When shouts began to be heard throughout the hall, "Everyone stay in place! Police! ", When most of the girls began to squeal, and the guys began to frantically swear, when the rumbling music died out, uttering a sad sigh at the end, vividly reminding me of the chewed film, one thought flashed through my head - I foresaw it. One thing always interests me. Do the police really think that from their cries of "everyone stay in place" all those present
Will they really remain meekly sitting on sofas, waiting to be searched, interrogated, or even swept into the police station? Well, okay, I don't have cocaine stuffed into my pockets, they will detain me and let me go. I just felt ashamed in front of Hermione - the second time she gets into the station with me. Pat and Lou - they are experienced people, used to... Rosie reacted immediately. Throwing us a hasty "Follow me! Quickly!", rushed somewhere deep into the bar. I nudged the dazed Hermione. Pat grabbed Lou's hand. Apparently, for reasons not to lose her in a rushing crowd of people. Sue, exclaiming "Harry Potter and the police! I dreamed that the evening would end like this!", laughing as she walked, she quickly slipped after Rosie. Thanks to the long-established hectic lifestyle of the police, she was no longer intimidated. Rosie slammed the barely visible door behind us, cutting off the cries of law enforcement officers and the squeals of disgruntled visitors. We ended up in a small dark room. "I hope you don't have a heroin warehouse under the bar here?" Pat asked sarcastically.
"Even if so?" Rosie answered with a laugh, fiddling in the gloom against the opposite wall, "you'd better not know that, eh?"
"Really?" I chuckled, rubbing my sore scar.
It's good that no one sees me in the dark.
"Do I look like a drug dealer?" Rosie grinned, "but here they didn't share with some... Bastards! How many times are the cops set on us! They show up, turn everything upside down, scare the clientele... Then almost no one shows up here for a week... Let's go."
She unlocked the door leading into the narrow corridor. I wonder if everything is clean and legal in this place, why such suspicious measures for conspiratorial reeling from the bar? And, in general, what difference does it make to me?.. Hermione and I were the last to go. She kept mumbling under her breath something along the lines of "I don't like this at all, at all." I took her hand so she wouldn't be nervous. Or maybe to reassure myself - in my unfortunate head, terrible ideas about the experienced attack, and what followed it, did not cease to be born. Ideas were different, up to the appearance from behind the corner of the revived Voldemort, thirsting for the blood of the unfortunate Harry Potter. Sue walked in front and cheerfully told us all how a couple of weeks ago she was detained along with a guy she knew, and they spent all night in the company of the police officer on duty baiting obscene jokes. Yes, some people don't change... We emerged from this squiggly corridor into the backyard of the building that housed Mad Dog Roy in the basement. Rosie swore dirtyly, because there were also three law enforcement officers on duty here. Cool... But if I'm detained now, they will call the Dursleys - after all, according to official Muggle data, they are my guardians! Uncle Vernon will be delighted.
"Harry, I'm not going to curse the cops!" Hermione hissed in my ear.
"But then we'll be arrested," I remarked reasonably, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible.
We were noticed. It would be strange not to notice six people who fell out of the door.
"Okay," Lou sighed irritably, "I'll figure it out. Come on."
"Come again?" Pat grimaced.
We looked at him in bewilderment. I thought she wanted to bribe the cops.
"Come on, come on," repeated our Lu, and decisively waved her hair. And… the world suddenly brightened up. At this moment, there was no one more beautiful than Lou on this planet. Our always wild girlfriend seemed to light up in some incredible way. Have I not noticed before how beautiful she is? What amazing golden shade does her hair have? What a wonderful light shines in her eyes? What is her divine smile? What delightful melody does her voice sound like? What... So. Stop. I shook my head, driving away the confusion. Now I think I understand who Veela are... Lou stood in front of the law enforcement officers and, smiling sweetly, rubbed something into them. They listened to her like a mother, staring with stupid loving eyes and, apparently, forgot about our existence. Sue and Rosie looked at our friend with surprise, even admiration, and a knowing smirk froze on Hermione's face. Pat, mindlessly rubbing his cheek, looked angrily at everything that was happening. Apparently, he remembered how many times we got stuck in history because of Lou's attraction to all sorts of idiots.
