"Interesting selection of literature," Pat remarked, tossing his bag next to me.
"Hope for the best," I said wisely, "and prepare for the worst."
I had two books in front of me - Unfulfilled Prophecies or Debunked Myth of the Inevitable and Protect Yourself. Modern defensive magic.
"You are in your repertoire."
Pat sat down next to me and laid out some textbooks on the table.
"Essay on Transformations?" I shook my head.
"Yeah."
The beautiful half of our company has made its way to us. Madam Pince looked at Lou with hostility - that's who did not love her, did not love her so much. And all because our crazy friend got into the habit of giggling at book titles. And sometimes over content. The librarian could not forgive such blasphemy.
"You saw?" said Hermione enthusiastically. "ads were posted in the common rooms. Apparition classes begin. It's great, right?"
"Why did you make such a face?" Lou raised her eyebrows, turning to Pat, "Now are you going to say that this isn't magic either?"
"Of course it's not magic, it's clear even to a fool," my friend said, not at all embarrassed, "scientists have been studying the phenomenon of teleportation for a long time. And Einstein theorized and carried out in practice instantaneous movement in time and space."
"Truth?" Hermione was surprised.
"Certainly. Only he burned all his records, because he realized that humanity was not yet ready for this."
"I think it was only about time," I remarked.
Pat waved his hand and solemnly took from his bag several large sheets of paper, folded in half. Surrounded by parchment scrolls, it was striking in its whiteness and clear printed letters.
"What is it?" Lou asked.
"Remember when I went to Cambridge?" Pat asked cheerfully.
His face betrayed that inspired scientific state that distinguished my friend from ordinary mortals, who are not able to build logical scientific theories from disparate facts. And I had the feeling that someday Pat would prove his theories. And then a real revolution awaits the magicians.
"There's a blood genetic laboratory there," Pat continued to preach, "and here's a detailed DNA analysis of my blood. That is, it does not matter that it is mine. The main thing is that it is the DNA of a pureblood wizard. Of course, I'm not a geneticist, but they wrote comments to me here. I took the relevant literature from home."
"So what?" Lou asked enthusiastically, "what are the results? Are we mutants?"
Pat chuckled mysteriously and shook his head.
"Well, don't pull," I lightly pushed him in the side, "you will now reveal to us the age-old secret, what is the difference between the blood of a wizard and a Muggle?"
"Yes," he said smiling, "do you know what the difference is? Nothing!"
We silently stared at the beaming Pat and blinked our eyes.
"You don't understand? No extra chromosome, no other fantastic nonsense. Just an atypical set of amino acids. No anomalies. No pathologies. Typical Homo Sapiens - what billions."
"Great," I agreed, "it still remains to explain to the wizards what DNA, chromosomes and amino acids are."
"What, Random, are you boasting again that you are a Muggle of Muggles?" Malfoy popped up from behind the shelves.
"Oh, Jesus!" Pat rolled his eyes in annoyance, "how did you finish me, Malfoy! Even in the library there is no rest from you! What did you forget here?"
"Sooner or later the time comes to learn to read," I remarked.
"And what are you doing here, Random, in the company of Gryffindors?" Malfoy ignored me, "maybe you will transfer? If not Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw. Flitwick is ready to carry you in his arms," he continued sarcastically, "maybe you won't root for us tomorrow?"
Pat cursed silently and looked up at him.
"Do you want me to shout to you from the stands - do not fall off the broom, dear?"
"Random, you're a disgrace to our house," Malfoy stated stony-faced.
"And you are the shame of all mankind," my friend did not remain in debt.
"And what is this nonsense?" Malfoy yanked the papers out of Pat's hand with a lucky move.
He quickly looked there, apparently in the hope of finding something amazingly personal-secret there. And there, of course, there was a complete Chinese letter for the uninitiated. However, when Malfoy turned his long face towards us, three wands were already staring at him. And Lou, flexing her wrists like a fighter before sparring, declared with chilling veins of bloodthirstiness:
"And now I'll beat him up without a wand!" "What kind of nonsense?" Malfoy tossed the papers on the table in disgust, squinting at our wands.
