"Hermione, can I borrow your silver knife?"
"Yes, of course," she murmured distractedly.
I tried to saw through a shriveled sopoforus pod to get some juice. There is nothing in it. Snape squints with a nasty grin. What on earth did I do to him? Maybe my father borrowed a thousand galleons from him... And he died.
And if it's like this?.. Wow! How much juice! There's enough for four people here… Friday's Potions were held as usual. Today we were preparing a Breath of Living Death (what's the name, eh?). Hermione was hard to see with her hair tangled in the steam from her cauldron. Malfoy spent the entire lesson teasing me until I promised to get him drunk on whatever I could do. He shut up, because Pat was also quick to offer to help in this case (and even without his bully friends, he's not so cool at all). Pat, suddenly without his usual distaste for the cauldron, was looking at his purple potion with a deeply thoughtful expression. This is how an artist looks at an almost finished painting with a view — something is clearly missing. Thoughtfully, without hurrying anywhere. As if he had at least twenty-four hours instead of fifteen minutes. I looked and quickly increased the fire. He stopped only when the flames began to lick the sides of the cauldron. Snape watched him with interest. And after a couple of minutes, Pat's potion took on exactly the same pale pink hue that was mentioned in the tutorial.
"How do you do that?" Hermione whispered with both admiration and envy. Pat gave her a mysterious smile and wink.
"Add a light, my friend."
"The textbook doesn't say that!" Hermione snorted.
My potion wasn't pale, but it was still pink, so I figured that would be enough.
"What makes you think we should increase the fire?" Hermione asked Pat on the way out of the dungeons. She was on the edge between indignation and admiration. It probably hadn't occurred to her that textbooks couldn't tell her the shortest path to what she was looking for.
"We used scarab shell powder," my friend said placidly. Where did that misanthrope who spent almost three weeks harassing me with criticism of everything and everything go? I only saw him so happy after particularly interesting chemistry lessons. interesting ones for Pat, of course.
"Well?" Hermione asked.
Pat looked at her and for the first time seemed to doubt her intellectual abilities.
"It's calcium," my friend said, "with some impurities, of course… Calcium will never completely dissolve at low temperature! This is chemistry."
Pat was happy. I haven't seen him so happy in ages, though.
"Aha! your theory that magic isn't magic," I said.
"what?" Hermione asked.
"Pat has a theory that magic isn't really magic. Yes?
"Well," my friend agreed with satisfaction, " and I've just found confirmation of that.
"What's that?" Hermione looked at Pat the same way she'd looked at Luna Lovegood, the eccentric Ravenclaw girl, when she'd argued for the existence of sweet-horned glassheads.
"The laws are the same. This means that science can prove all the magic that surrounds us. It is only a matter of time and the level of development of intelligence. By the way, wе have to go to Charms. See you.
"Does he often do this?" Hermione asked thoughtfully, looking after him.
"what? Ah... it was the experimental chemist who had woken up in him. It's going to take a long time."
We went to the greenhouses for Herbology, where most of my tribesmen were already waiting. The wind blew cold against their collars, and everyone shivered.
"Pat likes chemistry so much?"
"Loves you?" I grinned, - "chemistry is the main passion in his life Three years ago, the chemist's wife strongly advised him to go to university."
"And you?" Hermione asked with interest as we started working on the poison probe. Ron Weasley joined us.
"What?" as I stared at the plant with its yellow-acid spots and wondered which side to expect trouble from, I forgot what we were talking about.
"Do you like chemistry too? It's just that you're working so hard on Potions."
What I didn't like about Hermione was her love of pulling out details that I didn't think she needed at all. It was sometimes like a examination. At such times, in order not to lose her friendship, it is better to answer everything carefully to her.
Then she'll leave it alone.
"I don't like chemistry. Or rather, I don't understand. Science is not mine. I am a man of action and have always loved applied directions. Pat has always dreamed of becoming a scientist. I don't like potions too much, even though they are a hundred times lighter than chemistry. Here at least you don't need to build these terrible chains of transformations and in a minute check with the periodic table or with some other nonsense."
"Did you advise anything?" continued to pry Hermione.
"They advised me to go to the police," I said gloomily. "Pat loves to remember it."
"Are those Muggle Aurors with coal weapons? Cool!" admired Ron. He did not hesitate to listen to our conversation.
"Firearms," I corrected him.
"Who advised you?" Hermione didn't want to listen to the lesson.
