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After the walk, I thought about the fact that most of the wizards are pure-bloods in one way or another. If I remember the canon correctly, pure-blood philistines, after Voldemort came to power, had nothing to worry about. In the books, they all worked as before, went about their business, and only especially rich, influential, or holding important positions felt the pressure of the Dark Lord so that they made the "right decision." Muggle-borns, on the other hand, suffered in one way or another. Take, for example, the inventory of the Muggle-born population, during which quite a lot of adult wizards were killed. Although the circumstances of their death remain unknown, but nevertheless. In any case, "Voldemortism" is not a regime of power that is pleasant to me, and in this battle of local bison, I am somewhat more sympathetic to the Headmaster. Of course, he may not be really kind or anything, but a man with this level of influence and some power simply has no right to think narrowly in terms of "kindness" to individuals - we are bound to be mere numbers on paper to him. Actually, for Voldemort, we are numbers too, but his methods and his regime are too cruel, and the ultimate goals are unacceptable.

In general, one could think forever about this policy, the goals of the two faction leaders, which is right and wrong ... But no matter how much you think, it all comes down to one thing - we do not need the Dark Lord.

With these thoughts in mind, I returned to Grimmauld Place again, where Kreacher complained about the uninvited but distinguished guests, whom he, of course, at my own order, did not let into the house. And in general, he did not show any activity, leaving the house protected and inaccessible to everyone except the rare postal owls and me.

"Who came?" I asked, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Mrs. Bellatrix ..." said the old house-elf cheerfully just as I took a sip of tea. Coughing, I comically tapped myself on the chest, and when I came to my senses, I decided to clarify:

"What did she want?"

"How would old Kreacher know?" the house-elf shrugged, at the same time shifting small containers in one of the lower cabinets by the sink. "She stood under the spell opposite, like the navel of the earth, she called me. But the Head ordered not to let anyone in ... "

"Was she alone?"

"Old Kreacher doesn't know..."

That is curious information. I am extremely interested in the reasons for her visit, but of course, I will not ask myself. Probably.

On the evening of that day, August 2, a letter came from Lady Delphine. In short, she prepared some kind of tests for the long-suffering me and was in a hurry to carry them out, making an appointment at the Fortescue cafe at ten in the morning on August 6. Of course, in a reply letter, I confirmed the receipt of the message and agreed to a meeting, after which I sent it with her own owl. But as soon as I returned to the library, where, on a large free area of the floor, I laid out a bunch of different maps with a rhombus from a potion tracking Lupin, I could not help but notice the smooth movement of it in the direction of one well-known place, and this is not the "Leaky Cauldron." Lupine's rhombus moved towards Little Whinging. I've never been there, but I've driven through the adjoining suburb. Thirst for adventure howled like crazy and was already ready to uncover "The drill that will pierce the heavens!".

Quickly gathering myself and dressing in loose black clothes, I threw over one of the black robes with a hood and pulled the second wand out of the cane, simultaneously ridding it of the pommel in the form of a Grimm — I will use this wand. Having conjured on myself every conceivable and inconceivable concealment charm, I quickly left the house and right from the doorway, but already beyond the border of protection, apparated to a gas station in the suburb next to Little Whinging, where John and I stopped a couple of times on the way. I looked around again, and again apparated to the roof, and then to the hill. And so I moved towards the neighboring town, jumping by apparation to the areas I was observing. This is one of the few ways to move in unknown terrain, provided that you have good vision and spatial thinking because you need to clearly visualize yourself in the right place.

When I reached Magnolia Crescent near Privet Drive, according to the maps, it was evening, and it was difficult to move without the Cat's Eye charms because I had to consider the desired place in detail. However, there was no point in moving any further. Once again I cast every conceivable spell of concealment on myself, got to a small hill behind the field, where I had a good view of the Privet Drive, and conjured a powerful Echo, in order to receive responses from objects saturated with magic over a large area as if from a radar. Directions to points and a vague sense of distance to them immediately appeared in my head. Eight wizards move in a group, and about ten are scattered over an area of a couple of square kilometers, which is not much.

Do you want to calculate the exact position by the intersection of vectors from three points? Do you have enough power?

Got it, just a second...