Although, after all, each of us knew that no one would arrange a pogrom in the library.
"Not for your brains," Hermione said proudly.
I always wonder where this girl gets such a cold, arrogant tone especially for Malfoy? Pat smoothed the sheets carefully.
"This is proof, Malfoy," he said almost affectionately, "that your vaunted pure blood is exactly the same as that of the last clochard from under the bridge."
Other students began to listen to the skirmish, slowly raising their heads from the notes. Many knew that Pat and Malfoy, to put it mildly, dislike each other, but usually their showdown did not go beyond the Slytherin dungeons. Now there were more than enough witnesses.
"Don't worry about my blood, Random," Malfoy shuddered, "better worry about yours. I, unlike you, know who my father is!"
He shouted it deliberately loudly so that everyone present could hear. He achieved his goal - for a couple of seconds there was an oppressive silence. Again, many knew that Pat's mother was a sorceress killed by Death Eaters, and that he did not have a father as such. My friend told me that Malfoy is sure that Pat is a half-breed and his dad was a Muggle unknown to the public. Not far from us, sticking his head out from behind a healthy tome was a familiar, shaggy Gryffindor boy - Ollie - McGonogall and Filch's headache. His enthusiastic expression betrayed him with giblets - he was looking forward to a fight in the library. And not only him - Hannah and Ernie, who were also nearby, froze with the same facial expressions - as if they had just realized that they were going directly into a tornado. Hermione reached out to Pat, apparently trying to keep him from what everyone expected of him. That is, that he will jump up and immediately punch Malfoy in the face. But no intervention was needed. Because my friend surprised everyone again. Pat, looking into Malfoy's face, laughed. No, not just laughed - he neighed wildly, saying "well, you're an idiot, Malfoy!". We were again excommunicated from the library for a week...
"Does anyone know who your father is?" Lou asked curiously, fiddling with the crystal ball.
It was nice to stretch my legs walking up to Hogsmeade, but the strong chilly wind brought back thoughts that it was better to stay in the castle. The gloomy, overcast sky foreshadowed a blizzard.
"Of course," Pat agreed, rubbing his cold hands, "Jay, Deirdre and Marty do it. Each of them individually approached me and asked if I was the son of our esteemed dean. Who just guesses about it, I do not know. But Malfoy is definitely not one of them. He doesn't have enough imagination."
This walk happened a couple of weeks after the match. Oh sport, what are you doing to people... Those who in the last match were ready to hate Cho just because she caught the Snitch, and I was knocked down by the Bludgers, yelled wildly from the stands - "come on, Chang, throw Malfoy down!". Ginny, along with the rest of the team, all buzzed my ears that I should watch Malfoy for the entire match and study his style of play. Honestly staring at him all the time, I concluded that he has no manner of playing. He did catch the Snitch, nearly knocking Cho off his broom, and Slytherin won, albeit by a small margin. Pat barely sat through the game - he was not going to come at all. As he later said, he came specifically to listen to how Jay McNair would swear. Then my friend told me that he, if not with tears in his eyes, watched Crabbe and Goyle in the air and kept saying that if he were the captain, he would have cut off their hands. When I left the field, Ginny caught up with me and asked:
"Well, how do you like Malfoy?"
"Not to my type," I said.
"I'm serious," she smiled.
"Those colorless eyes, whitish eyebrows... That's all, I'm serious, like Churchill" I stopped my ranting.
"Like who?" Ginny didn't understand.
"So it does not matter. In short, I'm new to Quidditch, but I haven't noticed any outstanding talents in Malfoy. You should know better, you've been playing against him for so many years."
"It's not technique he takes, it's impudence," Ginny agreed, "See him almost knock Chang off his broom?"
Lou and Hermione caught up with us.