"The Inspector at Camp Hampton," I replied sadly, "said I had the ability. Of course, if I no longer plunge into stupid stories."
"Something you are not very happy about it."
"You see, Hermione, it's only in films that detective stories are so cool. I personally think that the police are only assholes."
"And I think that you are wrong. My uncle is in the police and he's not a jerk" Hermione said slightly offended.
I shrugged. If my uncle was a cop, I would have immigrated from the country.
"And what is Camp Hampton? He's been mentioned so many times" Hermione asked, wrapping herself in her robes.
We walked to the Quidditch pitch to watch the selection for the Gryffindor team. It was Hermione who dragged me here, I was personally going to go to the library. It was disgusting on the street, she knew less than superficially in Quidditch - what the hell did she want? Ron walked sadly beside us. He carried a broom with him and looked very unhappy. As I heard, last year he played for Koltsevoy, and either he played badly, or there were some other problems... His whole appearance said that he was not too hopeful of getting into the team this year. Ron and Hermione's relationship often reminded me of Pat and Lou's. They also quarreled and quarreled according to tradition since the three of us were in the same class of high school. But there was a big difference: Lou had the unique ability to forget about the quarrel five minutes after it, and Pat always perceived this as an inevitability in his relationship with Lou and never took their swearing seriously. Anyway, I have long suspected that they just like it. And, of course, during the protracted disassembly, I always had the exclusive right to tell them both to shut up and remind us that we are, in fact, in the same boat. Ron and Hermione were more difficult. They were both terribly touchy, stubborn and did not want to admit they were wrong. Therefore, their relationship was cyclical - irreconcilable hostility was periodically replaced by normal coexistence. Like now, for example.
"Camp Hampton is a summer discipline camp for difficult teenagers with criminal inclinations. We were sent there after the "experiments" in the chemistry class. Don't make such a compassionate face, it's not as scary as it sounds," I chuckled, remembering the fun days in the Hamptons and all those we met there.
"In what sense?" Hermione did not understand.
"In such. Let's just say - there was a summer camp, difficult teenagers and criminal inclinations - above the roof, but they let us down with discipline. Except for the days when an inspector from the police came and conducted individually intelligible conversations with each of us... the rest of the time there was a complete mess going on and everyone was having a full blast. I must have met half of London's homeless people."
Ron even came out of his sadly upset state.
"A crowd of guys with criminal manners in one place?" he whistled "I'm even afraid to imagine what was going on there."
"Well, why only guys?" I chuckled.
"But I thought..." Hermione looked at me in amazement "Oh! I imagine some girls were. Certainly not from the Institute of Noble Maidens."
"And your friend was there too?" Ron asked.
"Well, yes, I told you..."
"Oh, Ron just don't start!" Hermione was iindignan "Pat is a normal guy and many in his faculty are also very good!"
"Hermione, but this is a SLIZERIN!" Ron turned to her as if he wanted to reason with her. Apparently, he wanted to reason with me too, since he started such a conversation in my presence. Hermione said something to him, but I didn't even listen to them. I'm tired of explaining to everyone that Pat is my friend, that I've known him for five years, that he doesn't care about the bloodline of wizards, and that in the end I would trust him with my life. The attitude towards him was extremely controversial in Gryffindor. Some really believed that his appearance was something new, most found his behavior alarming and strange, and some, like Seamus, generally believed that a familiar evil (I mean Malfoy) was better than an unfamiliar and obscure... In the end, I flared up and said that I didn't care that some tattered hat had sent Pat to Slytherin, and not too politely noted that if at least someone else starts chasing my friend, then I will no longer be so diplomatic. There were no more such conversations with me. Indeed, on the other hand, the attitude towards me was extremely contradictory...
"And it's warm in the library now..." I said thoughtfully and aloud.
"What?" Hermione asked, distracted from the argument.
"Hermione, do you know any way to magically copy texts?" She thought for a moment.
"I know." And then she came to her senses. "But if this is for essays, then the teachers right away..."
"It's not for writing," I assured her.
What do you do in the library so often?" Ron was extremely surprised "you stick out there more than Hermione!"
This was the last straw. Hermione snorted, gave him a scathing look, and retired to the stands without even wishing him luck. The bright streak of their relationship has clearly come to an end. "You shouldn't be so with her," I remarked to Ron, wished him luck, and trudged off after Hermione. A sufficient number of spectators gathered. Half were staring not at the selection, but at me. Just lovely!