"Veila…" he hissed in such a venomous tone that even Snape would have envied him. And his eyes usually became so prickly whenever Lou began to actively interest someone. But Pat does not admit in life that he is jealous of her with terrible force for all males. Except for me, probably. At least I hope so.
"...well, you will let us through, right?" Lou chirped, fluttering her eyelashes, "Really?"
And behind her back, she gestured to us to get out of here to hell.
"Yes, of course," the completely dumbfounded police officers nodded cheerfully, "come in, we don't mind at all.
"Maybe a number?.." murmured the youngest of them with last hope.
Lou spread her hands - speaking, do not even ask. The same one did not say a word against, only sadly looked after him, as if at a vanishing miracle. All three cops had such admiration written on their faces, as if they had just been present at the appearance of the Virgin Mary. When Lou caught up with us in the gateway, she looked guilty, irritated and tired.
Sue immediately attacked her with enthusiastic speeches:
"Lou! How did you do that?! I want that too! Teach!"
She grunted and rushed into some lengthy explanations, mixing psychology, the basics of hypnosis and even neuro-linguistic programming into one heap. I had no idea she knew those words! She would also have an aphrodisiac and perfume with pheromones. Or maybe she made it all up in advance to answer questions about her extraordinary vibes.
"And you shouldn't look at me like that," she whispered to Pat, who still continued to squint angrily at her.
"And how often do you wave your hair like that?" He asked in a suspiciously affectionate tone.
"If often, you would notice!" she answered angrily and with some resentment in her voice.
"Calm down, you," I hissed at them, "it's not here to figure it out... "
"Why are you wheezing?" Lou suddenly asked.
"He caught a cold," I muttered in response.
"You know, Harry, you used to be much more fun," Sue crept up behind me and, out of habit, nudged me with her elbow.
I started.
We never got to our native Kensington. Rosie persuaded us to go to her place. Rather, she proposed, and everyone else agreed. Even Hermione didn't mind, I was honestly surprised. I just have to agree.
Well, don't say to me - "oh, guys, they want to kill me here, it seems. Therefore, we better get out of here to Pat, and better to Sirius. And it's best to go to Hogwarts right away, it's certainly the safest there. " Rosie rented an apartment in a house right across the street.
In one single room, there was almost no furniture, except for a low sofa and an armchair in the corner, but luxurious curtains hung on the windows.
"From the previous owners," Rosie waved off my question of where they came from here.
After a couple of hours I went to the small kitchen. I left an interesting landscape - Pat and Lou quarreled about something, without moving to high tones. Probably my friend was trying to get a word with Lou so that she would never use her wavy ways again. Prior to that, he had long and persistently explained to Aunt Meg on the phone where and why he would be late. Due to the tense situation, Mrs. Random became terribly worried about our entire team. The telephone, by the way, stood in the hallway right on the floor... Hermione found an interlocutor in the person of the mistress of the house - they were animatedly discussing some questions known only to them. That was a really surreal picture - a decent straight-A student Hermione Granger and a punk-looking Rosie Miller are sitting on a rather shabby carpet, and, judging by the seriousness of their faces, they are talking about problems of no less than a global scale.
"Why are you so sour?" Sue did not let up, sitting down right on the table, "your relatives don't get you anymore. Are you living with your godfather now? Lou told me."
She took a cigarette out of her pocket and offered it to me. I climbed onto the table next to her and took a drag. The scar was still tingling - maybe it would at least get easier? It just doesn't look like tobacco...
"What is that, marijuana?" I looked suspiciously at my ex-girlfriend. Sue wrinkled her nose in disbelief, then pulled the cigarette out of my mouth and took a sip herself. Then she rolled her eyes in disgust.
"Facking freak! I knew something was up! She asked me to just smoke."
Then she laughed and nudged me again with her elbow:
"Well, honey, let's score a joint for two for former friendship?"
I smiled. And then, under the influence of surging feelings (or maybe grass), he said:
"Sue, I'm so screwed."
"Well," she drawled, "it doesn't surprise me. You are Harry Potter!
"What?" I was stunned. It seemed to me that now she would say - what, the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't it clear?..
"I mean, a master at getting into trouble."
"Nonsense," I snorted, "I never run into trouble.
And added after a couple of seconds:
"They are on me... Run up."
With Sue, as always, it was a pleasure to chat about anything.
