Pat has sunk into the water. I was already starting to seriously think about sending him an owl when I saw Deirdre, sweetly talking to Jay McNair.
"Hi" I greeted "have you, by any chance, seen Pat?"
They looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. Although Pat introduced me personally to them, they looked a little surprised. Without the mediation of my friend, Gryffindor and Slytherin spoke extremely rarely. I hope only for now.
"Has he disappeared?" Jay asked.
"Yes, I can't find him anywhere, but I really need to."
"Maybe he's in the library?" Deirdre asked in her usual calm, confident voice. Pat told me that she is extremely smart and ambitious and is aiming at Aurorat.
"No, not in the library," I sighed, "and you have no idea where he might be?"
"Anywhere," Jay shrugged. His voice was low and a little rude, he would have grown a beard - the spitting image of a robber. "but in any case he would appear in the common room. Sooner or later. Maybe I could tell him something?"
I shook my head.
"No, you can't just pass it on. As you will see, just say that I was looking for it. It's literally a matter of life and death."
"Even so?" Deirdre raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, be there."
Where did he fail? Something lately everyone has disappeared somewhere - the Saami has disappeared, Rem is almost never caught, even Dumbledore is almost never there. What the hell?
I didn't even know why it had struck me in my head to urgently tell Pat about the scene I had just seen. Maybe I felt that my friend was so dismissive of Snape, based precisely on a sense of moral superiority? On the fact that he knows something that is not known to the all-knowing Potions Master? Snape would find out sooner or later. And so, apparently, most of the teachers are in the course. And I'm even surprised that the reason for such a striking resemblance to his new student did not reach him before. The only thing that came to my mind was that it is precisely such perceptive people who very often do not want to notice the obvious truths that are right under their noses. His own son, as they say, flesh of flesh, was unusually similar to him, just as talented, intelligent and perceptive... Damn, what drew me to psychoanalysis? The main thing is to think - what will Snape do? Something told me that he was unlikely to run to look for Pata, find him, press him to his frail chest and cry with tears: "I have been looking for you for so long, son!". I imagined this scene in such a way that I almost crashed into the statue. It turned out to be a stone gargoyle. The gargoyle suddenly stirred and opened a revolving staircase. I was stunned. Is this an invitation? Although, no. I almost immediately heard the voice of a man coming down from there.
And that was ...
"…And it's getting darker, you can see it yourself," muttered Professor Snape ominously. It was too late and stupid to jerk and run away. This is not Snape's office. Who is he talking to? Ah, that's it with whom... I don't know why I was so surprised to see the headmaster of Hogwarts. I have not spoken closely with him since our memorable conversation in Aunt Mag's living room, and for me he was already listed in the category of celestials who are difficult to reach. And Snape? Did he run to tell Dumbledore everything?! I immediately made every effort to drown out my widespread sick imagination - Snape is Dumbledore's secret son and... In short, such a chain of illegitimate children turns out!
"What are you doing here, Potter?" somehow Snape said too nervously.
It can be seen that the first shock had already passed, but the consequences were evident. He still looked a little confused, but tried very hard to pull himself together and return to his everyday manner of communication.
"And I... this..." I could not find the right word, "I walked here, walked and..."
"came" the smiling director finished for me.
It seemed to me that he looked tired, although his piercing blue eyes scanned me carefully from under the half-moon glasses.
"Yes" I agreed with relief, referring to Dumbledore "that's how it was. I just didn't know you were here... Live.
"Can I give you a map, Potter?" Snape asked sarcastically, drilling his eyes at me. How alike they are. And so different ...
"It would be nice," I said a little insolently. "You know, in Muggle schools there is a plan on every floor. And here, too, it would not hurt."
Snape's eyes flashed already and I feel he was about to take more points from me (oh, how he liked to do it) for insolence or for something else, as Dumbledore burst out laughing.
"Merlin! This is the best deal in the last week!
The Hogwarts map is clearly missing. You know, one night I..."
I was very curious to know that the great Dumbledore was there "one night," but the gloomy Potions Master did not interrupt him very politely.
"I think you were in a hurry somewhere, Albus."
"Oh, well, yes," the director seemed to come to his senses, "you go, Severus, I will catch up with you. Just a word or two with Mr. Potter."
Snape made a displeased face and rolled away. Dumbledore chuckled into his beard and turned to me.
"I'm really in a hurry, Harry. Hopefully, we will have a more detailed discussion soon. Now I just want to ask - are you all right?"
