Готовый перевод Тейлор Поттер и философский виал / Taylor Potter and the Philosophical Vial: Глава 1. Девочка, которая выжила

Chapter 1. The Girl Who Lived
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2011 year

The seaside town of Little Bay, peaceful, quiet, and serene, was gradually plunging into darkness. A short, dark-skinned woman, lurking in the attic of one of the houses, allowed herself to stir slightly and look away from the "object of observation." The lights in the windows of number four Ferry Lane went out, signaling the Dursleys' retirement.

With a quiet rustling sound, another woman appeared out of nowhere in the attic, wearing a cloak and hat.

"Fortune?" the dark woman asked, turning around. "Where's... Taylor?"

"Rachel's taking her," the new arrival replied.

"Taking?"

"Yes, on one of her dogs. Hannah, are you unhappy about something?"

"A one-year-old girl, riding on a huge dog? Then how could you deliver her here with a snap of your fingers? And you, Headmaster Dumbledore, still ask what I'm displeased with?" Hannah McGonagall's voice dripped with sarcasm, and the binoculars in her hand turned into a huge revolver.

“So the Path commands,” Fortuna answered dispassionately, taking a lighter out of her coat pocket.

There was a click, and the lights throughout the street went out. The revolver transformed into a night vision device, and Hannah pressed herself to it, watching the enormous dog approaching, with a tall, muscular woman perched on its back, clutching a bundle.

"How did a one-year-old child defeat the Dark Cape?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't know, and no one knows," Dumbledore replied, pocketing the lighter. "The war is over, let the capes rejoice, there's no point in worrying them with words about the Path not being completed yet. Come on, Rachel is close."

Hannah McGonagall obeyed the order as usual, trying not to dwell on what had just happened. The war that the capes, people with superpowers, had waged for eleven years had suddenly ended. The Dark Cape had fallen, facing the Potter family, and Hannah couldn't understand why. Annette Potter, a follower of Lustrum, a Thinker-4, and Danny Potter, a Contact-5, weren't particularly remarkable among capes. The Dark Cape had defeated stronger, more skilled, and more experienced opponents.

Surely we can't take seriously the idea that a one-year-old girl without superpowers could defeat such an enemy?
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2021 year

Taylor was awakened by someone disturbing one of the webs stretched along every door in the house. A precaution against abrupt awakenings, surprises, and traps. Madison Dursley quietly left her room, crept to the door of the cupboard under the stairs where Taylor was now, and began setting up a trap: two spheres filled with some brightly colored liquids. Two small flies, obeying the command, flew toward the spheres, and Taylor's expression darkened.

Soda and orange juice!

If the trap had worked, Taylor would have been forced to hand-wash her clothes. While wearing gray, baggy clothes a couple of sizes too big was no fun, at least they were safe to wear outside. Madison's plan was simple and straightforward: no clothes, so Taylor would remain in the closet all day. When the Dursleys' friends arrived that afternoon, they would be able to torment their seemingly defenseless victim to their heart's content.

And they will definitely come - it's the end of July, holidays, young and diligent girls have nothing to do.

Taylor sighed and sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her head up. Yes, she was doing it perfectly, for by the age of eleven, she had grown into a tall, bony, angular, awkward girl, adept at curling up and withdrawing into herself during yet another round of bullying at the hands of the Dursleys. The pinnacle of this had been being locked in this very cupboard, and then, in the darkness, the cramped space, the despair, Taylor suddenly felt the world around her alive. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of tiny insects—flying, crawling, burrowing, scurrying—had responded to Taylor, and her world had never been the same.

Madison finished placing the spheres and knocked on the closet door.

"Happy birthday, Taylor! I brought you gifts!" Madison sang, her voice full of honey, syrup, and falseness.

Taylor sensed through the flies that Madison had retreated to the stairs and was lying low, waiting for the trap to spring. The voice was one of three reasons why the youngest Dursley had gotten away with bullying Taylor at school and on the street. The second was that her mother, Sophia Dursley, generously donated to the school, using her crossbow bolt manufacturing company as a subsidy. The third reason had just spoken—a voice as beautiful as her body.

"Taylor! Get your skinny ass over here!" Mom Emma yelled.

"Yes, Mom Emma," Taylor sighed. She's Mom's sister, and Taylor once considered her a friend, confiding in her secrets and sharing her innermost thoughts.

"Or are you planning on locking yourself in there and crying for a whole week?" came another shout.

