If you think that Dumbledore came and we all together, including the manticore, discussed the current situation over a cup of tea, then you are deeply mistaken. Snape followed the headmaster, Lupine, insistently asking me to come to him tomorrow afternoon, remained with a sad manticore, and we, of course, were sent by bainki.
"Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione confessed as soon as Luna and I parted ways, "but I told Professor Lupin about the map."
"I figured it out," I replied, when my brain was feverishly working on the question "where and why did this creature come from here?" "Let's go faster, otherwise we'll catch a couple of punishments."
Hermione looked at me suspiciously.
"Harry, you don't understand. I told Professor Lupin about the Marauder's map."
"I got it right the first time," I muttered.
"Where did it take you? Date again?" The Fat Lady, whom we had just approached, narrowed her eyes cunningly.
"Yeah," I nodded with a sour smile.
At the moment, we looked least like a couple returning from a date - we were both disheveled and more like driven horses - Hermione from running up and down the floors, me from running from a manticore. In addition, we smelled of dung bombs, and there was an abrasion on my arm from nowhere. If we were on a date, then it clearly took place somewhere near the battlefield.
"Dilligraut," my friend said wearily.
"Well, well," the Fat Lady giggled.
Oh miracle! There was no one in the living room. Usually there will always be lovers to sit late by the fireplace. True, often I myself turn out to be this amateur.
"Harry…" Hermione began again, watching me take an old parchment out of my pocket, but I interrupted her.
"I understand. You mentioned the map. Please don't repeat this again."
"But I didn't say that you went into Filch's drawer on purpose," she said quickly, as if defensively, "I said that the parchment fell into your hands by accident, and we… Harry, why are you smiling?"
I knew that Hermione couldn't bear the thought that a respected teacher might have once been a member of a hooligan company with the provocative name of the Marauders, but I still couldn't help smiling.
"I don't think you surprised him much," I replied.
"He knew about the map without me?" Hermione frowned.
"Moony" I pointed at the parchment, "is the school nickname of our Professor Lupin. He is one of the creators of this map."
Hermione gasped and said, naturally, the first thing that came into her curly head.
"What an idiot I looked in front of him! I also thought that he was smiling so strangely... Well, he was smiling until he found out about Manticore… And the rest?"
I smiled again.
"Padfoot is Sirius. Prongs is my father. Wormtail is Pettigrew, but I don't want to talk about him now. That's why I told you that I'm returning my property. And since Rem owns it too, I bet he'll take it from me tomorrow. So let's take a closer look at what's what... while we were wandering around Dumbledore, Snape and Lupin were already in the headmaster's office. Eh! Now, if it were possible to eavesdrop with the help of a map" I dreamed.
They've already taken the Manticore somewhere. I wonder where? My gaze went to the dungeons. Pat, Malfoy and Deirdre were left in the Slytherin common room.
"Look," Hermione interrupted me from yet another batch of desires to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, "here a manticore appeared. And right here," she pointed with her finger, "is a secret passage. Apparently, someone launched a manticore at him."
I nodded and traced with my finger where and where this passage leads.
"Very close to the Forbidden Forest," I remarked.
The next morning at breakfast, I once again came to the conclusion that Professor Snape is a bastard. As about our "date" with Hermione - so everyone immediately knows everything. As about a manticore - no one has... Why was he so silent then? Pat was sitting at his faculty table, his head propped on his hand, picking at his plate with a spoon. He looked angry and tired. Jay, leaning over, said something to him, but he only languidly waved his hand. I don't know what Malfoy looked like, he was sitting with his back to me, but for some reason Parkinson suddenly slapped him in the face, jumped up from the table and ran away. I didn't manage to talk to my friend before Potions - Ginny and Ron caught me, and we had a long discussion about how to distribute Quidditch practice before the Christmas holidays. I don't know what prompted them to discuss this issue with me and right now, but I almost missed Potions.
