would have been at the head of a dying family.
Now he would be homeschooled for the next school year, a bunch of foreign teachers would be hired, and the head of the family and his brother would be teaching Stephen the secrets of the family.
This wouldn't have happened under any other circumstances, but now the family will have a slightly different structure: there will no longer be one main branch, but two equal branches, and the head of the family will be chosen by a ritual on the family altar.
That's it. In this generation, Stephen will be the next head of the family, and most of the problems will fall on his shoulders, but I will have to help in some way, according to our agreement, in which we are equal allies, but my family "leads", and in important negotiations I will have the right to speak for both families. So there you have it. It's a pain in the ass, of course, but the payoff is gigantic.
By the way, no one has forgotten about the tribal tapestries. The thing is that each "devourer" performed a cunning ritual of concealment on behalf of the family, so that the true state of affairs is reflected only on the main tapestry and its "clone". The first is always kept in the main house, very well protected, so that strangers will never see it. The "clone" is made exclusively for the goblin's lawyer and is kept in Gringotts.
While I'm on the subject of goblins, it's worth mentioning Rookwood, Dolokhov, and Malsibert, the younger Malsibert. I don't remember them from the movie at all, at most — their names were mentioned somewhere, so I won't be able to compare them, and I'll just talk about how things are here.
So Malsibert, the youngest, is the only one. There used to be two of them, and they were both in Azkaban, but the older one died of illness a few months ago, so I only have one bearer of that surname.
The Malsibers aren't aristocrats, by the way, but they're purebloods of the dog-eat-dog-know-what generation, they're quite respected (they used to be), and they own a business (they have a couple of not-insignificant vegetable farms), which is run by a manager. Rookwood is not an aristocrat either, nor is Dolohov, both are purebloods, but not rich. The former joined Voldemort's inner circle because he was previously a member of the Unspeakables and had access to many curious places in the Ministry.
Dolokhov, on the other hand, had neither, but made it through his extraordinary fighting skills and personal magical power. Who he was in his homeland is a mystery, but it is known that he fled there in a hurry, losing his pants on the way.
All three were slightly healed, just out of laziness, because I didn't know what to do with them yet. After receiving new information, I decided to have the Malsiber family restored with the help of Squibs (there is a nine-year-old girl with a manifest magical gift who is in the orphanage), Rookwood, who fits the term "evil black sorcerer" because of his extensive secret knowledge and practices, will be suitable for the ritual, but I will decide what to do with Dolokhov only after the negotiator from Magical Russia arrives at the embassy in London.
Well, there's no chance, is there? What if they offer him a ransom or something else strange? If not, he'll go to the ritual as well. I'd have included the Lestranges, too, but they'd have to pay something, which they did.
Right now, I was having a nice time with those closest to me. The ones I could trust.