Taylor sniffled, feeling a surge of rage. Yes, she'd cried, and for a long time, when the Dursleys told her her parents had died in a car accident, and that it was her, Taylor's, fault. But why remind her of that again?

"Come on out!" the voice was getting closer.

Taylor felt a moment of cold calm mixed with hot rage, and one of the flies took off on a suicidal flight. Emma's mother pressed her hand to her eye, rubbing it, trying to get rid of the fly, and didn't notice the balloons tied above the closet door. Before Madison could scream, Emma Dursley yanked the door open.

"You!" and choked, stunned by the fact that she had just been doused with three liters of soda and juice.

All the beauty, the curls, and the luxurious clothes were gone, leaving only a wet, enraged fury. Naturally, all the rage and anger fell not on her adored daughter Madison, but on the "filthy brat"—that is, Taylor. Mother Sophia came home from work for lunch and, of course, didn't stand idly by, applying her muscular black hand to the punishment. After which, Taylor was sent off to work as usual under Madison's supervision, while her mothers locked themselves in the bedroom.

The stationary postal tablet at the entrance jingled.

"The mail has arrived, come and look," Madison said.

"Go yourself," Taylor snapped.

She had enough problems as it was; managing five cleaning robots without hitting or breaking anything was no easy task. Of course, Taylor was usually forbidden from using the Dursleys' various appliances, but with only Madison around now, the young Potter decided to ignore the ban. She knew and sensed what her mothers were doing upstairs, and she knew that they usually didn't get angry for long afterward. As for Madison, she wasn't in the mood for a fight, so the robot hemispheres frantically rolled around the first floor.

“You’re supposed to do all the work,” Madison said, pointing with her hand, but making no attempt to get up from her chair.

"But it doesn't say in what order!" Taylor waved it off.

"I'll tell my parents!"

"Do it!"

Only then did Taylor realize Madison didn't know what her parents were up to, but it was too late. Watching her "little sister" run up the stairs, Taylor sighed. Of course, she'd held onto the hope that Madison would be punished, but there was no point in fooling herself. The "beloved daughter," the "pretty princess," had gotten away with worse. So Taylor decided to check the mail, ordering the cleaning robots to hide so as not to leave a trace.

Miss Taylor Potter

Closet under the stairs

Building 4, Ferry Street

Little Bay

East Coast

Taylor stood there, gaping, staring at the tablet. She didn't know how anyone could design an email like that, but she liked it. The background featured a huge, stylized "C" surrounded by four beautiful figures. Three men and a woman, clad in beautiful armor, with weapons and cloaks fluttering behind them, the image was simply irresistible.

But it had to be done, because Taylor, lost in her reverie, let her guard down and was grabbed by the ear by Mother Sophia. But the execution didn't last more than a few seconds, as Mama Emma gasped.

"S-s-s-ophia!" she pointed at the screen.

Taylor was tossed aside, and now it was her other mother's turn to turn pale. More accurately, her black skin turned gray, and curses poured from her mouth.

"How did they know?" Emma's mother said, chattering her teeth. "Are they watching us?"

"It's possible!" Mother Sophia barked.

Her hand shot forward, the crossbow bolt clenched in her fist, piercing the tablet hanging on the wall.

"Wipe the floor and know your place!" she shouted at Taylor and ran off down into the basement.

Over the next few hours, the Dursleys' household was placed under siege. A not entirely legal electromagnetic circuit was activated on the fence and around the house, complex electronics were shut down, and every hidden spot was double-checked for eavesdropping and surveillance devices. All windows and doors were locked, cleaning robots were put on alert, and a dazed and bewildered Taylor Potter was moved to a small corner bedroom on the second floor.

But these measures did not help.

All the computers and smartphones turned on by themselves, choking on melodies and incoming mail alerts. When a furious Sophia destroyed them, an email appeared on the refrigerator's built-in screen and, racing across the wall, was emitted by a holographic laser pointer held in the hand of the Barbie doll Madison had given her for her birthday. The dishwasher beeped to read the email, and in the washing machine, it swirled clockwise across the thick glass.

And everywhere the same address was visible: “Miss Potter, smallest bedroom on the second floor.”

"They're watching!" Sophia growled, waving her arms. "Those vaunted British jammers! Foggy crap, like the rest of their England! But never mind, I'll show them!"

"Darling," Emma said carefully, "is it really worth getting so upset about? They send letters, but Taylor can't see them anyway. Come here, sweetie, and we'll finish..."

