3

I wore the amulets right in the bank. At a small cafe near Gringotts, I had a cup of hot chocolate and went shopping. At the bookstore, I took a freshman kit, a charms review book, a household charms book, and a catalog. From Madame Malkin bought a dark robe that looked like an ordinary raincoat, and at that I decided to finish shopping. I need to find a base and get some rest. I feel like a robot in a hurry to assimilate information. It's perfect to get to Grimmo 12. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't work out. Where is Grimmo Square? I don't know. I had to take off the muggle repellent amulet and get a cab.

The engine buzzes slightly, the teddy seat warms up my body. My evil thoughts gradually erupted into an unpleasant ball of emotion. Suddenly, the driver seems to be bored with the noble song of the engine. The scoundrel has embraced a typical melody of small but very proud peoples who do not sit in their mountainous homeland. The car's not black Austin; so I'm in the frenzy of hatred after the bank and I'm hooked up with a private driver. On the one hand, that's good, the official exchange will report to a policeman about an overly independent boy. On the other hand, I'm in the ass of the world. The street I have the pleasure of riding in a taxi is nothing like Grimmo Square. It's certainly been painted differently in a book, a movie, but not like this. There's something like an industrial area outside the window, garages. The driver stretched out his face like a nice smile and gave away a masterpiece of diplomatic literature:

"Baby, you want a candy?"

Fucking slash! Luckily, the thought became surprisingly clear and drew "To Do."

"Of course, Uncle, I love candy. I also like bananas like that, and two oranges would be nice for a banana," I left-handedly depicted a need to distract the eye in the mirror. My right hand lifted Dudley's jacket and I pulled out Aunt Petunia's kitchen knife, "You're going to love it, too, Uncle!" covered with scotch tape over paper knives.

With these words, I rushed forward, wrapped my hand around the driver's neck with a knife and ripped my hand at myself. I was pulled to the right door as the driver spun the steering wheel across the road and was pressed back into the front seat. The car stopped, stumbling into the brick wall of some garage. The driver was wheezing, pacing his hands at the front panel and twitching, not thinking to unbuckle the belt. I looked around - there was no one outside. At last, he was quiet: Now he was clearly in heaven, surrounded by lustful sinners with sodomites, biting the first juicy fruit of sin and filth.

I took a handkerchief with my left hand and leaned between the front seats. The trophies were a small pack of small banknotes and a small revolver. It's time for me to leave quickly. I put on a muggle repellent amulet, pressed the trunk opening button, and got out of the car.

The main thing is to set the wheels on fire. With these thoughts, I splashed on the front and rear wheels from a canister and connected them with a "path" that I took away from the car. Hasta la vista, baby! I went in the opposite direction: about five minutes ago we drove through a bus stop.

I walked to the bus stop for about an hour, and it gave me time to think about it. That I had changed almost to crazy freak is a medical fact, I think. The black and white world. I've never had pink snot-like Hermione before. And Dumbledore isn't worth 146% wild hatred. The commander's doing his job. He wins the battle. He doesn't care about the death of one soldier. I've never thrown a knife at abnormal sex maniacs. To live a short but bright life is an act of stupid, drunken courage. In the beginning, I may not have taken my new life seriously. Now I want to get to the point normally and thoughtfully. But where did these explosions of madness and successful murder come from? I don't understand anything.

After half an hour of waiting for the bus and half an hour of driving, I went out on a quite decent street, where there were two black cabs - one of them and plunged into one of them, scientific experience.

*

London, Grimmo Square, 11, between the hour and two July 24, 1991.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmo Square, London," Fidelius is not yet overlaid and I can't see the four-story dark red brick house. A wooden door that matches the family name. It's a silver door hammer. Half a minute later, the door opened and a housekeeper appeared to me, who I wanted to rest purely out of pity. With his first words about bloodsuckers, blood traitors, and so on, my wish was formed into a strong blow with his palm in the left ear of the housekeeper, from which the ugly man sat down by the wall.

"Tell Lady Walburga Black that Mr. Harry James Potter, great-grandson of Dorea Black, wishes to speak to her about the Black family affairs. Do it!"

The house has quietly disappeared to appear in a minute.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter, the Mistress is waiting for you."

There she is the healing power of a good blow to the face. I was immediately reclassified from dirty to a gentleman. It's a lovely grey corridor and why do they say it's gloomy everywhere? He's classy! Here is the portrait of Mrs. Walburga, I suppose.

"Nice to meet you, Lady. My name is Harry James Potter. I'd like to discuss some of the cases of the Ancient and Noble Black family that can't wait."

"And what can such a young man discuss?"

"The oldest and noblest Black family on the verge of death. The foolish Sirius in Azkaban. He's got a lot of enemies. He'll die either in prison or right after he leaves her. Regulus died in the service of half-blooded bastard Riddle, who..."

"How dare you speak of the Dark Lord like that, you filthy dirty bastard?"

"I am like the son of two wizards, pureblood. And Riddle's father was a despicable Muggle. Besides, Riddle branded the two children of the Ancient and Noble House Black as slaves. And you dare call that scum a lord?"

Walburga was all outraged, obviously torn up to say something, but she didn't have time to make up her mind.

"Besides, you're the one who didn't follow Sirius! So he's fallen under the harmful influence of the hero of Light Dumbledore. And all heroism is the deception of his lover Grindelwald. Because of your oversight of Sirius in Azkaban."

"Why are you telling me all this dirt?"

"We have common enemies. Dumbledore and Riddle pushed the children away from our families and killed our relatives. We share the same goals, and if we let it go, ten years from now there's no Black family or Potter family. We share a vendetta. I know how to get Sirius back, I know how to put his brains in the right place. I know how to rip him off the crap Dumbledore's talking about. Make up your mind, you with me?"

"Why does a boy suddenly sound like an adult? Even if you're not lying, you don't have the strength for revenge! Look at you, you're useless."

"Dumbledore set my parents up under Riddle's wand. The old bastard bypassed my parents' will, kidnapped me and dumped me in the care of the Muggle bastards. What's more, now that bearded bastard is trying to make me become his puppet. He sees me as an obedient fanatic and wants to marry me to a blood traitor so that the Ancient Potter family can be interrupted. If I marry a blood traitor, the Potter legacy will be lost to me. The ring of the line will not accept me. I am more mature than you can imagine. My hatred is enough to ignite the flame in which the Dumbledore's, the Riddles and every handful of bastards will burn. But since I'm useless, you stay here. You'll see Sirius drag Dumbledore and his handy traitors of Weasley's blood into the house. Do you remember them? Then they'll kill Sirius, and you'll stay in their company forever. And I'll take care of the Potters since Blacks won't accept my help. Kreacher! Walk me to the exit."

I heard a good thought once. "Don't deal with fools, think about how much time you'll save if you don't deal with them." It's said about Walburga. She sits up to her ears in shit, and when they offer her soap, she turns her nose up. The smell isn't refined enough. If I continue to deal with the Black family, the first thing I'll do is destroy a Walburga portrait.

It was about general, now about private. I've had thirteen hours, the most intense in my new life, on my feet. I urgently need a rest. It's day, summer, I can sleep outside, but it'll wear me out. I went to the phone box.

"Reference? I need the address of Dr. Granger, a dentist living in Crowley."