She told me a couple of stories about our former class. I told her a little about my life - in the version that passed the strict censorship of the Status of Secrecy from one thousand six hundred some... Well, for example, how Pat and I went over and caught the eye of the "kindest" teacher at school. Or about the incredible rumor system. "Sue," I decided to ask a sacramental question, when the joint had long since ended, and we switched to beer, "why were you dating me?" She giggled, reached into my ear and whispered such obscenity to me that I can't even reproduce it. I choked on my beer.
"Thank you, of course, for such flattering characteristics," I cleared my throat, blushing uncontrollably (although you can't see it in the dark), "but seriously?"
"Yes, I'm serious!" Sue assured me, laughed, and then said, "To be honest, you are so normal, Harry."
I choked on my beer again. No matter how they called me - fatherless, a ragamuffin eating up honest decent relatives, a juvenile bandit, a weak-minded, vicious dystrophic (hello from Aunt Marge), an impenetrable idiot with one gyrus (and that one on his forehead), a narcissistic blockhead... But no one has ever called me normal, NORMAL in my life. "Thank you, Sue," I said with feeling. After another couple of hours of empty chatter and jokes on the verge of decency, my ex-girlfriend said that she had to go. To my logical question, where should she go at five in the morning, she only grinned enigmatically.
Well, why am I surprised? This is Sue Terrence. She could easily have things to do this early. Called a taxi. She kissed me goodbye and, touching my swollen lip, in a very serious tone asked me to take care of myself. I wished her a speedy hair growth. Entering the living room, I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms over my chest, for about ten minutes I was touched by the pastoral picture spread out before me. Hermione and Rosie slept on a squat sofa on opposite sides, and so symmetrically, as if by special agreement. Pat was sleeping on the same low chair in the corner, and Lou was burying her nose in his shoulder. Watching such a situation, I felt lonely, abandoned, and generally useless to anyone. Then he spat and went to drink his beer in splendid isolation, waiting for the dull English dawn to wake up our beloved capital.
London, I chuckled. Crazy house, not a city. * * *
When I woke up, I found myself on the sofa in the living room at Pat's house. For a couple of minutes, I diligently remembered why I am here. I remembered. In the morning we left Rosie's, filled up with the whole crowd to my friend, and dispersed in the corners to fill up. The girls took over the guest room, so I got the sofa in the living room. I dreamed about Voldemort himself. He, wrapped in a dark robe and covering his face with a hood, was sitting on the Larry King show. Lari in a very serious tone asked him if he was going to return. To which Voldemort for some reason chuckled stupidly in response. Finding my glasses on the floor and dangling my legs off the couch, I examined my sensations and realized with joy that the scar no longer bothered me. But with might and main, his throat hurt, and his jaw ached. No problem. For the beaten, they say, they give two unbeaten... The clock struck noon. I yawned and walked into the kitchen. Everything that happened last night seemed like a wild dream. At the table in the kitchen, I found Pat, intently making some notes in a thick notebook. The entire space in front of him was occupied by books, of which I only recognized "Advanced Potions" and "Organic Chemistry." My friend, completely immersed in work, did not notice me - he pulled out a large glossy scientific journal from under a pile of books, opened it to the right page and began to mark something right there. Ndaaaa... Pat went into his thoughts so far that he even forgot about the cigarette smoldering lonely in the ashtray... He turned the page, then pushed his potions book aside and began to compare something there, running his finger over his lips in deep thought. Pat has been doing this for as long as I can remember him. And Professor Snape appeared before me vividly - how many times I observed the same gesture from him during the six months of study at Hogwarts. Yes, what can you do. Inheritance is a terrible thing. Probably, I also have some gestures from my father. No wonder Snape is so skewed when I appear...
"Have you already scribbled for the Nobel Prize?" I asked Pat's backback.
He just jumped up.
"Completely crazy?" my friend was indignant, "why scare me like that? I thought you were going to sleep."
"As you can see, it's gone. And why did you set up the library here early in the morning?"
Pat raised his eyebrows meaningfully, cast a sad glance at the smoldering cigarette butt, and pulled out another cigarette.
"I've come to the conclusion that sodium sulfate and the root…"
"Everything. Understood," I interrupted him, shrugging it off, "I asked in vain. Such things in the morning after the party are beyond my capabilities. Where's Aunt Meg?"
