"You know, Pat, I think I understand," I said thoughtfully, waving my fins in the air, which shimmered in beautiful shades of light blue. My friend stood in front of a large mirror and looked with interest at his face, which was thickly overgrown with black wool.
"And what do you understand, my pinniped friend?" he asked, busily smoothing it with his hand.
We were in Room of Requirement and were doing our semi-legal animagic experiments. After we studied the book "Animagia, or the second essence of every wizard", which said that, in principle, any sufficiently strong wizard can become an Animagus, we began to experiment. We were in the first stage - that is, the stage of gaining the possibility of transforming our body. And here is the result - instead of hands, I have fins like a fur seal, and Pat has a hairy muzzle. I wonder if we can't regain our former appearance now, how will we explain our exotic appearance, Madame Pompfrey?
"I thought for a long time," I said, watching the flippers slowly turn into my own palms (wow, what short-lived spells!), "About what Snape told me about my father.
"AND?"
"Do you think Snape was the same in his school years as he is now?"
Pat chuckled. The fur did not want to peel off his face.
"You mean a skinny sullen guy with unwashed hair and a love of dark magic? No doubt."
"Do you remember Rem once said that my father and Sirius were the most popular guys at Hogwarts?"
He nodded.
"Well, James Potter is a brave Gryffindor, the star of the local Quidditch, the main bully of the school... And Severus Snape is a dark Slytherin... You yourself defined it well. Do you have any idea what kind of relationship they were supposed to have?"
Pat glanced at me from his woolly wealth and smiled wryly.
"I bet they disliked each other at first sight!"
I nodded.
"And I thought of that too. And, can you imagine, after so many years I appear - all a copy of my father. And naturally he plays it out on me. Sounds adorable, tell me?"
Pat paused and I noticed that the coat was still peeling off. My friend's nose appeared first.
"Yes, you and I are just like the Montagues and the Capulets" he finally said, scratching the tip of his nose "ugh!" Pat spat out the hairs that got into his mouth.
"And I mean the same" I laughed.
In the Gryffindor common room, Ginny assembled a team with a preoccupied look. Quidditch was scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and everyone was on their nerves. Cheerful Ginny, never ceasing to joke, chased us as a good sergeant recruits. Katie Bell has already begun to assure the team that the former captain, Oliver Wood, must have cursed his position as team captain so that training would remain brutal even without him.
""I'm telling you," she assured, "last year Angelina behaved the same way!"
Ron felt the worst of all, and in training I realized the reason - the guy's nerves were to hell. I was also, of course, worried - the first game in my life, after all. But my excitement was no match.
"I have some bad news," Ginny began. "We're not going to play against Slytherin, but against Ravenclaw."
"Why?" Katie asked.
"Today Urquhart, well, the new captain of the Slytherin team, said that Malfoy is not able to play, because he, you see, is not well!"
"How!" exclaimed Ron "it is clear that they do not want to play in such conditions."
The fact was that for the second day in a row, pouring rain gushed. The weather and Quidditch experts said it would be like this for at least another week.
"And who should I play against now?" I asked.
"Cho Chang is from the seventh year," Ginny told me, "do you know her?"
I went over familiar faces in my mind and nodded.
"I can imagine."
"Just keep in mind, Harry, she loves to sit on her tail and just block another Trapper," our captain admonished me.
I made a scary face.
"Just curl an eyebrow, Ginny, and I'll kick her off the broom right there."
"That's not a bad tactic," she laughed.
Yeah, and when the outraged Harry Potter throws the entire enemy team with brooms, Gryffindor gets a complete and unconditional victory. I vividly presented this whole picture in faces. Some kind of Waterloo is turning around, but not Quidditch...
On Saturday morning I woke up early. I looked out the window - a delicate balance reigned in nature. Low gray clouds, but no rain yet. They were still asleep. I swung my legs out of bed and thought dejectedly that I was still very nervous. Trying to overcome my excitement, I did ten push-ups from the floor. It didn't get any easier.
Then I spat (literally, of course) and went to shower. My signature remedy is a very, very cold shower. For extreme sports, extreme measures. I call it "Cool your head and pull yourself together." Pat once called it "Crazy Potter Goes on the Warpath." I don't know who's crazy, but I immediately felt more cheerful. Interesting... After the ice lake you don't feel so... At breakfast, everyone saw fit to wish us luck. Ron grew greener with every wish and looked sadly at the food he hadn't touched.