"What is Pat doing?" Hermione asked, making it clear with all her might that she didn't want to talk about the quarrel that had taken place.
"Serving a sentence with Flitwick."
Hermione's eyebrows went up in surprise.
"Pat cast Laughs on Malfoy yesterday on Charms."
She chuckled.
"But this is not hex."
"You shouldn't laugh. Laughter is a great weapon. Malfoy whinnied incessantly for twenty minutes and was drunk with a sedative potion from Madam Pompfrey."
"Well, yes" Hermione laughed. "Malfoy always looks so sour, it obviously won't hurt him a little."
"So Pat answered the question why he did it.
Although, I do not think that the punishment will be terrible. I personally heard Flitwick convincing McGonogall this morning that no one else has performed this spell better."
The fact is that Professor Flitwick, the diminutive teacher of Charms, doted on Path. Michelle Preston was rightfully considered one of the best graduates of his faculty, and Flitwick did not miss the opportunity to notice that Pat had completely inherited his mother's talent and Pat's place was definitely in Ravenclaw. He also used to praise me, but he did not invite me to the faculty. At that time, the selection began on the field. I heard from conversations that Ginny will have to recruit most of the team. I didn't envy her. Those who wanted to play Quidditch were chased away at least with a stick.
"Has Ginny been playing for a long time?"
"Fourth year," Hermione replied, "plays for the Seeker, but actually she wants to play for the Chaser."
"Aren't you playing?"
Hermione grimaced.
"Actually, I don't feel very confident on a broomstick."
"The witch is not on friendly terms with the broom" I joked not very well
Hermione just snorted disapprovingly. I looked at the field. The selection of the Ringworms began, which Ginny decided to deal with first. Ron played well in my opinion.
It can be seen, however, it was not very good for us, we were sitting right behind his back. But he hit all five goals and looked very pleased now.
It was McLaggen's turn. First ball... second... third ... The fourth... But after the fifth, which Ginny herself filed, he rushed directly in the opposite direction. It looked pretty funny. I turned to Hermione just to notice that she was hastily stuffing something into the inner pocket of her robes. It seems like a wand.
"What are you doing?" I stared at her suspiciously.
Or just did it?
"I AM?" Hermione showed me the ability to make innocent eyes. "nothing."
"Exactly?" I asked in an even more suspicious tone.
"What are you, Harry!" made even more innocent eyes Hermione. "look what is happening there on the field?"
It was clearly a red herring, and I decided not to pry. If she wants to cast a spell on McLaggen, it's her business. It was pretty funny, though. On the field, some sort of showdown really began with the participation of Ginny, McLaggen and Ron. Hermione, apparently with the rights of the headman, decided to go and figure it out.
She took me with her. The showdown was arranged by McLaggen, apparently dissatisfied with the selection results. After he had enough of both Weasleys, he puffed off the field. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and Ron beamed as if he had just won the greatest battle in human history.
"Harry, would you like to try it?" to celebrate, he offered me. Before I even had time to argue, Hermione said:
"Right, Harry. You said that your father played the Trapper at one time."
"So what?" I was amazed. "it's not a blood type to be inherited."
"Come on. What if you do better than me?" Ginny said hopefully.
Apparently, she really wanted to play for the Chaser.
"My eyesight is bad. Yes, and I have never sat on a broomstick in my life" I still tried to object. "although no, I was. I was one year old, and according to legend, I broke a vase and almost killed the cat."
I was persuaded. Rather, they literally forced me to. I, tired of resisting the opinion of the majority, said "okay" and with the feeling that I would disgrace myself in front of a bunch of people, I climbed on a broomstick. And, lo and behold! Believe it or not, I flew. And so it flew well - I liked it. Apparently, everyone else too. So I got into the team.
Passed the selection. Then Ginny did a test run to break up, I caught the Snitch several times, and the whole team was in awe. Flying and catching a golden ball with wings was not a problem for me, and I even felt somehow uncomfortable. I haven't played team games before. Only local "stars" played on the school football team, and when the coach was selected for the rugby team, as soon as the coach saw Pat and me, he yelled that he didn't need dystrophies on the field and sent us to hell. However, when we saw the size of the guys playing there, we suddenly got sick of playing on the same field with them. All this kotovasia lasted until evening, the library was covered with a copper basin, and I was tired as a dog. As we were leaving the field, I noticed Pat, standing with a thoughtful look near the stands. The light of a cigarette flickered in the darkness. When I and the completely frozen Hermione approached him, he asked me with a distant look:
"Are you going to play Quidditch now?"