I poured myself some tea and thought hard about the idea of taking a shower. And brush your teeth, yes... After yesterday, there was a nasty taste of beer mixed with marijuana in my mouth. And my clothes are rumpled - I slept without undressing. And the hair, of course, sticks out in all directions, as always. And beaten face. Oh, and I have a vision, probably...
"Visiting our neighbor. You know, she always comes to her to chat about this and that. And you really wheeze. Caught a cold instead of the Snitch?"
"Yeah," I replied, contemplating how to recount yesterday's incident.
While I was thinking, Pat again went for a walk in the scientific jungle, and Hermione came into the kitchen, wrapping herself in her white knitted sweater.
"G-good morning," she drawled, shivering awake.
"Where's Lou?" Pat looked up from his notes.
"Asleep," said Hermione shortly.
Pat sighed and began to pile up all his books - he apparently decided that no one would let him work in peace. Hermione, meanwhile, came up to me, poured herself some tea, took a sip, and then suddenly stared at my neck point-blank.
"Harry," she demanded, and not at all sleepy, "what are those marks on your neck?"
"Did Sue leave a few hickeys?" - Pat grinned impudently, not even looking in my direction and continuing to fold his textbooks, "in memory of past?"
"Not. It's just that some guy almost strangled me yesterday" I simply answered.
"Potter, you are idiot! You are completely crazy! On the tile, he fucking screwed up!.." Pat has been yelling at me for ten minutes now.
I actually expected Hermione to give me something like this (only in a censored form), but she, apparently, had not yet recovered from the shock after my story. But my friend decided to give me a puzzle.
"Why are you yelling like cats in mating season?" Lou poked her head into the kitchen, sleepily, "what happened?"
"Yeah, it's okay," I started.
"It's getting worse!" Pat typed.
"It's okay..."
"Potter almost got killed yesterday!"
"And Pat decided that all of Kensington should know it!"
"You're both nuts," Lou concluded languidly, "you should drink less. Hermione, at least explain to me what's wrong here..."
"Harry," Pat turned back to me, "I understand that everything was fine. Conspiracies, potions, archives... We played detectives, it was fun, I agree... But now everything is clear as God's day - they want to kill you! Kill! Do not trip, do not put cockroaches in the soup, do not curse, do not expel from school - kill, you know?"
"Imagine, I understand!" I answered irritably, "I even felt it very much, moreover, on my neck!" But that doesn't mean I have to rush towards Dumbledore in third gear! Pat almost growled and waved his arms.
"Why?!"
"Because!"
"Yes! Everything is true!" he exclaimed furiously, "they told me, but I didn't believe it! Here it is! Gryffindor stupid... stubbornness!" he drawled, looking at Hermione and my faces.
We shut up for a couple of minutes. Then everything went on the second circle.
"We must report the attack."
"No, they shouldn't."
"Name at least one reasonable reason."
"Because I said so" Pat's eyebrows shot up at such impudence on my part.
"Stop fighting," Hermione said.
"Come on," Lou advised her, "they never quarrel. Now Harry will say that Pat is a bore and makes an elephant out of a fly, Pat will tell him that he always climbs on the rampage and acts like a hero, and both will calm down. "Exactly! exclaimed Pat, "your damn heroism again, Potter! It will drive us all to the coffin someday!"
"I'm not being a hero!"
"Yes, you are ALWAYS a hero!" Pat almost shouted. "What you felt through the scar... …doesn't mean anything!"
"I caught Voldemort's emotions. And it was not a triumph and not the joy of victory! He is furious somewhere from loneliness and hopelessness, and is not preparing a solemn return to the world of the living!"
"Did you really feel that way?" Lou was amazed.
"Yes, believe me," I grunted darkly, and suddenly added, "he is also looking for something."
"Something?" Pat looked at me significantly, raising his eyebrows "or someone?"
"He's not looking for me!" I said, for some reason I was 100% sure of it.
"But what?"
"I don't know," I honestly admitted, "but something very important to him."
"Harry," Hermione began cautiously, "if it's that important, Dumbledore needs to know. He didn't just ask you about the scar.
"Of course" Pat welcomed the support from Hermione.
"Harry, they are right," Lou suddenly agreed with the majority opinion, "these are no longer jokes."