"I listened to Malfoy's chatter until three in the morning yesterday," Pat greeted us with these words, simultaneously shaking the last cigarette out of the pack.
"And we stole the Marauder's Map yesterday and ran into a manticore," I told him.
"You won," he nodded his head, "the meeting with the manticore is much more interesting.
With these words, Pat leaned back against the gnarled tree and looked around.
"So this is where you dived for seaweed? Looks pretty creepy."
"You weren't here last night," I answered, and sat down on a fallen tree.
"It's much cozier here in the summer," Hermione remarked, wrapping her robes more tightly around herself, and sat down next to me.
"I have no doubt, only in the yard - November," I said, "will we continue to build out of ourselves true Englishmen and talk about the weather, or will we get down to business?"
Yes, only now we have time to discuss everything in a normal stop. Well, if anyone can call the shore of a frozen lake, where there are only ominous gnarled trees around, a normal place for communication. But surely no one will hear. In class, Pat and Malfoy looked like they'd both been at a friendly party late last night, where there was a lot of beer or something stronger. My friend was silent, and sluggishly prepared the potion, and in appearance he was in complete prostration. Malfoy looked unwell (I wish he looked healthy, who knows what Pat had put in there) and asked Snape four times to come out. Snape let him go, and on the fourth he suggested going to Madame Pompfrey. Pat obviously overdid something in the recipe. Or maybe he did it on purpose.
"No, I'm fine," said Malfoy, even slightly embarrassed, and left.
"Diarrhea is the disease of the century," I commented quietly, but for some reason everyone heard.
Snape deducted five points from me for that.
After the lesson, Pat looked at me apathetically and said: "Meet me by the lake after lunch, I can't see these stones anymore" and went to Spells.
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione frowned.
Yeah, I'm used to Pat, sprinkling witticisms about everything and everything.
"Identity crisis," I chuckled, "don't worry, it passes quickly for him."
Of course, after dinner, I did not immediately run to the lake, but went to Lupin. Hermione followed up with me, but I went to his office alone, still cherishing the tiny hope that I would persuade him to keep the map for myself. But when I entered the office and Rem looked me in the eye, I immediately realized that it was useless to try to persuade him. I sighed bitterly and handed him a worn piece of parchment.
"You know, Harry," Rem smiled softly, and a little sadly, "you still look remarkably like James. Only he could, at the right time, in the right place, remember the map Filch confiscated twice."
"We just need to listen more carefully to nostalgic adults," I remarked.
Rem took the card with respectful attention and with a smile, as if meeting an old acquaintance, smoothed out the corners.
"I would leave it to you. Truth. But in our turbulent times, it will be very useful to me myself. Did you notice anyone yesterday? Suspicious?"
"Besides the manticore?" I raised my eyebrows, "no, no one. By the way, where did you put it?"
"They put her in a safe cage," Rem answered, "yesterday you crushed her tail really well. As long as Hagrid has it, no one's going to get enough of it… The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is due to arrive today, and it's up to them to decide what to do with her."
And when Hermione and I were already walking down the corridor, she suddenly laughed and said:
"As soon as you and Pat showed up at Hogwarts, everything turned upside down."
Slytherin became friends with Gryffindor, some kind of conspiracy is woven at the school, Professor Snape turned out to be a former Death Eater, Professor Lupin turned out to be a Marauder... A couple more months and I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that McGonogall was rockin' at Woodstock when she was young, Dumbledore was plotting to take over the world, and Filch was a heartthrob and duellist.
"Filch - Casanova, it sounds," I laughed in response, "and where did you get that upside down? Maybe vice versa?
"Come on, master of the game, don't delay," I said, watching Pat phlegmatically exhale smoke, "amaze us with your news. I'm all in anticipation that you will now reveal to us the whole insidious plan of Barbarossa."
He looked at the smoldering cigarette in his hand for a long, thoughtful look, then at us, and suddenly said in a sharp tone:
"I'm a fool."