"Yes, we'll finish it!" Sophia took out a shotgun. "Get ready! Let's go!"

Everyone in Little Bay knew the Isle of Care, and everyone knew it was best not to go there. Electronics malfunctioned there, and bad thoughts crept into one's mind, so the islet—a hundred meters long and wide, with rocks and trees—was deserted. In the center, a dilapidated hut—all that remained of a brave explorer who believed himself invulnerable and vanished without a trace on the islet.

Naturally, no one conducted an investigation into the disappearance.

"Let them get to us here!" Sophia muttered under her breath, leaning on the oars. "Let them! You'll taste my shot and my fist! There are no electronics in the rocks; try sending letters there!"

Madison sulked in the bottom of the boat, not wanting to go to a barren island at nightfall. Her mother, Emma, ​​consoled her as best she could, while Taylor pondered who could have sent her such a wonderful letter. Spending the night on an island, in unknown conditions, didn't bother her much—the main thing was it wasn't in a closet. She sensed insects on the island and knew it was getting close. Taylor didn't know the exact distance in meters, but she knew she could command insects no more than ten houses away.

The hut's roof was gaping, its windows and doors were missing, and the floor was dirt. Grumpy, Sophia, Emma, ​​and Madison were settling in for the night after a quick dinner of self-heating noodles. Taylor had been forced into the corner most exposed to the rain and wind, lying on her back, gazing up at the sky.

Stars, clouds, nothing special, but Taylor still felt happy and pleasant.

"Let them have a taste of my EMP grenades," Sophia muttered, setting traps. "Homing bolts for gadgets, let's see how you like that, my dears. You thought you could take me that easily? You thought I was some kind of puny prey? No way! You'll find out who's the predator and who's the prey here, because you're worthless without your gadgets!"

She was so engrossed that she didn't hear or see a huge dog, larger than the hut the Dursleys were planning to spend the night in, emerge from the water. The dog shook itself, splashing everything around it.

"Bitch!!" Sophia Dursley squealed, jumping away from the source of the sudden shower.

"Yes, it's me," said the woman sitting on the dog's back.

Then she jumped down, and Sophia snatched up the shotgun. A shot rang out, then another, and Sophia's hand darted for the ammo, quickly reloading, finishing off the dog, then the woman. A huge mouth, hot breath, pain where fangs had pierced his hand, and the shotgun dropped.

"Don't you dare shoot my dogs!" Rachel growled, kicking Sophia in the side with her hobnailed boot.

Naturally, everyone else came running to the noise: Emma, ​​Madison, and Taylor.

"Taylor!" Rachel cried joyfully. "Fang! Get it!"

She pointed at Emma and Madison, and the dog pinned them down with its paws into the sand and rocks, preventing them from moving.

"What? But why?" Taylor cried out in fear. "Who are you?"

"One has already attacked, I don't want a repeat," the woman growled. "I am Rachel Hagrid, Keeper of the Beasts and Lands of Wormwarts!"

"What?" Taylor asked, her face blank. "What's Wormwarts?"

"So you didn't tell her?" Rachel growled at the Dursleys, then added contemptuously. "Humans!"

She snorted and pulled a mini-screen from the pocket of her fur-trimmed vest. Her powerful, muscular arms glinted in the moonlight, and Sophia Dursley could be heard cursing and threatening.

"Read it!" Rachel said, handing over the letter.

The screen lit up, and Taylor saw a familiar letter, only this time she could read the text.

WORMWARTS SCHOOL OF CAPING AND PARAHUMANISM

Headmaster: Fortuna Dumbledore

(Order of the Iron Mask, First Class, Grand Cape, Chief Thinker, Supreme Independent Member of the International Confederation of Capes)

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Wormwarts School of Caping and Parahumanism. Please review the enclosed list of all required books and supplies.

Classes begin on September 1st. We expect your email no later than August 1st.

Sincerely,

Hannah McGonagall,

Deputy Director

"What does all this mean?" Taylor asked. "Is there a mistake?"

"No," Rachel snapped. "You're a cape, and that means your place is in Wormwarts!"

“But I… I’m not ready,” Taylor said, confused. “I have nothing!”

"You have the most important thing - superpowers, and we'll buy the rest tomorrow at Toybox Alley," Rachel assured her.

After which she bared her teeth in a welcoming smile.

"Happy birthday, Taylor!"

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP