I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Mom, why do I have to go to this thing?" Mihnea asked, looking upset. "There's no point to it."

Syn put down the navy blue sandals she'd just pulled out of her closet and looked over at him. "Because Her Majesty invited you to attend and you never refuse an invitation from the Queen unless you have a damn good reason for it."

He made a face. "But it's boring. The only thing people do at these balls is stand around and talk for hours. And the knights all hate me."

She sincerely wished that weren't true, but the sad fact of the matter was that many of the younger members of the Round Table Conference didn't like her son. To them, Mihnea was a dangerous creature that Integra never should have allowed within the walls of her house. They were the sons or grandsons of the original knights and were still intimidated enough by Integra that they wouldn't say anything while he was around to hear. But you could always see the obvious dislike written all over their faces.

"Her Majesty likes you and that's all that matters." she told him. "I don't like it either, Mihnea, but we have to go. This is one of those situations where the only thing you can do is suck it up and deal with it."

It was plain from the look on his face that he didn't like it one bit. "You can't just tell them I'm sick or something?"

"Since when do you ever get sick?" she asked, then pointed toward the door. "Go get dressed."

Mihnea let out a huff of air, then turned on his heel to go back to his room. This sort of thing happened every time they had to attend a royal function. He didn't want to go and she'd have to give him a talking to before he'd go get ready for it. Syn couldn't blame him. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't want to go to a party full of of pretentious bastards either. Unfortunately, this was one of those political things they couldn't get around. Hellsing was expected to make an appearance and that meant everyone in the family had to come along.

Her Majesty's summer ball was held at the palace in one of the grand ballrooms. It was one of those social functions where all the members of high society congregated to intermingle with each other. Most of this 'intermingling' was, in fact, just a massive display to hide the political power struggles going on beneath the surface. Since the great war, Hellsing had much more power and influence than it had ever had before. Naturally, that meant that others were even more keen on finding some way of gaining any means of control over them. All attempts had failed thus far and most likely, they always would. But none of them would live forever, so the children had to be acclimated to the ways of politics to ensure they'd be able to handle things when the time came for them to step to the forefront.

The ballroom was filled when they arrived. The Queen hadn't made an appearance yet, but she would eventually come in. The woman was in her nineties and the palace doctors said she was as healthy as a horse and could possibly live for another twenty years. Syn believed it. Her Majesty was a kind woman, but had a core of pure steel. The vampires were winding their way through the crowd, providing some extra security for them. Not that anyone would dare to try anything at the palace, but it was best to be safe. Constance and Mihnea were keeping to themselves by the punchbowl. There were fewer adults over there, and it gave them a good view of what was going on in the rest of the room. Even when they didn't want to be involved in something, they always watched and paid attention to their surroundings. It was a good habit to have. She noticed Integra stand a bit straighter as someone approached them. It was Sir Robert Walsh, Commanding General of the Army, and President of the Round Table Conference. Syn liked him. He'd been through the war with them and understood things on a deeper level than most.

"Ah, Sir Hellsing." he greeted, taking her hand. "You've finally arrived." He reached over to shake Edmund's hand as well. "And Sir Stryker. Your presence was missed at our last conference meeting."

Ed inclined his head. "I apologize for that. I was in Switzerland studying new ammunition developments."

"Ah... always working on that, are you?" Walsh said with a grin. He turned to Syn. "Miss Newsom, it's a pleasure as always."

She took his hand and smiled. "It's nice to see you as well, sir."

He looked her over. "Speaking of weapons development, I don't suppose I could convince you to do some side work for the army?"

The redhead had to suppress her amusement. He'd been picking away at her for years to get her to do so weapons development for the regular human troops in the British military. While it was a great compliment to be asked, she didn't really have the time or the desire for it.

"I'm afraid my work at Hellsing keeps me too busy." she told him. "When I'm not making guns, I have to keep all the boys in line. You know how it is."

Walsh nodded. "Aye, miss, that I do. It's a damn shame though." he looked over at Integra. "You work this girl too hard, Sir Hellsing. You might at least share her with the rest of us."

The lady knight shook her head. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Sir Walsh." she said. "I know all too well how the military likes to steal people away. I can't risk losing my master gunsmith."

The older man sniffed. "As if she'd consider leaving. She's too wrapped up with those damn vampires of yours."