If Patrick Random confesses his own stupidity on his own, it always sounds strong.
"Did you accidentally drink the potion yourself and tell Malfoy all our secrets?" I said ironically. Hermione nudged me in the side with her elbow.
"I really am a fool," Pat sighed, ignoring my words, "like a complete idiot, I bought into Malfoy's self-satisfied face and began to think that he really knew something."
"What, from our whole idea there is no sense at all?" Said Hermione disappointedly.
I won't lie that I myself was not disappointed. I was hoping that at least some light would be shed on all these secrets.
"Didn't you get any useful information from Malfoy at all?" I asked. Pat grinned grimly and stamped his cigarette into the freezing ground.
"I could achieve the same result just by getting him drunk. Wouldn't have to spend so much time on the potion. The only useful fact... Harry, or can you guess what the name of the Malfoy house elf is?"
"Dobby," Hermione said affirmatively.
I cursed.
"There's already so much evidence against the Malfoys that I'll soon begin to believe in their innocence."
"It's going to be an amazing theory," Hermione laughed, "and everything around is happening only because someone decided to frame the esteemed Malfoy family."
"Papa Malfoy is really involved in all this," Pat said, looking sadly into an empty pack, "only his son knows nothing, is not enlightened, does not participate. It is only enough to say, with a meaningful air, "but my father..." Imagine" my friend grinned ominously "the whole school will know who Snape is to me, and I walk around with the same look and say "here is my father...". At these words, everyone starts to shy away from me..."
"And spit," I continued gloomily, "and deny it. And even occasionally sprinkle with holy water. What are you different?"
"I'm just tired," Pat breathed, picking at some frozen bump with his boot nose.
"Tomorrow is Saturday, sleep well," Hermione encouraged him.
"No, I can't sleep!" Pat objected to this, and looking at him, I really realized that everything that was happening had pressed my friend tightly.
In recent months, despite the nutritious Hogwarts diet, he had lost some weight, plus half the night without sleep. My friend's eyes were shining, as if he were in a fever.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to sleep in the dungeons?! Yes, even under the lake? I am claustrophobic! Every night I go to bed with the thought that there are tons of water above me!"
"I forgot," I chuckled, "you have no idea, Hermione, how difficult it is to drag him into the subway..."
"Also," continued Pat's outpourings, "Crabbe and Goyle snore so much that silencing spells don't help! Malfoy mumbles in his sleep and Nott sleepwalks! He sits in his sleep on the bed and sits like a mummy. I woke up one night and saw that I almost had a stroke"
I live in a zoo! I couldn't help it and giggled.
"I'm glad it cheered you up," my friend said gloomily, "so what's up with you and the manticore?"
We told. Pat listened, thought, and sighed.
"I'm sorry about the map," he drawled.
"But I think," said Hermione, "it's safe to say that the encounter with the manticore was not meant for Harry."
Pat looked at her questioningly.
"Look, what is the probability that Harry ends up in the dungeons late at night? There is almost never anyone in that wing."
"Maybe someone wants to compromise the director?" Pat shrugged. "Dangerous creature at school and all. And by the way, you were supposed to work out the punishment from Snape, not from Filch."
"Maybe the goal was for someone else to stumble upon the manticore?" I suggested. "Snape's private room is in this wing."
"Yeah," Pat agreed, then snorted, "wait. You don't want to say that someone wants to kill her?"
Hermione shuddered at the expression.
"And what?" I shrugged my shoulders. "You mean he has no enemiese? Death Eater, switched sides. I don't think Voldemort's loyal supporters should have liked that. Did he still have loyal supporters?"
"Yes. In Azkaban," Pat snapped, "who bothers Snape? Sitting at Hogwarts, tormenting... Sorry... teaching children. Who needed to clean it up? And in such an extravagant way? It's easier to hire a sniper. Or the good old proven way - poison."