Ginny, looking at them and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her robes, said:
"By the way, I don't advise you to take anything from the hands of Romilda Vane. This morning in the bathroom, I heard her and her girlfriends discussing how to pour your love potion. And, I'm afraid, it's from my funny brothers - which means it's of high quality."
Lou laughed.
"Harry, you're in great demand here!"
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
"I don't have much trouble! Why did I give up on her? Hermione," I looked at her, "you are the head girl. You must intervene."
"But, Harry," she said, confused, "I can't search and seize her bedroom!"
"So you want me to follow Wayne with stupid love eyes?!"
"Of course not! Just take Ginny's advice," said Hermione reasonably, "stay away from her and don't take anything from her."
"Lou, why do you need another crystal ball?" Hermione asked. "You have one."
Lou turned to her with a very serious look and said:
"He rolled away."
"How?"
"I was descending from Divination," she began to explain, waving the ball dangerously in front of my nose, "but I tripped, and the ball fell out of my hands and rolled away. Of course, I looked for him, but he rolled somewhere or disappeared altogether, I don't know."
"Why do you even go to them?" Hermione was surprised.
"First, you need something to fill the time. And secondly, Trelawney made one real prophecy - what if she predicts something else?"
"God save us!" I said with feeling.
We laughed and Pat asked:
"Tell me honestly, Lou, do you see anything in this ball?"
"No! But I can do this!" Lou took the ball with both hands, seriously wrinkled her nose, and after a couple of seconds, the crystal facets sparkled with light.
"It served as a test for the presence of magic in a person in the Middle Ages," Hermione remarked contentedly.
"Great," Pat agreed, looking warily at the iridescent ball, "I hope it doesn't explode now?"
"I don't know," Lou chuckled, putting the ball into her bag, "but you can try."
"Not allowed. Experimentation, I think, was enough" Pat grumbled, looking at the sky, "don't you think it's better to get out to school before it's too late?"
Unfortunately, it was already too late. A sudden gust of wind - and the snow fell with terrible force. We hoped to have time to run to the castle, but no such luck. The elements were sold in earnest, and Hermione dragged us through the first door that came across...
"Where did you take us?" My friend squeezed out in a tragic whisper when he could look around.
"Pink nightmare…" I repeated to him, looking around with a haunted gaze.
It was a small cafe, as we later learned, owned by a certain Madame Puddifoot. It was very hot in the cramped room, and all surfaces were adorned with maniacal constancy with lace and bows. The cafe was definitely meant for dates. There were only couples here, most of them people they knew—Ron and Lavender, Ginny and Dean, Сho with some guy he didn't know. Needless to say, our company has attracted attention.
"Let's sit down," Hermione murmured, and the four of us squeezed into a small table.
"What can I bring you, my dears?" A plump woman with glossy black hair pulled up in a bun pushed her way towards us.
"Four coffees, please," Hermione said.
"And cakes," said Lou.
"If I invited a girl on a date, I would go better to the Hog's Head. Not so civilized, but original," I informed my friends. "Better to the Howling Shack," Pat giggled, unable to restrain himself, "complete tete-a-tete..."
When all four of us giggled, everyone in the hall began to look askance at us.
"Shet up," Hermione hissed, trying unsuccessfully to stop smiling as we were served coffee.
Lou gazed fondly at the plate of cakes, wondering which one to grab first.
"Who is this guy with Cho?" Lou whispered to Hermione.
"Cedric Diggory," she answered in such a whisper.
The three of us issued an understanding "mmm..." from a distance. About Cedric Diggory, the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, we have heard a lot. I was constantly told by someone what interesting events at Hogwarts I could catch if I arrived here on time. Sometimes I would have pictures in my head of the eternal "what if…", but when I thought about life without Lou and Pat, Sue and Camp Hampton, and many, many other characters and events in my life, I felt like - something very sad.
"Don't you think the blizzard is dying down?" Hermione asked hopefully, peering through the misted windowpane.
"No," answered my good friend, "she began to howl even more strongly. But don't worry, you're not the only one who feels uncomfortable here."
