"...did you see the office? Dungeons! Nightmare… Complete unsanitary conditions… That's when I was at university…" Pat's voice took on a dreamy tone.
"What the hell were you doing?" I asked lazily, squinting into the autumn sun. We were sitting by the lake, enjoying the unseasonably warm, sunny weather.
"Yes, I went to a guy I know, he's studying there… Well, that's where I understand — the laboratory! Reagents, microscopes… Everything is clean and sterile…"
"You haven't seen Aunt Petunia's kitchen. It's really sterile there!"
"Potter, stop interrupting me," Pat muttered.
"You've gored me already! You're the best at it, by the way."
"It's genetic. Inherited along with the nose."
It had been two weeks since we'd started Hogwarts, and while Pat hadn't shown the best side of his difficult personality in Potions, his results were unexpectedly superior., Hermione was chugging away at the cauldron, but even with her brain (and it was still such a big brain!) It wasn't easy; Malfoy, who spent most of his time making sarcastic slurs, wasn't particularly good at it or potions; my success rate was about sixty to forty (and I think I've memorized all five Potions textbooks in the last couple of weeks). And Patrick Random, without any great effort, prepared everything that was needed, eliciting grins of approval from his father and seeming to interest him more and more with each lesson. Even though Pat managed to keep an expression on his face throughout the lesson that made it very clear that everything he was doing was deeply repugnant to him and contrary to all his principles in life. And now, as always after dealing with his dad and his cauldrons, Pat was criticizing the Potions in great detail. I'm sick of it.
They stared at us as always. The Gryffindor-Slytherin friendship was so new here that it was an endless topic of conversation, gossip, laughter. What if the Gryffidor was Harry Potter himself, the Boy — Who-Lived, a young rebel with a dangerous streak of arson in schools, and the Slytherin was Pat Random, who wasn't afraid of Professor Snape (which was the same thing as not being afraid of anything or anyone), and who had already taken fifty points off Slytherin in two weeks (for smoking, for using obscene language, for being out of the bedroom after lights out, for making noise in the library, something)… Pat and I had endless conversations, too. There were three of them.
The first is Potions. Then Pat always made a face and told me what he thought about the subject and the teacher. Immediately there was a transition to the second topic — Severus Snape. On the first day after the Transformation, we went to visit Lupin. Before Rem could say hello, Pat blurted out from the doorway,
" Tell me honestly, Rem, were there really no adequate good-looking guys in your class?"
"What do you mean?"
"About how I was born."
Remus paused, apparently unsure of what to say.
"Would you like some tea?"
"Go ahead," I said immediately. Lupin perked up and quickly made us each a cup of tea.
Pat was frowning at Lupin.
"How was your first day at school?" Remus tried to ask nonchalantly.
"Lousy," my friend said immediately.
"We'll be taking extra Transfiguration classes," I added.
It was Pat's idea. The Transformations were really hard to catch up with, so Pat dragged me straight to McGonagall's after class and told me we could use some extra classes.
He didn't warn me, and I stood there blinking, knowing it was too late to back down. McGonagall paused and agreed. I wasn't sure, though, since Pat had confused her in class just now by asking her if there was any
practical meaning in turning hedgehogs into slippers. In my opinion, it made sense. Here you wake up in the morning, and around full of hedgehogs. But there are no slippers. That's when you remember Professor McGonagall's lessons…
"Is that why it's lousy?" Remus was still trying to smile.
"No," Pat said, still frowning, "just that the first lesson was Potions. You still haven't answered my question."
Remus sighed.
"Pat, your mother and I were prefects at the school, we talked a lot, and I knew her well. She was a wonderful person…"
I know that. And my father's a jerk, "Pat interrupted, adding with a strange satisfaction," and I always knew that!"
Remus rubbed his eyes tiredly and was silent for a moment.
"I can't tell you what happened between Snape and your mother, Pat." But I guess...
"Now only he can tell you this himself. All I know is that Michelle never disliked him.… Many. She never openly said that she liked him… Or something like that. But she always seemed to feel pity for him…"
"pity?" "I didn't know pity made babies," Pat said suddenly. "Even dementors would probably shy away from it in fear!"
Lupin chuckled.
"What, really shy away?!"
Pat asked.
"No, it's just that Sirius said the same thing once… But I wouldn't be so categorical…"
"You don't like him," Remus agreed, " but you don't dislike him either. It's a question of whether you trust Dumbledore's judgment.
