For the next few days, Lupin and Sirius completely abandoned us. We could take care of ourselves, of course, but we" slightly " trashed the living room while practicing spells (we found a book called "Battle Spells" at Remus ' place: how not to lose in the war with the dark forces" and already had a lot of fun, depicting the war of good and evil). For a few days of spending time with each other, Pat and I, having bought a beer in a nearby village, decided to have fun until three in the morning (or, already in the morning?) playing cards and talking nonsense (do you think only girls like to talk?). They talked first about magic, then about their former classmates, then about Camp Hampton, then about girls, then about girls again, then about Camp Hampton again, then about the outstanding forms of the young English literature teacher, Miss Branning. Then I realized that we were already talking, and I decided that it was time to go to bed. The next day my godfather and I were going to Diagon Alley… I spent the whole night running around London at night, alternately hiding from the government, which wanted to get hold of secret information (which only I knew), and from Sue Tarrance, my ex-girlfriend. In the early hours of the morning, I somehow ended up in a strip club, and in front of me danced a half-naked Miss Branning, the dream of all puberty teenagers in our school (by the way, and not only teenagers, and not only in our school). She was smiling so invitingly at me, looking so pointedly at me… But as soon as she got close to me, I (like the last idiot) I told her:

"Sorry, Miss Branning, not this time. I need to go to the boys ' room right away." Then he opened his eyes. I wonder what such a dream means according to Freud? Although I don't know what that vulgar old Sigmund would have said, I really needed to go to the bathroom right away. Beer, it is beer… I literally rolled down the stairs, because the room I needed was on the first floor, and immediately, literally nose-to-nose, I bumped into Sirius…

"Oops," was all I could say, because Sirius wasn't alone. I mean, if he was with Remus, it wouldn't matter, but there was a girl standing next to his godfather, and a girl like that… So dressed. I mean, I wasn't very good myself.

"Harry!" My godfather exclaimed. He looked, for some reason, embarrassed, as if it was he who was standing in his underwear, and not me.

"Harry," he said a little nervously, " this is Ginny Weasley, Arthur's daughter… Although, you seem to already know each other…" That's right, Sirius said the Weasleys lived somewhere nearby.

"Oh, yes! "Shut your mitten, you idiot," I snapped at myself.

Mentally, of course. "I'm... familiar, of course.

Found out. Hi" I finally said. So smart! The only way I could recognize her right now was by the bright red spot that probably meant her hair. His features were blurring. I didn't wear my glasses!

"And the owls with your letters from school accidentally flew to us," my former cellmate said and showed me some envelopes. Sirius seemed to have just noticed the bedlam around them. Two broken chairs, a few singed spots on the curtains, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and empty beer bottles…

"What were you doing here?" Sirius asked suspiciously, taking in the whole mess with a dumbfounded look.

"Ah ... uh ... we, it ... was. Bachelor party" I said, noticing that Ginny's shoulders were beginning to shake with laughter. I couldn't stand it any longer-look, I'm here…

Just for a few minutes.

"You're having fun here," I heard Ginny say after me. Yeah. Here, every day is a holiday!

When I was done with my chores and showered, I felt an unspeakable sense of relief. Sirius and Remus were apparently having a quiet conversation in the kitchen. I let them go, and went upstairs to wake Pat up without any witnesses. I got dressed first, of course.

"Pat, wake up," I tried to rouse my friend, who flatly refused to respond to external stimuli and only mumbled something unintelligible.

"Pat, get up, the owls are lost here!"

"What the fuck owls," my friend muttered, turning over, " fuck off, Potter, let me sleep…"

Well, that's it…

"RANDOM, GET UP!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Pat jumped up in bed, looking at me with wild eyes:

"What the fuck are you, Potter?"

I laughed as maliciously as I could,

" How else can I wake up Our Highness? Get up, get dressed, we've got letters from school."

"What other letters? Which one else…" Pat began angrily, then shook his head as if shaking off sleep and a hangover. "From Hogwarts? What for?"

I shrugged my shoulders. My head ached a little after yesterday, and I didn't think they were drunk yesterday…

"I don't know. It is necessary, then. I'll go down. Just don't go to sleep again."

Pat made a face:

"Because of your efforts, I'll be afraid to fall asleep at all now."

Lupin was indeed in the kitchen with Sirius. They were talking about something, and they looked a little tense. Although, recently, they were constantly whispering about something and exchanging worried glances.

"...this death of Karkaroff…" I heard Remus say.

"Good morning again," I said.

My godfather and Lupin immediately fell silent. The name was vaguely familiar.

"Actually, it's already half past eleven," Remus informed me. But he didn't answer the question.

"Oooh… Really?" I asked, surprised. I didn't look at my watch today… Sirius chuckled, but said nothing about the mess in the living room. By the way, I've long suspected that my godfather's greatest fear is that I'll turn out to be a good boy.