I was already frightened only by the fact that Dumbledore wanted to "talk in detail" with me. If last time he told THIS about me, then I'm afraid to imagine what will happen next...
"Yes" I stretched uncertainly "everything is fine."
"Ah…" the headmaster seemed to hesitate for a second, "don't take my question out of place, Harry.lately Have you dreamed of anything strange lately?"
Miss Branning, dancing, half-naked, suddenly floated into my head.
"What do you mean by the word "strange", professor?" I muttered, blushing uncontrollably.
Dumbledore looked at me with a little too understanding and grinned into his beard. Apparently, today I am destined to play the role of his personal clown. But they say that he can read minds...
"I think the word "strange" means something that you cannot explain. Or something that scares you, for example."
"Ah… if so… nothing like that, sir."
Well, to hell with him, let him read. Well, he was never sixteen years old? It was, of course. True, for a long time...
"Doesn't the scar bother you?" - the director threw his gaze to my forehead.
"Scar?" I was surprised "no. The scar just doesn't bother me."
The director raised his gray eyebrows.
"Wow… I must say you gave me food for thought, Harry. It seems that things are moving forward..."
"Hopefully for the better?" I asked, having no idea what business he was talking about.
"O! Definitely the best."
What's worse than skipping a Potions class?
Of course. Be late for Potions class. I rushed through the passages of Hogwarts, cursing this damn castle along the way. Who came up with the idea of making a Gryffindor bedroom in the tower?! Well, what an idiot was knocked in the bad head by the Potions room to be placed in the deepest... In the dungeons, in short ?!
Believe it or not, I overslept. I slept through the rise, slept through breakfast and almost slept through the first lesson, I mean Potions. This has never happened to me before. But, as they say, everything happens for the first time in life... Yesterday, exhausted from my Quidditch practice, I read a book on poisons and antidotes until midnight in the common room. Not because I had to, but because I could not sleep. Then he turned around until half past one in the morning wondering where Pat had gone, what Snape would do with his fatherhood when Dumbledore returned and that he wanted to tell me what Sirius was doing now, what Lou was doing now, and how Aunt Mag got along with a Manhattan cat if she bites...
On this thought, I finally fell asleep, but I dreamed, of course, complete nonsense - Pata's cat periodically turned into Professor Snape and he, with an ominous look, asked me the Third Law of Golpalott, but I could not answer him, and for this he took a hundred from Gryffindor pounds (pounds, I was not mistaken, such a dream). Of course, no one woke me up, because no one else had Potions classes. When I jumped up, as if I had been shoved in the side, and saw only Neville in his pajamas in the room, admiring his new foreign cactus, I asked in a voice hoarse with horror:
"How much time?"
My heart made a dizzying somersault and fell down... When I knocked and entered the classroom, Snape was already talking about something.
"- O!" He exclaimed feignedly, showing yellowish teeth in a crooked grin and burning me with fierce hatred. "Mr. Potter deigned to attend Potions lesson. What, curiously, made him please our humble society with his appearance?"
We must go through this... We must go through this...
"Sorry, sir. May I go to my seat?" I said, trying not to look away.
"Ten points from your house for being late, Potter! And what is the reason, if not a secret?"
"I overslept," I blurted out, blushing uncontrollably. It will end sooner or later... will end...
"Apparently, you, Potter, need not only a map, but also an alarm clock...
"And you didn't remove points from me."
Pat. Here he is. Alive. Healthy. Unscathed. Sleepy freak. Well, I'll tell him everything later... Snape turned his head slowly, as if he thought he had misheard.
"What?.. "
"I just said that you didn't deduct points from me when I was late," Pat explained in his favorite cheeky manner (especially for daddy).
At that moment, I didn't regret not taking my eyes off the Potions Master. The hatred on his face was suddenly replaced by some kind of absent expression, as if saying - well, damn it, how did I do that?!
"Patrick, this is not about you," Snape said quietly.
Pat's face twitched (as always when called by his full name), and he declared:
"But this is unfair!"
The Ravenclaws, Ernie, Malfoy and Hermione stared at him in truly awe-inspiring horror.
"Is not…"
"Well, it's not fair!" Pat was completely insolent.
"Ten points from Slytherin!" Unable to bear it, Snape barked. "and hold your tongue, Mr. Random, so as not to earn more and punishment! And finally go to your place, Potter, stop hanging around the door!"