"And you Brute!" I bitterly quoted, since I sincerely hoped for Lou's support, "something you, girlfriend, didn't run to all authorities with the news that you were being watched."
"Don't compare," Lu shook her head unexpectedly seriously, "this only applies to me. And in your case, this applies to all of us, and by all, I mean the entire magical community. And I am a modest person, I don't have scars on my forehead and prophecies in my pockets. "I can swing with anyone who wants it," I suggested irritably.
"Don't be nervous, Harry, we just don't want to be killed," Pat said soothingly, "why don't you want to tell the headmaster about this? Why don't you like Dumbledore? Nice old man."
"Yeah," I grinned, "you weren't the one who got locked up with the Dursleys for fifteen years."
"But it was for your own safety!" Said Hermione.
"I think so, for my own safety, he can shove me into any hole he wants," I grunted darkly.
"What do you have here for debriefing?" Came a familiar voice from the door. Sirius, who returned early, and Aunt Meg. We all reacted instantly. I bet on my scar that they have never seen such wide smiles.
"Wow" Pat was surprised, "what is it?"
I silently fingered something light and silvery-gray in my hands. The sensations were strange - as if the material was woven from water.
"Father's invisibility cloak," I guessed.
"Sirius said that my father had an invisibility cloak," I explained, meeting Pat's blank look, "they hid under it when they climbed under the Whomping Willow."
Interest and disbelief were read in the eyes of my friend.
"Look, there's a note," he said.
"Your father left this for me to keep before he died. It's time to give it to you. Make good use of it. Merry Christmas!"
Pat stared at the narrow, hooked handwriting for a long time, and finally said in a smug voice:
"This is Dumbledore."
"Why do you think so?"
"Well, who else would your father be able to give the invisibility cloak to? Especially when Voldemort was after his family? Only Dumbledore... Besides, I saw his handwriting."
"Where?" I chuckled.
"On a letter addressed to Aunt Meg. What she is texting with old man about, I have no idea."
For the next half hour, everyone played around with the invisibility cloak. Starting, of course, with flying heads and other parts of the body, and ending with a surprise attack from behind the corner of the invisible man. It's just a pity, it was almost impossible to sneak up on Sirius or Remus unnoticed. But the godfather did indeed confirm that the director had the mantle. Lou won. She painted her nails with bright red polish - and, believe me, a hand with long scarlet nails stalking without a body is a really creepy sight. It was she who managed to get to Sirius - he was sitting in a chair when a pen from nowhere fell on his shoulder. I never thought a godfather at thirty-seven could bounce so fast. It was, as everyone guessed, Christmas. In my humble opinion, it was the best Christmas of my life, despite all the troubles that fell on me. Usually, on this occasion, the Dursleys managed to throw me a decent pig as a gift. To Sirius for a festive dinner, guests were crowded in the face of all three Tonks. Aunt Meg was not there - no matter how much they persuaded her, she decided to agree to the invitation of her husband's relatives and left for the vicinity of Dover. But Aunt Meg is also not a blunder - she managed to save another kitten, presenting it to Sirius as a Christmas present. What is Black without a black cat... The kitten found its own tutor - he looked at Hermione Crookshanks like a green sailor at Admiral Nelson. After the godfather's decision to put the house in order for the holiday, everyone found work.
When I was struggling to cope with the dust in one of the non-residential rooms, Pat trudged up to me and asked with a completely serious look:
"Well, what did you think about the prophecy, you are our chosen one?"
"Nothing," I muttered, "I decided to act according to the circumstances. First you need to sort out all this mess..."
"Are you talking about a conspiracy?" said Pat, uncomprehendingly, "or about this room?"
"And about that, and about another."
"It's better to call Hermione here," he said after thinking, "by the way, did the Weasleys seem to invite her?"
"Yeah" I agreed, looking around the room and rubbing my chin thoughtfully, "she turned away - supposedly, they have people there anyway - there is nowhere for an apple to fall, and other nonsense. Though I think it's because of Ron..."
"He is an idiot," Pat grinned, leaning against the door frame, "Hermione is the best thing that could happen to him in his life."
"In vain you are talking about him. He's basically nothing... And how do you know about these events?" I was surprised.