"So who is it?" I reminded her. I hate it when people hide things from me. I feel like an idiot because everyone around me knows more than I do. And about me, too. Sirius and Remus looked at each other.

"Igor Karkarov was a Death Eater. He was recently found dead," his godfather said flatly.

"Eater of what?" I didn't understand.

"That's what Voldemort's minions called themselves," Remus explained.

And then I remembered!

"Karkaroff! "Mysterious death"! This was reported in the newspaper. Well, ordinary, Muggle!"

"I told you the Ministry was getting worse and worse," said my godfather.

"By the way," I said, " we were going to Diagon Alley. I'm going to school the day after tomorrow."

The godfather smiled a little crookedly and said,

" Well, if you're able to…"

"You're hurting me!" I replied, trying to put on my most innocent expression.

Then Pat came into the kitchen:

"Good…" he tried to find the clock with his eyes, but failed - "...hello! Did I miss something?"

"I think we missed something here," Remus muttered softly, but everyone heard.

"So where are these letters that you ungodly woke me up for?" Remus gave us each an envelope of yellowish parchment.

"Actually, it's very strange. The Hogwarts owls always find their destination" he said.

The envelope contained an official invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a list of required textbooks, and a ticket for the Hogwarts Express that left from Platforms 9 and 3/4? Which platform???

Such a big and friendly family we gathered on Diagon Alley.

"How do we get there? By car?" I asked.

"No, it's too long. We'll use the fireplace" said the good godfather. I looked warily at the big fireplace.

"I don't understand," I said honestly.

"Oh, yes! You don't know" Remus said "but I'll go first. See."

And we looked. Lupin took a pinch of some shiny flour from the pot on the mantelpiece (which Pat and I thought was fertilizer), stepped over to the fireplace, and threw the flour on the fire. The flames roared, turned emerald, and rose higher than Remus, who stepped into the fire, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared. I think my friend and I were standing there with our mouths hanging open. I don't feel like going into the fireplace…

"Is this mandatory?" I asked my godfather a little nervously.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt," Sirius assured me, grinning, "as long as you speak clearly and clearly, or else…

"You'll go down the drain," said grim Pat.

Well, dying is like that with music. I boldly stepped into the fireplace, though the dust made me cough a little and I didn't say anything very clearly… Probably… However, I couldn't think about it any more, because I felt dizzy, spun around — it felt like I was being sucked into the turbine of an airplane.

The feeling is not pleasant, I want to tell you… You know, I wasn't even very surprised when I fell out of the marble fireplace and onto the stone floor of the now-familiar, dimly lit shop, right at the feet of the now-familiar merchant.

I got up, briskly brushed off the soot, and said hello:

"Good afternoon, Mr... "

"Borgin," the salesman said, looking at me thoughtfully with a phlegmatic look. It's as if Harry Potters are pouring out of their fireplaces every day.

"Mr. Borgin," I said, nodding to indicate that I remembered, "I'll take my leave in a hurry. I already know the way, thank you."

He followed me with the same melancholy look and didn't even say goodbye. Well, to hell with it.

Without incident, I went out on Diagon Alley and immediately saw our company. From a distance, it looked more like a gang.

"Harry!" My godfather exclaimed in relief, " we were beginning to worry. Where did you go?"

"Oh! straight to our old friend Mr. Borgin!"

"I thought he might have been carried one fireplace farther," Remus said matter — of-factly.

"Flew, after all, into the tube!" Pat whispered to me.

I wanted to answer him, but I couldn't. Because Pat and I were attacked by some blond monster and managed to grab both of us together.

"Guys! How boring it was without you!"

Lou. Of course. It was boring. But now no one will be bored anymore. Lou, in her sweet way, kissed us all on the cheeks and deigned to let us go. I think she was going to attack her godfather and Lupin as well, but she changed her mind at the last moment. And after adding one more blonde nuisance to our party, we went shopping. First we went and got Pat's wand. Old Ollivander handed him his wand and announced

"Thirteen inches, ebony, Veela hair. Very powerful. Perfect for battle spells." Apparently, he was very proud of his work. Patu's wand came up. He waved it — and a trail of dazzling white sparks flew. It was like a short circuit. I wonder if if Lou's hair is in the wand, will it attract as much trouble? Then we bought a uniform. Or rather, it was a robe. I didn't feel much for her, but Pat didn't like her very much. He said he looked like a huge bat in it. Then we bought all sorts of nonsense, such as cauldrons, scales, potion ingredients. At a store that sold boilers, I noticed a round-faced guy of our age with a strict elderly lady, apparently a grandmother.

As they passed by, I could hear the guy saying that he was just happy that he didn't have to learn Potions anymore. It seems that the guy's happiness was absolute. Then we calmly and without excesses bought the necessary textbooks. But on the way out of the bookstore, I had to remember that I wasn't just Harry, but Harry-Potter-the-Boy-Who-Lived. On the way out, I was almost blinded by the camera flash.