",Snape will detect the poison" said Hermione confidently.
"He would probably have dealt with a manticore, too," Pat shrugged, "a rather strange method of killing.
"Maybe the one who sits in the Forbidden Forest has gone completely crazy?" I said.
"If you put everything together," Hermione began, "it turns out that Malfoy Sr. wants to kill Snape.
"I'm talking it is nonsense," Pat agreed.
"Your business," I was offended by my theory, "then give me another version."
"What happened at breakfast with Parkinson?" Hermione suddenly remembered.
"Ah," laughed Pat, "the effects of the potion. Malfoy casually called her a cow. Loving, probably."
So we ended up in a dead end. The idea that Draco Malfoy knew something about this whole mess and would have blabbed to Pat under the influence of the potion was not the best. Well, except for the fact that we now knew for sure that the notorious conspiracy and impending murder at Hogwarts was somehow connected to Mr. Lucius Malfoy. From this we can assume that with the rest of the former members of the SS flying detachment. Indeed, one could say that everything that is happening is the eve of the return of one well-known prodigal dark sorcerer. That's just my confidence that this is not the same, did not go away. Pat got into the habit of periodically asking me if I had changed my mind on the matter, but my answer remained the same. He, of course, asked why I was so sure of this, and as always I could not give him an intelligible answer. Although after I shoveled through a ton of literature about the strongest dark curses and other nonsense, I realized something. We are connected. Me and Voldemort. A deadly curse, which did not lead to the desired result, could not but set aside any consequences. There is some link between Voldemort and me, so I'm sure if he comes back, I'll feel it. And yet, time passed. Nothing strange happened at Hogwarts, no one tried to kill me, Snape also walked around alive and well (although if we talk about him, I think if they got to him, the school would go on horns with happiness. I'm responsible for Gryffindor).
A week after the article about my love affairs was published in the same magazine, a refutation was printed (Hermione said this, and Parvati told her, and Parvati - Lavender, or something like that). Like, Louise van der Heim is not dating anyone, she is not a Squib at all, and Harry Potter is just a good family friend (I saw Lou's parents twice in my life, and then only briefly). Lou wrote to us that her father, having learned about that article, was terribly angry and said that he would not allow the family name to be rinsed in various magazines, and arranged a dressing down at the publishing house. Fortunately, a rich person with connections, and he has every right to arrange havoc in publishing houses. Hermione, on the other hand, felt that this rebuttal further thickened the colors and gave rise to more gossip, and did not help shed light on the truth.
There were many lessons, homework - and even more; in training, Ginny drove us so hard that it was almost impossible to find the strength to get to the bedroom; I found a way to the kitchen of the elves, who were happy to feed to death anyone who looked; Hermione tried to get me to read History of Magic; Pat moved away from depressive thoughts into science, shone on Potions and kept encouraging Snape to try to prepare antidotes by hydrolysis. And all this, not counting our experiments in animagus. On which we just got burned. It took us almost a month to calculate the animagus form. Everything was so complicated and confusing that we counted five times, the results did not converge, and... In short, it was very long, difficult and tricky.
"I don't understand," Pat was indignant, "why the hell did we learn to grow all sorts of hosts, horns, and other headsets, if you still come to such calculations?"
"Ask him," I waved the book to him, "what is her name? Frederic Feral... hmm. Although he died two hundred years ago. You have two choices - hold a séance or spit on his grave.
"The séance... Go to Trelawny."
"No, thank you," I shuddered, "I met her once, so she immediately foretold me a mortal danger, a bunch of enemies and a short but very unhappy life. You haven't heard Hermione talking about her yet."
But still, our calculations have come to an end. And we succeeded ... well, what happened. We sat together in the Room of Requirement, which, by some strange subconscious wish of mine, had turned into some sort of Viking dream — bearskins on the floor, shields and swords on the walls, thick candles in heavy sconces. Maybe not a Viking, of course, but Pat called me a barbarian. We sat on opposite sides of a powerful oak table and silently looked at each other.
