"I wonder" I said "why Skitter wrote about me and Lou, and even about you, but not a word about Pat. And what would be the article - asocial Potter and his best friend - misanthrope and nihilist Random."
It was a Thursday evening, and Hermione and I were serving time for our unforgettable "date."
Snape seemed to want to cook us something "special", but Filch intercepted us tonight. The caretaker of the school, still experiencing a nervous shock over his freshly painted cat, received a new injury - someone threw dung bombs into his office (and I even guess who).
After listening to his indignant cries, the gloomy Potions Master obligingly left me and Hermione at Filch's full disposal. Therefore, our punishment was simply amazing - we wiped the office of the supply manager without the help of magic. Hermione wrinkled her nose, but did not resent it - apparently she decided that our cause was worth it. I gallantly took most of it for myself - after all, lying about the "date" was my idea. And thanks to the Dursleys, I have a lot of cleaning experience. Filch himself got tired of dealing with Peeves, prudently taking our wands.
"That's clear," said Hermione, "who cares about Pat Random? No one has heard of him, and no one will read about him."
"But everyone will talk about me," I remarked sullenly.
"I don't think it's all about sales volume," Hermione continued to develop her version, "I think Skitter, or rather someone through her, is trying to create... Harry, what are you doing?" she suddenly hissed.
I, meanwhile, climbing into the box with the inscription "Confiscated. Extremely dangerous," and squinting at the door, he replied: "If I say that I am returning my rightful inheritance, will you believe me?"
She looked at me as if I were a grave defiler, but I couldn't help but notice the twinkle of curiosity in her eyes as she glanced at the tattered parchment in my hand.
"I think I saw something like that with Fred and George…" She drawled. I smiled slyly as I folded the parchment and stuffed it into my pocket.
"They were only short-term tenants."
I returned to my rag.
"So what were you talking about?"
Hermione, after a moment of silence and her signature McGonogall piercing gaze, said:
"I'm saying that the main purpose of these articles is to create a certain image of Harry Potter."
"Yes? And why?" I was surprised.
She rolled her eyes.
"Borrow it yourself. You are the symbol of the liberation of the wizarding community from the Who... Ok, from Voldemort. In the event of its revival and the start of a new war... " Hermione's face darkened, "in this case, you would become the symbol that would unite people in the fight against him. You just don't realize yet what a significant place you occupy in the hearts of the people who were fighting against Voldemort then. And what happens after these articles? Who is Harry Potter? Yes, this is just a lazybones, to whom give something to set fire to, arrange some kind of chaos and drag around for skirts. "Deserving a celebrity by its mere existence"!"
I thought. Hermione's words made sense. If you look at these unfortunate articles from this position, then yes, it really looked like they decided to promote me "in black". On the other hand, I had no desire to become "a symbol that will unite people in the fight against Voldemort."
"Things could be worse," I said optimistically, "I could be presented as an unbalanced psychopath with aggressive tendencies. So it's definitely better to be a presumptuous "star boy"."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione frowned.
"That it's better to be underestimated than overestimated," I explained wisely.
"But people are starting to think that you are just a playboy, and not…"
"Who?" I chuckled. "The savior of mankind? Voldemort's winner? I have enough problems of my own."
"That's not what I meant to say," she muttered, "and what problems are you talking about?"
"Hermione," I began ingratiatingly, "who do you think is to blame for Voldemort's disappearance? Yes, that's right, and you don't need to look at me so expressively for this. And you realize that if he comes back, he'll want to kill me first? And I, as selfish as it sounds, want to continue being the Boy-Who-Lived. And now I'm more worried about how I can protect myself, and not about the features of my image! Even though the whole world considers me a narcissistic blockhead - those people whose opinion I value, still know what I really am. You can't be good to everyone. Snape here, for example, and without Skitter considers me a star-studded idiot. Now you won't deny that he hates me?"
Hermione sighed.
