The morning of the second full day of vacation began, as always, with exercise. Yesterday's momentary weakness, the desire to do nothing and lie down despite the habits hammered into the body, disappeared without a trace. Jogging through the still sleeping streets in the light of the rising sun, working with my own weight on an empty sports field in a nearby park. It's funny how much you get used to Hogwarts in two semesters - now an ordinary town seems strange. Strange people, strange houses, strange cars. And everything around is somewhat monotonous and gloomy, though the rays of the morning sun add color.

After the traditional morning shower and breakfast with the Knights, I got dressed in a new Graves-style suit, except I wore shoes instead of boots. To avoid the morning bus rush, I asked John for a ride to Grimmauld Place. I gave a ring to Kreacher for safekeeping, and then, with John again, I drove to the Leaky Cauldron. Another person would have asked the reasonable question, "Why don't you use Kreacher?" The answer is obvious - who knows how many people would recognize him as the Blacks' house-elf? Unknown. If knowledgeable people can only draw obvious parallels between me and Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, then seeing me with the house-elf of the Most Ancient and Noble House will definitively recognize the full picture. What to expect then? Who knows! Of course, my secret would be out soon. It's enough for Sirius to go to the Grimmauld house and get a kick out of it. After the fourth year, the Phoenixes will begin to assemble, and the Order has only this house as an asset that is truly protected. At least, I think so. In general, everyone there will know that young Maximilian Knight is not just a Knight not only in appearance but now in fact as well. ​​

It was with these thoughts that I walked along Diagon Alley in a crowd of variegated wizards again scurrying back and forth, busy with their own affairs. When I reached the outskirts of Avalon, I wandered into a dark alleyway, casting every conceivable spell of secrecy on myself. Now, unseen, inaudible, and emitting no scent, I wandered around the neighborhood, scattering the outlines of the Grimoire's magical traps here and there. They would come in handy if I had to retreat. The traps were activated mentally, by my command, so I knew there would be no accidental triggers, and my perfect memory would keep me from forgetting where they were at a moment's notice. I tried to distribute them around by Rowena's sketches of escape routes. I never cease to be amazed at this unique thing in my head. It seems that I have planned, calculated, designed, and so on, but it took a minimum of mental effort, creating a feeling of foreignness of this knowledge as if someone just downloaded a ready-made result.

I was busy setting traps until almost the time of the meeting and returned to the entrance of the Avalon ten minutes before the meeting, unmasked. I don't know what Lady Greengrass looks like, so I should go inside, talk to the servants, and go to the already reserved table.

Stepping through the arch of the gate, I moved confidently along the stone walkway toward the main entrance to Avalon. I felt slight vibrations of magic but didn't have time to interpret them in any way, unlike Rowena.

"Looks like a temporal mark with an undetermined affiliation factor. Friend or foe, to be determined later."

Okay, I understood.

The usher, a young guy in his mid-twenties, opened the door in front of me. At the entrance, I was almost immediately confronted by the hostess stand, where two girls in strict dresses just below the knees and in French-style cape robes - slightly shortened on all fronts - were minding their own business.

"Good afternoon. Pleased to welcome you at Avalon," one of the hostesses spoke to me with a smile. "My name is Hannah. Do you already have a reservation, or would you like to choose?"

"Good day, Miss. I have a table reserved for two for lunch. Number two hundred and three."

"Would you be so kind as to say your name?"

"Maximilian Knight."

The girl blinked thoughtfully for the briefest of moments without losing her very natural and welcoming smile.

"Please follow me," Hannah smiled invitingly, waving her hand and making sure I followed her. She moved toward the massive wooden staircase to the second floor.

It is not customary to look around and certainly not look at other visitors, but nobody canceled the lateral vision. It's a pleasant place, and the design is also pleasant, though mixed up with everything. There are also notes of the Renaissance, heavy, expensive, with a predominance of shades of beige, dark wood trim, and monograms. Well, I'm not an architect. I do not know the names of all these elements. There were elements of the typical Middle Ages too, but they were expressed in some small decorative elements. In the far corners of the hall, the atmosphere and tones were a little gloomy and the decorations more angular. It looked as if you were about to see a typical smokin' noir gangster from twenties Chicago in the midst of these somber tones.

The second floor was about the same, except there were more secluded tables along the walls, and most of the room was a kind of mansard with separate tables on balconies. It was this table, on the balcony, that Hannah led me to. It was round, with a white tablecloth, already set with cutlery and crockery, and a crystal carafe of water in the middle.

"Will you order something?"

"I'd prefer to wait."

There was no need to designate the status of "who exactly to wait for," and so the girl nodded. Another girl appeared beside her but in a slightly different uniform, though the differences were almost subtle.

"This is Catherine. She will be your waitress today," Hanna introduced her colleague, and she bowed slightly in a polite bow. Then both of them left, leaving me alone.