Pat, without fear, but with endless surprise, looked at his father. The same one seemed to immediately regret his outburst, and, casting another angry, distracted glance at Pata, said:
"As I said, today we are preparing a Blood-forming Potion. The recipe is on the board" he waved his wand "as some of you may know, this Potion is not prepared in one go, and..."
"Why were you looking for me?" Pat whispered to me.
"Later" I muttered, watching Malfoy immediately prick up his pale ears.
"Harry, I think you forgot to comb your hair," Hermione said almost sympathetically.
"No, they just always look like that," I assured her.
"Fell off a broomstick and landed on your head?" Malfoy asked sarcastically. I showed him a simple but surprisingly capacious one-finger combination.
"Actually, you still have the same vidocq" Pat decided to finish me off with a grin. His whole appearance indicated that he was very happy that he had managed to get Snape out and forced to remove points from his own faculty (which belonged to the category of impossible things).
"You better shut up, buddy," I said.
"Potter!" I shuddered "what does the Third Law of Golpalotta say?"
"According-to-the-third-Golpalott's-law-the-antidote-for-the-mixture-of-poisons-not-there-the-sum-of-antidotes-for-each-of-the-ingredients-and-there-is-something-more" I blurted out in one sentence, slowly falling into sediment. I started having prophetic dreams! And it doesn't matter that this question had nothing to do with the topic. Maybe Dumbledore meant it?
"Quoted word for word from Advanced Potion Making," Snape grimaced. "Well, get started…"
And we started. Pat, with extraordinary zeal, set about preparing the Hematopoietic Potion. I noticed that his textbook was full of written icons and symbols, incomprehensible to mere mortals. Yeah, which means catalyst... And there is a high temperature... Apparently Pat decided to get serious about crossing chemistry and potion making. Either from hunger, or from anger, nothing went well for me today. Although Snape, oddly enough, did not pay attention to this. After his breakdown at the beginning of the lesson, he somehow quieted down and silently circling the class with his eyes, throwing these strange, absently incomprehensible glances at Pat. Of course, it can be understood, because not every day a person has children. But I don't understand why he is surprised? Maybe they didn't explain to him in time that later certain actions sometimes turn out to be children? Or does he still think that the stork is bringing them?! Pat, however, did not notice anything, since he was again dabbling in something with his potion. At the end of the lesson, he poured too much powder from the crushed claws of the griffin and thereby completely ruined the potion.
"Zero points, Mr. Random" even somehow sadly said Snape when the lesson ended "in the next lesson you will have to start all over again."
"A negative result is also a result!" said my friend happily, and, throwing a bag over his shoulder, left the classroom.
"Where did you go yesterday?!" I asked Pat as soon as we left the class.
"O! I found THIS yesterday!" Pat exclaimed. He was in such a good mood that I was even ashamed to spoil him. Although on the other hand...
"Yesterday I walked down the eighth floor corridor and I thought if I could sit somewhere alone, and in the living room Malfoy again..."
"Snape knows," I interrupted.
"Knows what?" Pat did not understand.
Hermione was nearby.
Pat turned as pale as Snape had yesterday.
"No" my friend drawled "but... How?.. Who?!."
"Flitwick."
"And he is here from what side?" Pat was completely confused.
"Well, he didn't say that directly, but Snape understood.
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, looking from me to Pat and back.
"Believe me, there are things in the world that are better not to know" Pat muttered, reached for cigarettes, then cursed - he remembered that we were still in the castle.
"I think you've started smoking twice as much as you did before Hogwarts," I remarked.
Pat chuckled.
"Still would! I'll start drinking soon with such nervous overloads! That magic, then potions, then Malfoy, then pa..." my friend will swallow the end of the word "twilight, in a word. People are going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, are you going?"
Yes!" I agreed "and you, Hermione?"
She shrugged vaguely. Apparently, she was still trying to understand what Pat and I were just talking about.
"Yes" drawled my friend "it does not interfere with airing. Hermione, why can you only go to Hogsmeade on certain days?"
"Well, imagine if you can always leave the castle grounds. Everyone will start constantly walking back and forth, conjuring and it is not known how it will end. And so teachers go to Hogsmeade, look after..."
"Big Brother is always on the alert..." Pat dejectedly recited, and once again muttering "twilight" went to Chary. And I, imagining that I would have to starve for another whole lesson, no less sadly went to Herbology, hoping not to pounce on something more or less edible from Professor Sprout's reserves.