"Ron, eat," I said, "otherwise you will be blown away."
"Yes, of course," Ron replied listlessly, not even thinking about what he had said.
Someone at the table chuckled, and Demelza, another Hunter on our team, showed that someone a fist. They stopped giggling, but laughed at the Slytherin table. I looked around to see who was giggling so terribly - it turned out to be Goyle. Malfoy was explaining something to his team that made everyone laugh. From Pat's team, only Deirdre and Mandy Redstoke were seated at the table. Deirdre glanced sideways in the direction of the Malfoy group and wagged a finger at her temple expressively. Whoever saw - laughed, although there were not so many students in the hall - everyone was slowly pulling into the stadium. Ginny and I got out first. Her fingers played a slightly nervous rhythm on the broom handle.
"Are you worried?"
She smiled.
"I am the captain, and this is my first game in this role. And if we lose today, everyone will remember that I was the captain this season."
She was silent for a few seconds.
"But actually, I'm a lot more worried about Ron."
"He plays well."
"Yes, of course," she agreed, "only I can't make the whole stadium turn away every time the Quaffle flies to the rings."
"You better worry about me" I smiled "this is my first game."
"You're playing great," Ginny praised me.
"I'll blush right now."
"But it's true."
"Harry! Harry!" I heard the utterly pleased voice of Pat "just look who I brought."
I didn't even have time to really make out Sirius, as they swooped down on me and hugged me. Someone's long blonde hair blocked my visibility.
"Lou… crazy… choke…" I croaked. She laughed and, kissing me on both cheeks, deigned to let go. No matter how much she poured in letters, how bad she was, she looked blooming. And, as always after a long separation, in the first minutes Lou seemed extraordinarily beautiful to me. But then, as usual, this slight obsession passed, and Lou became herself, that is, our dear extravagant girlfriend.
"What's the grip, huh?" Pat grinned "it seems to me that Lou is secretly engaged in kickboxing from us."
My friend was beaming. Lou swung at him, he pretended to defend himself. I suddenly had a feeling that nothing had changed, and we are now wandering somewhere in Hyde Park or the gardens of our native Kensington in search of something interesting. And all the rest I just dreamed...
Harry," Sirius smiled, "how are you? First game... worried?"
"No, I wouldn't say" I laughed "but... What are you doing here?"
"We came to cheer for you," Lou said. "Oh, hi, Ginny!"
"And how can you... come here like that?" I didn't believe. The godfather hesitated slightly.
"Well, I still need to see Dumbledore. I took your friend with me."
In the meantime, the rest of the team approached, staring in surprise at my guests.
"Well, are we going?" asked Jimmy Peaks "they will start playing without us."
"Come on, let's go," Ginny said, "Harry?"
"I am now..." Deirdre and a few other Slytherins walked by.
"We're rooting for you," she said casually.
Sirius looked her back in surprise.
"Pat, what did you do to Slytherin?" He asked my friend a little dumbfounded.
He smiled mysteriously.
"A politician has woken up in Pat" I answered for him "a serious symptom. I had never noticed such a thing with him before."
"This influence of Hogwarts" said Pat "I myself have not noticed this before.
"Pat, why don't you want to play Quidditch?" Lou asked. He laughed. It turned out a little nervous.
"I do not. If I want to commit suicide, I'd rather drink poison."
Quite Slytherin.
"Well, that's it" I said "I went. Ginny will make me an entrecote."
"Harry, I don't really care who wins today," Pat said half-seriously, "just come back alive, we still have work unfinished."
"What other business without me?" Lou was indignant.
"I will try" I answered and went to the locker rooms.
For some reason, Pat's words made a treacherous sting in the stomach...
The game started well. Rather, nothing abnormal happened in the first twenty minutes of the match. The Snitch was nowhere to be seen (I wonder if he even flies off to the damn grandmother, what then?) And I ran into circles around the stadium, enjoying the flight. Lou sat with Pat and watched the game with joyful excitement, occasionally tugging at his sleeve.