"Well, what have you got?" I broke silent
"And you?"
"I was the first to ask. I won't tell you until you tell me" I protested.
"What kind of childhood, Potter?" Exclaimed my friend, "is it really a jerboa?"
"If I am a jerboa, then you are a hummingbird!"
"Shit, hummingbird," Pat muttered to himself.
"So it's still a bird," I drawled.
"Well, what if it's a bird?" my friend exclaimed cockily, "what?.. "
"What are you doing here?" Said Hermione's suspicious voice from very close to us. Pat and I were so caught up in our stupid argument that we didn't even notice her walking into the room.
We automatically grabbed all our papers, Pat even grabbed a strange ashtray in the shape of a cow's skull.
"Homework," I said.
"Yeah," agreed my friend, "but how did you get in here?"
"You're nowhere to be found," Hermione replied, "and I thought, where else could you be?"
Pat scowled at me. I don't know what he thought - whether he regretted that he had told Hermione about this place, or that I thought of the Room badly today. However, there was nothing to hide here, everything was clear anyway. In the middle of the table, a pile of relevant literature huddled alone, and at the top of this pile was the same book with the self-explanatory title "Animagia, or the second essence of every wizard."
Pat and I watched in silence as Hermione picked up this very book and read the title. Oh, now it will fly into us, I read from the expression on her face. And I was right. For the next half hour, we could only silently listen to how irresponsible we are, and in general, just crazy, because we were going not only to break the law and thunder into Azkaban, but also put ourselves in serious danger... And, in short, we are just a couple of creepy types and our behavior does not climb into any gates at all.
Pat wanted to interrupt her monologue several times, but each time I built a pleading mine, and he was silent. Hermione had better speak now. That's when she breathes... When she finally stopped talking, Pat stood up and said gloomily:
"You do understand that we now have to slap you?" He said it in such a serious tone that even I believed it at first.
"Are you kidding me?" Hermione clarified.
"Of course I'm joking," Pat agreed, "but you won't betray us, will you? Not?"
"Anyway, we haven't turned into anyone yet," I added.
"You have turned into two blockheads who spit not only on school rules, but also on the law!" - our smartest friend proclaimed sternly, but added, "of course, I won't betray. Even though you're still crazy! Why You Need It? You can easily finish school, register with the ministry..."
"And after that, Sirius will no longer respect me," I laughed.
For some reason, it was from the lips of Hermione that the idea of legally turning into an animagus with such long bureaucratic delays seemed very correct, but at the same time so stupid.
"Hermione, this is so interesting," Pat enthused.
"Yes, Pat has learned to grow his own gorgeous wool. Now it will never freeze in winter," I recalled Pat's eternal complaints about the cold of the dungeons.
"We just finished calculating our animagus form," Pat boasted, "do you want us to calculate it for you too?"
Hermione pulled up a gloomy chair for herself, sat down and looked at the books with some interest.
"And who did you get?"
We fell silent and looked at each other again. I don't know why, but there was no way I could say it first. I mean, there didn't seem to be anything scary or funny in my uniform, an animal like an animal.
"Nu that you as children?" Hermione rolled her eyes, "will you keep silent like two idiots?"
"Pat is kind of like a bird," I said.
"Yeah" he agreed, "guess it three times."
"Boys," Hermione sighed loudly.
"I don't know, I don't know," I drawled, "who is the smartest among us there? Crow?"
"You yourself are a crow!" Pat was outraged.
"Well, if not a crow, then, apparently, one of the hunters... Mmm… kite," I said affirmatively.
Pat smiled oddly.
"Look, you guessed it. Give me now. You're some kind of herbivore, definitely..."
Pat looked at me for a while, narrowing his eyes, and then he suddenly burst out laughing.
"Horse, yes? I guessed right?" He asked through laughter.
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