It was said teasingly and they all took it that way. Integra cleared her throat and began speaking with him about a particular issue Hellsing was having trouble with. Human authorities weren't responding to distress calls made by bleeders or donors and it was becoming extremely problematic.

With everyone knowing about the existence of vampires after the war, new systems for dealing with them had developed on their own. There were always a few people out there who had an attraction to the 'dark side', and two groups of humans had come out to provide 'services' for the newly revealed monsters. Bleeders were essentially 'blood prostitutes'. Humans who walked the streets and sold their blood to vampires for money or other arranged gifts. Sex wasn't usually a part of the agreement, but sometimes it happened. Syn had no idea who had first started calling them that, but the descriptive term stuck. Donors were much more selective about who they worked with. Those were humans who entered into a kind of business arrangement with a particular vampire, exchanging exclusive rights to their blood supply in return for protection. The vampires took advantage of these people because it was a way to get a fresh meal without winding up on Hellsing's hit list for killing someone. The only problem was that bleeders and donors weren't seen in a very good light by the rest of the populace. Since they consorted openly with monsters, people came to the conclusion that they had some kind of death wish. When they actually needed help, police units wouldn't respond to their calls. They thought it was just a waste of their time and resources. Donors had an easier time of things because the vampires who fed from them knew that their death meant the loss of a living blood supply. They generally protected them from the worst sorts of things. It was the bleeders that got the short end of the stick. No one looked out for them and no one particularly cared to. Even if Hellsing didn't fully approve of what these people were doing, they were still human beings and they deserved help when they needed it. Walsh hummed thoughtfully. He assured her the issue would be brought up at the next Round Table meeting, but he couldn't promise anything would come of it. The other knights didn't like talking about such things and Integra would have to fight them over it.

The older knight eventually headed off to greet others at the function, leaving them alone. A few men came over to attempt to drag Edmund away for a glass of brandy. One of those male bonding things that Syn had never understood. Her cousin politely turned down the offer.

"Why is it always Brandy?" the redhead asked. "That's the only thing the men drink at these parties – brandy and sherry."

"I don't understand it either." Integra replied, glancing at Edmund sideways. "I have a personal preference for scotch, myself."

He wrinkled his nose. "Scotch is awful. I prefer whiskey."

Syn couldn't say much to that. She didn't like any type of alcohol. Too many years spent working in a bar in her younger years had destroyed any desire to drink the stuff. To the left, she caught sight of a man approaching. Sir Anthony Bratton. He was one of the newest additions to the Round Table Conference and hadn't yet learned that the sun and moon didn't rise and set on his ass. He was young, about 24 or so, and was so damn arrogant about everything that it was extremely difficult for Syn to restrain herself from punching him in the face each and every time she saw him. He'd taken up the post of his grandfather eight months ago, and immediately became the center of several heated disputes. Most of the other knights didn't like him either.

"Bloody fucking hell, what does he want?" Ed muttered when he saw he was coming straight toward them.

Integra turned to peer in the direction he was looking and narrowed her eye. "Wonderful. A goddamned fight is just the thing we need right now."

The man came to a halt before them and swept his hand back over his perfectly combed hair. What a bloody show off. Strutting around like a damn peacock. He accentuated their negative impression of him by turning and holding out his hand to Syn first. It was a terrible show of disrespect to Integra and her husband. Since she wasn't a knight, the redhead should have been the last to be addressed..

"Miss Newsom." he said silkily, reaching down to take her hand. "It's such a pleasure to see you here."

She deftly pulled her hand back before he could touch her. She didn't want to catch any infectious diseases he might be carrying.

"Is there something of importance you need to say, Sir Bratton?" Integra questioned from the side. "Because if not, I highly suggest you go elsewhere."

Bratton arched a brow and lowered his hand, straightening. "This is a social event, Sir Integra. I thought it was only appropriate to come and speak to you for a moment." he squared his shoulders and smiled. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Walsh. Having trouble with the bleeders, are you?"

The lady knight narrowed her good eye. "For the time being, my conversation with Sir Walsh is none of your concern." she told him in an icy sounding voice. "The details will be brought up at our next meeting."

He waved a hand through the air. "I honestly don't see why this is worth bringing to the Round Table's attention. Those people are simply a waste of time." he glanced at the redhead. "But then, I suppose it's only natural you would take to defending them since you have one working for you."

"Excuse me?" Syn said in a threateningly low tone.