I naturally trust Severus completely…"
"What does Dumbledore and his trust have to do with it?" I didn't understand.
Remus paused, realizing that he had said something unnecessary.
And Pat, who had made a quick mental calculation, asked a little too calmly, " What's the matter?":
"Was he a Death Eater?"
Wow, this is all very interesting. Lupin stared at the floor for a few seconds, then sighed and looked up at us.
"You must understand that Snape came to our side long before Lord Voldemort fell. He was a double agent, passing on information to us at great risk of his life…"
"He didn't risk much," Pat said grimly. He looked as grim as a cloud "that's all right now…"
"Understand what?" I asked. My friend gave me a wry smile.
"I can see why Aunt Meg made me swear by all the saints that I wouldn't touch dark magic."
And finally, the third topic — what is the difference between a lion and a snake? Or you can — how does a brave lion differ from a slippery snake? Or you can do it in another way-what is the difference between a noble snake and a stupid lion? I also learned about the moronic tradition of hostility between these two faculties on the first day of my studies (as you can see, it turned out to be extremely eventful). That same evening, in the common room of Gryffindor House, I tried to sort through a bunch of Transfiguration textbooks. Hermione was sitting next to him, enthusiastically flipping through a runic dictionary and writing out something from it. I tried, but it didn't work because everyone was staring at me. Well, not directly, of course, but I just felt in my spinal cord that everyone in the living room was trying to look at me once in a while, as if I was about to climb up on the table and do a jig. I've always hated being the center of attention.
"And when will it end?" I sighed to myself.
"what? Hermione looked up from her book.
"I say, when will everyone get tired of staring at me?"
She chuckled.
"Don't worry. Sooner or later, everyone will realize that you are no different from ordinary people."
"I hope it's early. Because I really am no different from ordinary people."
"Harry, you must understand that your name is a legend to everyone. It's written about you in The Latest History of Magic and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and every child knows about you. Despite the fact that no one saw you, you didn't go to Hogwarts — there were all sorts of rumors going around!
Even to the point where you're supposedly being taught magic by Dumbledore himself!
Also this article in the Prophet…" I looked at her ruefully.
"The reality is much more prosaic." Then I noticed two guys from my class, Dean and Seamus, walk into the living room. They were discussing something hotly and (for some reason, this didn't surprise me at all) came up to me.
"Listen, Harry," the Dean began, "is it true that … That you set the school on fire?"
Apparently, everyone was very interested in this question, because many people fell silent and listened.
"No, that's not true. It was an accident. And not a school at all, but only a chemistry class. And in general, it was quickly extinguished."
Hermione came out from behind her dictionary and looked at me in surprise.
"You set fire to the chemistry class?"
I inhaled and exhaled to calm myself. Apparently, I didn't explain it well.
"It's just that Pat and I decided to see if it was true that if you mix gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate, you get napalm"
"Really?" Hermione was surprised.
"It turned out to be," I said grimly.
"And what did they do to you for that?" Dean asked enthusiastically.
"I was suspended from school for two weeks and sent to a place for troubled kidss."
I remembered that for the past two weeks I had been locked in my room with a lousy meal once a day.
"And this Random — do you know him?"
Seamus asked.
"Yes, he's a friend of mine," I said, seeing nothing wrong with that.
The boys looked at each other and with a meaningful "mmm..." set off.
"Don't look at me like that," I said to Hermione, feeling her eyes on me.
"You shouldn't have said that. They'll be talking about it for another month," said Hermione thoughtfully.
"I told the truth," I muttered, starting to get angry, "and by the way, what's wrong with this Slytherin?" Hermione sighed and explained. I would say affordable. That Gryffindor and Slytherin are in a state of open combat out of principle, according to tradition. That Slytherin has the most arrogant and evil morons who despise Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. That there were a lot more dark wizards coming out of this house than from all the other houses combined. What...
""Hermione," I interrupted indignantly "you're a smart person, you should understand that the whole house can't be like this!"
She was pleased when I called her smart, but she said it was unfortunate nonetheless.
"Of course, theoretically, it can't be so. But you know, Harry, I haven't seen anything good from Slytherin in all my years at school."
"Our popularity in this place is breaking all records," my friend remarked and, looking around, took out a cigarette.
"Are you worried about the points?" I chuckled.
Pat snorted.
"Here's another one. These points are nonsense. I'm just sick of being yelled at.
"Random! What are you doing?" exclaimed Pat, in a perfect McGonagall impersonation, "You mean they let you smoke at home?" I say yes. And she didn't believe me, can you imagine?"