Yes, now I have one hundred percent confirmation of Professor Snape's "beautiful" attitude towards me - I was still able to extract the truth from my godfather and Lupin. Monday night in the library, I told Pat and Hermione about it. In principle, my assumption about the hatred between the father and Snape was completely confirmed, so this was not big news. And so the most interesting was the "case of the werewolf" - a tale about the very original sense of humor of Sirius Black and the amazing heroism of James Potter. My friends were amazed by this story to the core. True, each in their own way. And, if you look at it from the point of view of Hogwarts, everyone took it as a true representative of their house. "And your father got him out of there?" Hermione exclaimed, "Oh! This is truly a bold move!"
Pat sat there, looking slightly taken aback.
"Did he go there in his right mind?" He whispered inquiringly.
"Who? Father?" I didn't understand
"Father, but not yours," my friend chuckled darkly, "Snape stumbled under this Willow, already expecting to meet a werewolf there? On a full moon? Yes, even on a tip from Sirius? Are you saying that a normal person would do something like that?!"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You draw your own conclusions."
Pat scratched his temple thoughtfully.
"Yeah," he drawled, grimacing. "And what kind of people are you and I, Harry? We study in warring faculties, our fathers hated each other. Apparently, sooner or later you will have to challenge you to a duel."
"Yeah," I agreed, "but keep in mind that your dad is alive, and mine is not. So I have to kill you."
Pat sighed and spread his arms in mock sadness.
"Well then, where do we go? Swords or pistols? I prefer pistols."
"Of course, because my eyesight is bad, and you will shoot me. Well, no, come on swords. It will be fair - neither you nor I know how to fence."
Hermione snorted, but there was laughter in her voice.
"It's really impossible. How did you just become friends?"
"Oh!" I exclaimed, "this is an amazing story. At school, as soon as we met, we, of course, immediately became rivals in everything.
"Yes!" Pat nodded in agreement "always competed - in sports, in studies for the best marks..."
"...made dates with the same girls" I continued to burst into a nightingale.
"In, macho Gryffindor! Well, one day we suddenly thought - why should two such cool guys quarrel? And we've been best friends ever since."
I nodded my head affirmatively in favor of this nonsense.
"Truth?" Hermione didn't believe us.
"No," we answered in unison and laughed.
"Do you think Pat will succeed?" Hermione asked me worriedly.
"I'd rather Snape wash his hair than Patrick Random fail. The question is what will be the results. Our guinea will chat, the main thing is that Pat hears it. Given their "good-neighbourly" relations..."
"I think Malfoy is just jealous of his popularity in Slytherin. Well, a little afraid of him."
"Jealous - understandable, but why be afraid?"
Hermione immediately began to explain with a slightly condescending air,
"Pat suddenly appears at Hogwarts and immediately begins to become famous. He's not loaded with silly pureblood ideas, and that's what drew all the sane part of Slytherin to him. Harry Potter's best friend, which is important - and don't make that face. But most importantly, Snape turns a blind eye to all his antics, and this clearly alarms Malfoy. He's used to being his favorite. Mind, to understand that Pat is the son of Snape, he apparently lacks."
Hermione took great pleasure in the thought that Draco Malfoy was trying unsuccessfully to solve the mystery of Snape's unusual loyalty to his new student, which she herself had solved long ago. Malfoy was for her not only a class enemy, but also a personal one.
"After this article, everyone still considers you and me a couple," I remarked.
"Well, let them count," said Hermione rather flippantly.
"Oh!" I was surprised, "here someone learns my indifference?"
"Not at all," she objected, definitely believing that the headman did not care, "you're just right — you shouldn't get so hung up on such nonsense. Really - what difference does it make whether they consider me your girlfriend or not."
"I just thought," I began, "if it interferes with your personal life…"
Hermione chuckled skeptically.
"After all these rumors, I have already been invited on dates five times."
I whistled.