"Yeah" I agreed. "like that."
"I've seen a lot of extreme games..." Pat stretched thoughtfully. "do not think that I doubt your abilities, buddy, but I want to ask.
So, for your reference. Which coffin do you prefer?"
I thought for a second.
"Simple. No bells and whistles. But tasteful. And bury without glasses. I look prettier without them."
"I'll remember" my friend nodded gravely. "what about the funeral?"
"A funeral? Let Lou wear a veil, black to her face. No funeral march. Drop a postcard to the Dursleys, let people rejoice. Well, on the tombstone there is an inscription - "he knew that this was the end of everything."
Hermione looked dumbfounded from one to the other and finally exclaimed:
"Well, you have some jokes!"
"The usual flat jokes," I remarked.
"Fine, I think," Pat shrugged.
As we walked towards the castle in the dusk, I asked Pat:
"Do you want to play yourself?"
"Well, no" drawled my friend. "I, friend, love to live. And don't worry - I, if anything, I will upload such a gorgeous commemoration..."
I will not describe how excited Sirius was when I wrote to him about Quidditch and what a cool broomstick he sent me to (which the whole house was delighted with).
I will not convey all of Lou's outpourings in another letter or describe hours in the library or efforts in additional classes on Transformations. Although it's funny to note that our madcap's gift became wildly popular, and Pat and I made fountain pens fashion. But all this is not as interesting as what I became an unwitting witness after Charming a few days later. After the lesson, I paused to consult on one question about non-verbal spells. Having received the answer, I was about to leave, but then there was a nuisance. My bag caught on a nail, tore, and all the contents spilled out. "Harry, you have to be more careful," Flitwick chided me and was about to help, but he was distracted by Professor Snape who rushed into the classroom. I wondered what he was going to say to Flitwick! I quietly muttered "Reparo" and began very, very slowly, returning my things to their place. But Snape noticed me, twisted a disgusting face, and said nothing interesting. And I think he was about to leave when he asked:
"By the way, did Mr. Random serve his sentence?"
"Yes, of course, back on Saturday. Didn't I say?" Flitwick squeaked, ecstatic at the mention of Pat as always, "and I have to say, Severus, that's not fair."
"Is the punishment unfair?" Snape asked without emotion.
"No, I'm talking about the faculty. I'm sure the Hat was wrong here. Such a talent, such a talent! Harry, do not think that I am belittling your achievements," he suddenly turned to me. "you both caught up with everything so quickly. But, by God, I haven't had such talented students for a long time. And, most importantly, with a research streak - all in Michelle!"
Snape blinked. It seemed that something had changed in his entire appearance.
"Yes, Pat has always loved science" I confirmed, confident that something will happen now.
"Michelle?" Snape asked quietly.
"Yes, Michelle," said Flitwick, "Michelle Preston, Patrick's mother. Severus, you must remember her, she studied with you on the same course."
Professor Snape turned deathly pale. Oh yeah! He remembered. Judging by the expression on his face, I still remember.
"She was such a talented girl," the professor continued to gush like a nightingale, "one of my best students, I must say..."
"Michelle Preston - Patrick Random's mother?" Snape asked even more quietly.
"Well, yes, I just said" said the tiny professor and looked at Snape so slyly that a suspicion crept into my head that who needs it, everyone already guessed what was what.
And the man, on whom, like a snow on his head, unexpected paternity was falling, turned pale even more and it seemed that in his mind he was quickly calculating something. I can argue, what…
"…It took five Death Eaters to kill her," Flitwick continued sad memories, "she gave a real fight. A terrible death, a terrible..."
Snape, apparently, made all the necessary calculations, understood what they mean, and turned pale to such an extent that he began to look like a ghost.
"It's really awful," he agreed with Flitwick, almost in a whisper. "I think I'll go."
I don't think the Potions Master ever came so close to a heart attack.
"Goodbye, Professor Flitwick," I said goodbye immediately and jumped out after Snape.
As I suspected, the Chief Potions Master didn't even notice me. I think he was not up to me now. It is worth remembering this moment - probably no one has ever seenHe stood for a couple of seconds in one place, then turned around, came to a fork and turned to the right. Severus Snape in such a confused state. After a couple of steps I changed my mind and went the other way.