I flipped listlessly through the Transformation tutorial we'd had this afternoon and waved back at the Creevey brothers, who were looking at me like I was a deity.
"Aren't they tired of it yet?" I sighed.
"There you are!"
Hermione. So the Runes are over. I'm going to have lunch, and then I'm going to see the fearsome catwoman. Hermione gave Pat a disapproving look. The man's eyes flashed excitedly and he exhaled along with the smoke.
"Come on, punish me. Take my points off!"
Hermione snorted, but didn't say anything.
She already knew there was nothing I could do about Pat.
"There won't be any transfigurations," she said with a sour face, " and neither will your classes today.
"Why not?" We asked at the same time.
"You're asking me?" You'd better ask McGonagall, but I don't think she'll answer you.
"Want some?" Pat was generous with the cigarettes.
"You know I don't smoke!" Hermione said indignantly.
Pat shrugged.
"As you wish. Although I think that girls with cigarettes are very sexy."
"You have some interesting ideas about femininity," I drawled.
"What does femininity have to do with it? And anyway, who would talk! Sue was smoking like a steam train!"
Hermione and Pat became friends pretty quickly. There were several reasons for this.
First — she knew him from the very beginning as a friend of mine and met him before he got into the "plague" department.
Second, he was overjoyed at the sight of her cat with the creepy name Crookshanks (as for me, it looked like a huge red monster).
Third, Crookshanks was also delighted with Pat, and Hermione trusted her cat's opinion very much (according to rumors, it was he who first revealed Pettigrew). Last but not least, Pat also liked to spend time in the library, he had a higher level of intelligence than most, and Hermione, as I understood, was acutely aware of the lack of "intelligent"friends. She didn't have many friends at all. She was a prefect, she was respected, but… They didn't like her. Ginny Weasley — but they didn't talk much, she was a year younger. And probably Neville, who had feelings for her that were a mixture of sympathy and gratitude. As he explained to me once, for her constant help in Snape's lessons. Of course, she was a bit of a know-it-all, and (to be honest) often didn't mind showing it. It used to be annoying, but Hermione was basically a normal pretty girl.
I don't see any reason why she shouldn't have a bunch of friends.
"Hermione, can I ask you a question?" Pat asked, exhaling phlegmatically.
"You can," she said cautiously, as if expecting a trick.
"Tell me, as a girl, is Snape cute as a man?"
Hermione giggled nervously. I could barely keep myself from chuckling.
"I thought so," Pat said.
I noticed a girl approaching us. Judging by the colors — Slytherin. This means to Pat. Yes, he waved at her.
"This is Deirdre mclalen, in her fifth year."
The girl, oddly enough, shook our hands. Her handshake was firm and firm.
"I know you, you're Hermione Granger. Best in the sixth year."
Hermione looked embarrassed. Apparently I didn't expect any compliments from Slytherin. Although, it wasn't even a compliment — just a statement of facts. The girl looked like a fox. That's the first thing that came to my mind. Gray eyes, black hair slicked back in a ponytail. And he looks so determined and insistent. She reminded me of someone…
"Hey, are you related to the Blacks in the off-chance case?" I asked.
Deirdre turned to look at me and gave a little shrug.
"All pureblood families are related to each other," she said without any emotion." Again, just a statement of fact "with the Blacks, we are through the third knee or something like that."
"Snape wants you," she said to Pat.
"Why?" Hermione asked for some reason
"Apparently he wants to know how his lover is doing… A student," Pat said, matching his father's intonation perfectly.
They all laughed.
"Ok, I'll go," my friend said, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "And what does he want?"
"Just don't sign anything with blood," I said.
Pat grinned and left with Deirdre. The dinner bell rang.
"You study really hard," Hermione said to me on the way back to the castle.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Actually, I'm not a fan of studying. I just don't want to be told that "The Boy Who Lived" is dumbass. I've had enough of Snape.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Harry, how many times do I have to tell you — he treats everyone like this, not just you? You should have seen the way he bullied Neville."
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're wrong about that. He hates me. I can see it." It was true. Snape hated me so much. Whenever I appeared on the horizon, his face was a mask of disgust. And everyone tried to convince me that he treats everyone like that. I agree that he hates everyone around him (and this is mutual, I must say), but he singled me out. Lupin knew something, but didn't say anything. I haven't written to Sirius about Snape yet. Only Pat agreed — yes, Snape hates you.