Pat, on the other hand, was sitting with a sour expression, and one got the feeling that he was nauseous from the flickering of the players. Hermione was in opposite stands, she sat next to Neville and even waved her hand to me. Sirius and Rem were also with Gryffindor. I noticed all this somehow with the edge of my consciousness - I didn't fly and stare at the stands, but I was looking for the Snitch. Ginny was right - Cho got hooked on my tail and, apparently, was going to block me as soon as I noticed the "object". Well, okay, if she wants to... I noticed the Snitch when Ravenclaw opened the score and I barely dodged the bludger. It flashed its inviting golden sheen somewhere above the Hufflepuff stands. Cho did not notice him, otherwise she would have rushed there - she was closer. Therefore, I decided to take a risky step - I waved my strength in a completely different direction. She naturally follows me. Apparently the audience had a lot of fun watching this scene. My ""Firebolt" did not let me down - I easily turned out of my own steep dive and rushed to the Snitch, but Zhou almost crashed into the teachers' rostrum. And I would have taken that damn golden ball if it hadn't been for another bludger that nearly twisted my jaw. I managed to dodge him, but the Snitch was already out of sight. The stands roared. We have scored the quaffle. The score became equal. After a couple of seconds, both Bludgers decided to grip me. I went down sharply and managed to see Demelza's magnificent goal in the Ravenclaw rings. For the next fifteen minutes, I did not notice the game too much, because I tried very hard to make sure that the Bludgers, which became more like homing missiles, did not finish me off. My flight became more like a ballet in the air. Either the Ravenclaw team had brilliant chops, or something was wrong herehere. . . After another five minutes it started to rain. After another five, both damned Bludgers again decided to take me in a vice, I went straight up and, making a loop in the air, rushed to the ground, where the Snitch loomed.
Then everything went like in slow motion. Before I could reach out, one of the Bludgers hit it. It seemed to me that I heard the bones breaking and the elbow joint crushing. But I didn't even have time to feel pain - the second with all its strength fell on the back of my head.
The world exploded with colored sparks, and I felt myself falling into the soft, welcoming darkness...
...I didn't want to leave this blessed darkness. But from a dull pain in the back of my head, I began to regain consciousness. For some reason, some obsessive thought that at the age of sixteen I have every right to leave home without the consent of the guardians was beating in my head. Then what am I doing at the Dursleys? Ah... I have nowhere to go. Maybe Aunt Mag will shelter me for a little while?.. There was a nasty sweet taste on the tongue. This concussion was my first clearly lucid thought. Some muffled voices could be heard around me. There was a tight bandage on his head. Blunt bolts were driven into the back of my head. I tried to open my eyes. I managed to do this. But there was no big sense, everything blurred - someone compassionate took off my glasses. Pat's face loomed over me. Nearby, Lou's fair-haired head immediately popped up.
"Are you alive?" Pat asked, "if dead - nod."
I was about to nod just for fun, but the back of my head burst with such pain that I groaned.
"What?" asked Lou, apparently thinking that I said something.
"Am I hit by a car?" I asked weakly.
Pat frowned, and he and Lou exchanged worried glances. He turned away and asked someone behind his back:
"Is he mad? Amnesia?"
"I hope not," they replied.
I recognized Sirius in that hoarse, troubled voice, and everything fell into place. Hogwarts. Match. A blow to the head. Oh, and attached me!
"Come on, help me to sit down," I demanded. My voice struck me as somehow disgustingly weak. Sirius tucked a couple of pillows under my back and under my head, and I found myself in a more or less seated position. Lou gave me my glasses. So… I am in Quidditch uniform, lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing, my head in bandages, my right arm firmly pressed to my torso in a bent position. The back of his head ached mercilessly, and now a disturbed elbow joined it.
"How are you?" asked the godfather.
"Sucks," I replied gruffly.
"Swears, then normal" said my friend with satisfaction.
"How did the game end?" I asked almost hopelessly.
"I have no idea," all three answered in unison. Sirius laughed.
"Never mind. You flew great, you twirled such a turn in the end - I have never seen such a thing."
"And I saw," Pat said, "on TV when the air show was on. From afar, you even looked like a fighter."
I touched the back of my head. Now I felt that all the bones were in place. But I'm afraid to imagine how much I would recover from such an injury if this happened to me before. Although, then I would not play Quidditch. Before that, I had been in a state close to critical once in my life (I do not take into account Voldemort's Avada Kedavra) - this was when at thirteen I was taken from school in an ambulance with an acute attack of appendicitis. Therefore, I have a scar not only on my forehead, but also on my stomach. The doctor then told me that a couple more hours - and I would have a cover. That would be the number - Harry Potter, the wizard, the Boy-Who-Lived, would have died of peritonitis. The door flew open and a wet Hermione rushed into the room.