"You see, your fame reflects on everyone around you," Hermione pointed out.
"Come on," I objected, "you're just an attractive girl, so they invite you."
I think I've managed to confuse her.
"Before, for some reason, they didn't invite me," she opened up.
"Just afraid," I suggested, "boys are always afraid of smart girls.
"Well, of course," her voice sounded offended, and she began to forcefully rub the floor in the corner, "Harry, they consider me a bore and a nerd, and no one wants to understand how hard it is..."
"Hard what?" I asked cautiously, surprised at Hermione's sudden outburst of candor.
"Everything!" she exclaimed, "when I got the letter from Hogwarts, I was so happy! I was so happy, because in reality my wildest expectations came true. Yes, I memorized all the textbooks before school, and not at all because I wanted to be the best, as some people think - I was so interested! And it's normal that I wanted to know everything about the new world, of which I suddenly found myself a part! I was so afraid of seeming stupid and funny that I don't know what others are used to since childhood! So afraid of breaking some rule, so afraid of being thrown out of Hogwarts because of some stupidity!"
She slapped the wet rag on the floor with force, and I was afraid to answer anything to her. Looks like she's had it for a long time. In general, it seemed to me that she was saying this more for herself than for me.
"But that's not so bad," Hermione continued bitterly, "few people understand that if you are from Muggles, then sooner or later you move away from the life you are used to, move away from your parents... No, of course they don't mind my going to Hogwarts... But sometimes I understand that they would be happier if I went to a normal school. They were so happy when I was appointed headman, this is exactly what they are able to understand... And old friends. I don't talk to them anymore! I have to lie that I go to a boarding school for gifted kids. And even if I told the truth, and if they believed, we would still move away from each other, because I would become for them like a monster with two heads!.. But no one wants to understand this!"
She sighed loudly and looked at me absentmindedly.
"Sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have dumped all this on you," Hermione muttered.
"To be honest, people in my presence often break through on frankness. I didn't know you were in such a bad placeplace"
"No, I don't feel bad here!" Said Hermione, "I like studying here. It's just..."
What she wanted to add, I never found out. Waddling Filch returned - as it turned out, Peeves threw armor under his feet, he stumbled and now the list of presenting the caretaker to the poltergeist has increased by one more item.
"It's getting late, Harry, let's hurry up."
But contrary to her words, I stopped near the statue of some strange dude with a beard in the shape of a shovel.
"Wait, you have to make sure it's her."
""She"?" said Hermione displeasedly, "are you talking about your parchment?"
"Yeah." In the meantime, I unfolded it and said the cherished words: "solemnly swear that I am up to no good"
Apparently, my instinct did not fail me. It was really her.
"The Marauder's Map," I said with some reverence.
"Oooh…" Hermione drawled, staring at the map and forgetting that she was actually in a hurry, "she's showing…"
"Everyone," I finished, "where he is, where he is going..."
"What a powerful spell," Hermione whispered with admiration and slight envy, "look, Harry, it's us. Here is Filch in his office."
"Pat, Deirdre, Malfoy and Goyle are in the common room," I remarked.
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but..."
"Oh, my God…" she turned pale and pointed at a dot with a cheerful inscription "Manticore", "tell me that this is someone's last name!"
"Of course," I automatically agreed, also staring at that dot, "remember such a terrible Hufflepuff from the seventh year?.."
Hermione looked at me expressively, and I shut up.
"Can a map lie?" she asked.
"The map doesn't lie," I replied, "never."
I took another look at the parchment.
The monster was in one of the deserted passages of the dungeons, and, apparently, was marking time, not knowing where to go.
"I should tell one of the teachers," Hermione said in a slightly distant voice, "thank God there's no one else there."
"Yes," I agreed, " I should say Re… Oh shit! There goes the moon. Quickly to Lupin, and I'm down!" I shouted as I walked.
"Harry, what can you do?" Hermione exclaimed a little desperately.