She caught a lot of flack for her strange relationship with Hellsing's master vampire, but Bratton went way over the line with that comment. She was going to kill him. Rip his entrails out and string him up from the ceiling by them. Alucard would approve. He might even help her out.

"Well, given your highly inappropriate relationships with vampires, one can only assume such a thing." the man commented as if it were nothing. He cocked his head to the side. "I noticed you brought your little half-breed hell spawn with you. I'm absolutely shocked you let him out of his cage for the evening."

Oh hell no he didn't! The redhead was used to being on the receiving end of attacks and had long ago learned the value of restraint and keeping her mouth shut. But all of that turned off when someone starting talking about her son. Edmund had to grab her by the arm to keep her from attacking him.

"You are out of line, Anthony." Integra said, using his first name to show how angry she was. "That 'half-breed hell spawn' is my nephew, and I don't take kindly to insults directed at any member of my family."

Bratton sniffed. "I can't say there's very much of your family left." he told her. "Marrying a commoner and tying your name to monsters... You've created quite a mess of things, Integra."

Edmund stiffened and let go of Syn's arm, looking like he fully intended to help her kick the man's miserable ass.

"That's Sir Integra to you, you miserable piece of trash." he spat spat at him. "And I suggest you turn your happy ass around and leave before something bad happens to you."

"Oh really?" he said, looking amused. "And just what do you think is going to happen if I don't?"

"Me."

A swirl of black shadows manifested directly behind him and twisted together into Alucard's intimidating and extremely pissed off looking form. Bratton whirled around at the sound of his voice and shrank back. Even as pompous as he was, he still knew better than to face down an angry vampire.

"Ah, Alucard." Integra said, her voice sounding almost bright. "It's so goodof you to join us. We were just having the most interesting conversation with Sir Bratton here." she glanced over at the much younger knight. "Would you care to share some of your opinions with my vampire?"

Bratton quickly looked back and forth between her and Alucard while the No Life King growled at him from low in his throat. He looked about ready to piss himself.

"I... have to go." he mumbled, then turned and briskly walked away. Not fast enough to be considered a run, but certainly much faster than normal.

Syn watched his back as he retreated, then sighed. "I really want to blow his brains out." she said. "Why can't we kill him again?"

Integra sighed. "Because he's the head of the Royal Air Force and he's damn good at his job." she replied, looking like she didn't like it much either. "We can only hope his overly large ego will find him in a fighter jet shot down over some hostile territory. Until such a thing happens, we're stuck with dealing with him, I'm afraid." she looked between Alucard and Edmund. "I'll trust you to keep that bastard away from my daughter. I need a cigar."

That sounded like an excellent idea, Syn thought. She could do with a hit of nicotine as well. It might be just the thing to calm her nerves.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" she asked.

"Not at all." the knight replied.

So they headed toward the door, Integra pulling out her cigars, while Syn retrieved her pack of clove cigarettes. She sincerely hoped this little party wouldn't go on much longer because she didn't know if she had enough of them to make it through the night.

"Focus, Mihnea." Alucard instructed. "Search out his presence and you will feel him."

Mihnea had been pleasantly surprised when his father searched him out for an impromptu lesson on using his powers. He was even more eager to go through with it when he learned the reason. One of the knights had been acting like a royal ass with his family. Pip and uncle Edmund were there too, adding their two cents on what should be done to 'teach the man a lesson in manners'.

The boy closed his eyes to block out the distractions of the room around him and focused. Anthony Bratton, he thought. He could sense he was somewhere in the palace, but couldn't place exactly where yet. He clamped down on the presence he felt, following it to his location. It was a... bathroom? And he wasn't alone in there either. There were two others with him. Women, he decided when he sensed them. And the three of them were...

"Dad!" he exclaimed. "You knew what was going on in there! That's disgusting!"

Sir Bratton was locked in a bathroom having a quickie threesome with two women from the ball. Just the idea of that man doing anything of the sort made Mihnea want to gag.

The master vampire just chuckled. "Keep your focus." he told him. "You remember your lessons in summoning shadows?"

The boy turned to look at him and nodded. Alucard inclined his head.

"You're going to twist those shadows into the shape of an animal." he told him, then explained the process.

It sounded like a matter of manipulating the shadows into a chosen form, then directing enough intent into it so it could act on it's own. Of course, that meant he'd have to focus on infusing the shadows with the behaviors of the animal form he chose. He gave it a shot by forming a shadow cat that looked just like Pixie on the floor in front of them. The summoned animal pranced and jumped around just like she did.

