Snape grinned, looking at me expectantly.

"Is my mother doing well?" ​​

"And if not, then what?" Snape looked at me seriously. "You will take one of England's most protected and unapproachable Manors by storm?"

"If necessary."

"Damn Black ..." muttered Moody fussily, taking a sip from his flask. Everyone knows that he drinks only from his own flask. Therefore, last year, there were no questions about the fake Moody drinking too much from the flask.

"If you're so interested… Then everything is as good as it can be when a Dark Lord lives in your house."

"In that case, see you not soon, ladies and gentlemen."

Turning around, I quickly left the kitchen. There were four redheads and one black-haired with a scar peering down the stairs, and at the very wall, almost imperceptibly, hung an ear on a flesh-colored thread. Of course, this thread stretched to the redheads on the second floor - they were eavesdropping. But I don't care.

After leaving the house, now Sirius's, I checked for the presence of a Muggle-repelling charm on myself, and Apparated to the very threshold of the house on Grimmauld, and went inside. I wanted to sit in the library for a while and think, so that's where I went.

Why did I say what I said? Well, in fact, sooner or later, this "Open secret" of mine would have surfaced - under the pressure of life circumstances and other difficulties, Lupine himself would have told about his puncture as a person. I put everything in a more or less favorable light for me, or rather, unfavorable for Lupin. As a result, this werewolf did not show any positive qualities, and my already old and dust-covered desire to kill the bastard who almost killed me was aroused again. I promised myself - I'll do it. But I'll do it without magic, and days of observing Lupin's movements had revealed several of his habits that I would take advantage of...

***

London at night could impress with its busy central streets, the lights of signs and parties, cars, the soft light of restaurants and tourist centers. But this picture changed radically as we moved away from the center — calm and quiet night parks of sleeping residential areas, but life was boiling again on the outskirts, but this time another, invisible to most — the night ball in the local ghettos was ruled by gangs. London is a city of contrasts.

Through one of the parks, empty at this time of the night, walked quite an ordinary man in a dark green suit that was a little too big and in a dark coat. A couple of small scars adorned his face. Remus Lupin liked to walk around the city like this - there was already too much forest and wilderness in his life.

Remus was not surprised by the figure of a Muggle walking toward him, wearing a disheveled business suit and carrying a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The Muggle staggered and moved not very confidently, but Remus was not worried - under special charms, an ordinary person could not see him. It was this fact that allowed Lupine to easily walk past a very drunk Muggle along a narrow stone path in the park. When he passed by, he could not restrain himself and turned his nose at the bright smell of fumes and alcohol, and after taking another step, he suddenly heard an unusual and new sound — a metallic click behind his back. Turning sharply, Remus managed to see only a Muggle looking at him, holding something in his hands. Flash, rumble, darkness…

The Muggle, who had suddenly decided to shoot into the void, whether out of anger or resentment at the injustice of the world, turned around and staggered away. He had a hard day - he was fired from his job after his criminal record was discovered. They might even go to the police, and there would be bobbies waiting for him at home. Would he get away with it? Or not?

These were the thoughts that were spinning in the Muggle's head when he, without remembering how, got to the subway. Images of his criminal life kept popping up in his head, and each episode was as if signed: "A couple of years for this. A couple of years for that."

"Huh?" the man suddenly came to his senses and realized that he had just stepped off the platform directly under the train. The brief moment of incomprehension and realization ended as quickly as the life of a Muggle under the wheels of an emergency braking train.

The few people who were on the platform at that moment were shocked, there was a fuss, but no one noticed, and could not notice, a young and rather tall guy with very light, almost ash-colored hair.

"Everyone will get what they deserve," the blond guy said quietly, rather to himself, and turned around and walked away from the subway. "One day, someone will come for me too..."