"There he is! A lady with a complicated hairstyle and a bulldog look said. I saw it when the white circles stopped moving in front of my eyes. The lady almost grabbed me by the scruff of the neck with thick fingers with bright red claws and pulled me forward. Her grip was also that of a bulldog.

I barely escaped.

"Harry Potter! The Boy — Who-Lived!" she shouted frantically, as if I were a delicious pie on her table and she was going to eat me. "We'll be on the front page tomorrow!

How does it feel to be back in the magical world? Do you miss your untimely parents? You..."

"No comment!" that was the only thing that came to mind. I probably said it quite harshly, because she got away with it.

"Rita Skeeter," my godfather said through gritted teeth as we walked down the street, "Forget about that fool, she's a sensationalist." Sirius must have run into her on the narrow path before. The last destination was a place where, in the words of the godfather, "we will like it." It was a brightly colored shop called Weasley's Amazing Tricks. The owners of this place were two young men, two years older than Pat and me. Red-haired twins with sly faces — Fred and George Weasley.

"I sponsored them," my godfather told me "but Molly almost killed me. But the guys have business acumen." I was looking at the shelves of merchandise. As I understood it, the twins specialized in how to mess up their neighbor, ranging from a neighbor at the desk to a teacher.

"Do you know the Weasleys that well?"

I asked my godfather.

"Now, yes," said Sirius, " after Pettigrew has been with them for twelve years, they feel a certain amount of respect for me… Guilt, let's just say. Often invited to dinner." I ran into the younger Weasleys again in the shop. Collided literally, head-on. She clutched her forehead and blushed. I probably thought that if I didn't parade around the neighborhood in my underwear, I would inevitably drag everyone to the police station.

"Also decided to go shopping today?" Sirius asked.

Ginny nodded.

"Mom and Ron are buying textbooks. And Bill and Flux (Ginny made a disgusted face) are at Florean's."

"So Bill brought old Fleur with him?"

Fred asked. Or maybe George.

"Fleur?" Lou asked suddenly, " Fleur Delacour?"

"Do you know her?" Ginny asked.

Lou's expression was exactly the same as Ginny's a moment ago.

"Of course I know. She's my sister's best friend. So that's who she's marrying…" Lou and Ginny found each other. I've noticed for a long time that girls are best friends against someone else. After twenty minutes of their emotional conversation, Pat whispered in my ear.:

"Have you ever heard of a worse girl than Fleur Delacour?"

The very next morning, I was overwhelmed by amazing news. By tradition, all the news was about me. In the morning, Sirius opened a newspaper called The Daily Prophet. As he read, his eyes grew darker and darker.

Finally, he threw the newspaper on a chair and announced loudly:

"Bitch!"

I went over and picked up the ProphetProphet. From the front page, my own image stared back at me, along with a large sign that read "Hero's Return." My jaw slowly but surely began to fall away.

The Boy-Who-Lived returns to the magical world… Little-known details… Young Rebel... previously introduced to justice… Muggle police records… Arson of a school... correctional facilities… The legal guardian is Sirius Black, whose innocence is vaguely proven… What can we expect from him?…

Not even the Dursleys and Aunt Marge put me through that much trouble together. I looked rather sinister in the photograph.

I tried to cover the camera lens with my hand and flashed my glasses menacingly.

"You just haven't looked in the mirror in a long time," Pat told me. He was standing behind me, reading the article over my shoulder. I wonder how many people read this newspaper.

"What kind of conflict do you have with her?"

I asked Sirius.

My godfather winced as if he had a toothache.

"When I came out, she kept trying to get to me, wanted to write a "series of reports". In fact, no matter what you say to her, it will still turn into a scandal. And then I was even more not up to journalists, and I firmly rejected her. And now she likes to spread rumors that the evidence for my innocence is supposedly "not very reliable." fool!"

I flipped through the paper further, skimming the headlines. On the third page was an article titled "Who is behind the death of Igor Karkarov?". It gave dry facts about the man's death, and by the end concluded that Karkaroff had probably been killed for gambling debts.

"Fudge doesn't want to make a big deal out of it," said Sirius gloomily. All these rumors…

"What rumors?" I asked.

Godfather and Lupin looked at each other, as if deciding whether to speak or not.

"It's been fifteen years since Voldemort disappeared," Remus said, "but as soon as something out of the ordinary happens, people start talking about him or him... return…"

Then a question formed in my head that always loomed in my subconscious, but I couldn't catch it.

"Was there a body?"

"Whose body?" Sirius asked.

"His body. Voldemort's corpse. After all, the death spell ricocheted off of me onto it, so there must be a corpse." The room was silent for a few seconds. "He's gone," Remus said at last, "and the optimists think he's dead. Some kind of... condition" Lupin couldn't quite put it into words. That's when I really got scared. It was like being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water — that's how this elementary truth came to me.

"So," I said, "Voldemort can actually come back?" Sirius and Remus thought about it and nodded in unison.

"What's the matter with you?" Pat asked, looking at me.