"Rumors, gossip, talk..." Pat flashed his eyes cheerfully, "but I see it doesn't upset you?"
"What are you talking about?" I didn't understand.
"About that, my artiodactyl friend, that this is only to your advantage!" My friend recited, smiling impudently.
I gasped with indignation when I realized what he was getting at.
"Yes, how... Yes, I... Yes, she is like a sister to me!"
"Well, well," Pat continued mockingly grinning, "something I don't hear firmness in his voice..."
And went out the door.
"As a sister, you understand?" I called after him.
"Harry, what are you yelling about?" Sirius peered into the room worriedly. I waved it off. Hogwarts gossip is not enough for me, so even my best friend will be bullied. Dinner was pretty fun. Sirius dressed up, and completely refusing to shave off the week-old stubble, he looked like a bored mafioso on vacation. The Tonks couple were nice people. Hermione and Ted Tonks spent much of their dinner discussing the possibility of changing the position of Muggle-born wizards. Andromeda, in my opinion, was a little arrogant, but it's forgivable, if you remember the godfather's stories about their family... Tonks herself in honor of the holiday became a curly blonde and shone with a great sense of humor. Rem, however, felt somewhat uncomfortable, and, it seems, did not know where to put his hands. And what, one wonders, can these adults teach us, if they sometimes behave no smarter than teenagers?
The most interesting question for Pat and me was - what will happen if Lou and Tonks sit at the same table? After all, both, as if under the influence of some kind of spell, were masters of turning over, overturning and breaking everything that comes into their hands. Therefore, we, as zealous naturalists, carefully followed their movements. And you know what? Nothing! None of them even turned the glass over!
"How clever I am today!" Tonks was surprised by this.
As soon as the Tonks disappeared into the fire, Lou smashed the carafe of water... * * *
This evening threatened to become one of those evenings when everyone gathers comfortably around the fireplace to pass the time with pleasant conversation, funny jokes and good wine from Sirius's storerooms. So, in principle, it was planned...
"Sirius, why aren't you getting married?" Lou asked suddenly.
I never thought Lupine could laugh so wickedly.
The godfather choked on his wine.
"What's gotten into you all?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat, "Molly lectures me on this subject, Meg…"
"Did you hear the moralizing lecture from Margaret Random?" - Pat raised his eyebrows in surprise, and saluted him with a cigarette, "welcome to our club. This is a rare luck, not everyone has such happiness in life."
The godfather laughed a barking laugh.
"Lou, what normal girl would marry me? Twelve years of Azkaban and a dubious present..."
"Marry a crazy woman," I suggested.
"Harry Potter tip of the day," Pat commented caustically.
Then the conversation for some reason turned to goblins, and then smoothly rolled over to house elves. At this point, Hermione took an active part and began to argue with Sirius, who, for one reason known to him, did not like elves. When the question arose as to whether the house elves wanted freedom, the godfather laughed and held up his thumb.
"Experiment!" he proclaimed, and, curling his lips into a smirk, barked into the void, "Kreacher!"
In the silence that followed, he impatiently tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, and, frowning, repeated in a menacing tone:
"Kreacher!"
Clap - and in the middle of the living room appeared, apparently, the same Kreacher, whom Sirius so stubbornly dosed. The fact that this is a house elf, I understood immediately. But this member of the Faerie was definitely very old and looked like an abandoned, dusty effigy. Dobby was prettier. Kreacher raised his globular eyes to his godfather and suddenly, with a wild squeal, jumped up to him and grabbed his pants. Judging by the stunned expression on Sirius's face, this was the last thing he expected.
"Master!" Kreacher screeched in despair. I noticed that he was shaking all over "Kreacher is to blame! Kreacher didn't follow orders!"
And immediately, unhooking from his godfather's trousers, he ran up to the fireplace, grabbed the poker and began to furiously beat himself on the head!
"Sirius, stop him!" Hermione screamed in horror, "he's going to kill himself!"
For a moment I thought Sirius didn't really care about that fact.
Kreacher was the first to grab Lupine, but the frail little house elf almost escaped when the godfather said clearly:
"Kreacher, calm down and stop punishing yourself. That's an order!"
He twitched, but still stood quietly, although he was still trembling. The girls looked at him with pity, Pat with laboratory interest.
"Tell me what happened?" Sirius asked tentatively.