"Run!!!"I shouted, not understanding for whom.
I don't know what made me run like this headlong into the arms of the manticore. Probably something clicked in the brain, or something like that... In any case, I thought about the reasons for my behavior later, and then my only goal was to prevent the acquaintance of the Moon with one Greek monster. It wasn't very long to run, so I was able to intercept Luna just as she appeared in the manticore's field of view. She was walking nonchalantly and absolutely fearlessly towards the monster, and I managed to grab her in my arms and almost fell with her due to inertia.
"Harry! Luna exclaimed in surprise "what are you doing here?"
"I'm saving you, but it's not noticeable?" I muttered, staring at the manticore. The monster standing in front of me seemed to have descended from the pages of medieval bestiaries... Or from a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. An absolutely human head rested on lion's shoulders, and unnaturally blue eyes looked at us with some prehistoric innocence. I immediately vividly imagined this creature tearing off my limbs and tearing me to pieces. And then it will purr softly, like Crookshanks near the fireplace...
"Before that manticore runs, we need to get out of here fast," I hissed at Luna.
"Harry" she gently reproached me, looking at this monster with interest, "manticores are found in Greece. I think it's a Scottish mallivara. They look like manticores, but are completely harmless. If you had read the last issue of The Quibbler..."
As Luna spoke, my gaze was fixed on the manticore's tail, which she lazily waved from side to side.
"Yes, for me, even a vicious bandersnatch," I muttered, and then this creature rushed at us. I shoved Luna in the side, and a dangerous sting swept within a foot of us. I don't know if the manticore has any kind of mind, but I feel that it will not leave us just like that. Where is Hermione?
"Oh, it seems you are right, Harry," Luna agreed, when we once again dodged the tail, "it really is a manticore. This statement did not make me feel any better. The skin of a manticore is the same as that of a dragon, so casting spells is pointless. Unless…
"We need to pin down her tail!" prompted my friend in misfortune, when this monster knocked down the armor with its tail.
"How?"
"Something," Luna suggested logically.
For another ten minutes, we ran from the manticore along a relatively small corridor, dodging the poisonous sting. I don't know where Hermione disappeared there, but all the inhabitants of the castle should have come running to the noise.
"Look, her tail is right behind the statue!" Luna pointed out to me. To her credit, there was not a drop of fear or panic in her behavior. I'd be delighted if we didn't have a manticore on our tail.
"Together," I told her, and pointed my wand at the statue of an incomprehensible creature that looked like a winged pig. A second after the crash of this thing, Hermione and Lupin appeared right on the tail of the local bandersnatch (or barmaglot, always confused them).
"Oh my God," was all my friend said and stared in horror at the manticore, which had suddenly become silent. Rem, with his wand at the ready, assessed the situation with one glance and quickly asked,
"Is everyone alive?"
"Looks like it," he answered, adjusting his glasses, which had gone astray. I walked as far as possible around the manticore, which bared its teeth, at which the Moon continued to look with the same undying interest.
"Yes, it's definitely not a Scottish mallivara," she said a little upset, "they don't have such big teeth.
"Well done," Remus patted me on the shoulder, " Luna, how did you get here?"
And judging by the slightly guilty look Hermione gave me, how I ended up here, he knows.
"I was working off my punishment with Professor Snape," Luna replied nonchalantly, "and as I was leaving, I heard some noise and strange sniffling, so I decided to take a look.
"Curiosity is not a vice, but it has killed so many cats," I muttered, still looking at the monster.
"What's going on here? Lupine?" We heard a familiar voice behind us. That's where Snape went. How could it be without him. I think together with the manticore they will make a wonderful still life. Rem waved his hand vaguely towards the creature, which now looked dejected. Snape, are you scared... The Potions master looked quickly at the monster, then at Lupin, then back at the manticore, and then at me. Moreover, with such an accusing look, as if I personally dragged her to the castle.