"Not bad." his father commented once he was successful. "But I doubt a cat is going to inspire much of a reaction. Search the man's mind and find out what he fears."

So Mihnea closed his eyes again and began to search. Entering someone's thoughts was a tricky thing. He often couldn't get anything clear – like specific words or images. Only feelings and vague memories. But he happened across a particular memory that would prove useful. He opened his eyes and switched the form of his shadows from a cat to a small cockroach.

"You're joking." Uncle Edmund said when he saw it. "The bastard's scared of cockroaches?" he paused a moment, his eyes taking on that mischievous glint that usually appeared when he offered assistance with something that was sure to make mom and aunt Integra mad. "Make it bigger."

So he did. Mihnea gave the shadows more mass until it grew to a pretty large sized insect. Not abnormally huge, but perhaps a teensy bit bigger than a hissing cockroach. Pip examined the new shadow form carefully. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but was interrupted by a feminine voice

"Um... What are you doing?"

All four of them turned to see Seras standing there, looking like she wasn't sure whether to get involved, or move somewhere far, far away from them. Alucard narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I'm giving your brother a lesson." he said dismissively. "Go keep an eye on our young master."

The draculina could obviously sense they were up to no good. She opened her mouth. "Master..."

"I said go, Police Girl."

She immediately closed her mouth. When she turned on her heel to go find Connie, Mihnea could hear her muttering something about hoping they didn't blow the place up so she wouldn't get blamed for it. Once she was out of listening range, Pip leaned down to speak softly to him.

"You zhould zend een a whole army." he told him. "Dozens of zhem."

That was a bit harder. He'd have to form several separate shapes and keep them distinct from each other. It took a few minutes, but he finally managed it. Standing in neat little rows were about 16 large hissing cockroaches.

"Now keep your thoughts fixed on where you wish them to go and send them off." his father told him.

The boy thought it would be strange or hard to send so many things to a place where he wouldn't be able to see them, but it really wasn't. He could simply give them a command. Go to the bathroom down the hall, third door on the left. And off they went like a garrison of little soldiers to perform their mission. These bugs he had created were faster than he expected. The loud screams rang out a lot sooner than he thought they would.

It was a sight that wouldn't soon be forgotten. Two young women came running out of the bathroom down the hall and into the ballroom, their dresses half hanging off of them while they tried to keep themselves covered as they ran. Then came Sir Bratton, running as best he could with his trousers around his ankles and his silk boxers with blue and pink polka dots out for God and everyone to see. He screamed like a five year old girl when he tripped and hit the floor. When he looked back and saw the massive cockroaches were still scuttling after him, he squealed again and started crawling across the marble floor. Once they got over the initial shock of what was happening, every soul in the room burst out laughing.

"Excellent work." Alucard proclaimed, clamping a hand down on his shoulder with a wide grin of pride.

Uncle Ed looked like he fully approved as well. "That will teach him who's common. I do believe Bratton will have a disciplinary hearing after this." he commented. "Isn't the brunette Sir Pentwood's fiance?"

Pip leaned forward to get a better look, then whistled. "I'd 'ate to be 'im right now. Messing wizh another bloke's bird getz people killed..."

When aunt Integra walked back into the room, closely followed by his mother, Mihnea half thought he'd get in trouble, or at least be lectured about it when they got home. But both of them were too amused by the whole thing to get mad. Integra had a hand over her mouth trying not to laugh, while Syn was holding her sides, looking like she was about to fall out in the floor. Not only had he embarrassed the junior member of the Round Table Conference in the middle of Her Majesty's ball, but he'd also dragged out his dirty little secret. The man was seducing young women and pulling them into doing highly inappropriate things in the Queen's own home.

Sir Anthony Bratton would never be able to live this down. It turned out to be a much better night than he had imagined.

A.N: And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why it's extremely dangerous to allow any of the men working at Hellsing to be left alone with each other. You never know what the hell they're going to do, or who they're going to pull in the middle of it. :D We will be returning to school next chapter!

So my town is going through a series of rolling blackouts right now. It's 103 degrees outside and the air conditioner cuts off every ten - twenty minutes. I'm going to put this up before my computer shuts down or I die of heatstroke. O_o

Reviews!