"Eat some cake," Lou advised.
"You know perfectly well that I don't like sweets," Pat grimaced, and held out a dreamy cigarette, "I would smoke a cigarette"
"You can't have a cigarette, only a cake," Lou stated sternly, and then stretched out in a sugary-sweet voice, fooling around, "come on, eat one, for your dad..."
"For my dad," Pat whinnied, "to drink whiskey, no soda, no ice and no nuts! If that's for mom... then okay, I'll eat one..."
My friend selflessly chewed on the smallest cake and grimaced. Then he glanced around the hall, and again it broke into laughter.
"It's like we're on a double date," Pat choked out, trying to bite his fist to keep from laughing.
"Who with whom?" I giggled.
"So clearly," Lou reported, "you are with Hermione, I am with Pat."
Pat raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"But look, honey, just because we're having a fake double date doesn't mean I'm here with you. Maybe I invited Hermione and Harry invited you?"
"Nonsense" Lou waved her hand, simultaneously brushing off the table of a nasty little cherub whom I managed to catch "the whole school knows that Harry is dating Hermione, why would he invite me?"
"We're not dating," Hermione tried to protest languidly.
She was ignored and I added with a grin:
"You know, buddy, there's another possibility. Hermione came with Lou, and I came with you!"
An explosion of laughter from our table again forced everyone present to pay attention to us, and frightened the timidly kissing couple of fifth-year students in the very corner. Apparently they thought they were laughing at them.
"What a scoundrel you are, Potter!" - Pat made an attempt to move away from me along with a chair "under the appearance of a shaggy bespectacled man is a sexual maniac! Hermione, don't go to his bedroom alone anymore" my friend dispersed.
"Do you often go to his bedroom?" Lou exclaimed in surprise.
"Maybe you shouldn't shout like that?" Hermione blushed.
"Yes, don't come alone," I nodded, "it's better with girs. The bigger, the better. There are five of us in the room!"
Hermione choked.
"Are you sure you have coffee in there?" My friend asked curiously, looking into my mug, "who would have thought that you have fantasies on the topic of group... Oh my God!"
It was his turn to choke on his coffee as Malfoy and Parkinson tumbled through the door, disheveled, red-cheeked and covered in snow. I don't know what exactly in their appearance seemed to us the most ridiculous, but we were simply rolled on the table with laughter. They tried to ignore us, put on an impregnably proud expression on their faces (which was damned difficult to do when they looked at them), and squeezed their way to the last free table. Madame Puddifoot smiled at them kindly, and gave us a not-so-friendly look. Still, her quiet establishment was beginning to turn into a farce. We distracted her visitors from their personal affairs, and some of them, forgetting about their dates, began to smile dangerously themselves.
"You know what?" I said, catching my breath, "to hell with her, with a blizzard. Let's break through, otherwise I will die here of laughter... Well, or the hostess will simply kill us!.."
"Do you want news, Harry?" Asked Pat curiously, clapping me on the shoulder, "you and I are relatives!"
"Yes?" I chuckled, "I think we are too much like our fathers to be brothers."
"You don't understand," my friend grinned, obviously arriving in a good mood, "remember Deirdre dropped that all pureblood families are related? So she gave me one book yesterday to see where the whole genealogy of any small purebred family with comments. It's a plague, friend! My great-grandfather was your grandmother's brother, can you imagine?"
"No," I answered honestly, "I don't."
"Turn on your brains, Potter," Pat advised, "it seems you haven't woken up yet. My aunt and mother are your second sisters. As did Sirius, by the way.
"Sirius is my second cousin?"
"A second cousin," Pat looked reproachfully at me, "and I have some kind of uncle. So Deirdre was not exaggerating, here half of Hogwarts is related to us to one degree or another. I spent the whole evening yesterday over this book, but I wanted to look through a reference book on chemistry."
"And what's there to have fun with?" I asked darkly.
"So Malfoy asked me the same question yesterday, too. And he really did not find any reason for fun, especially after I told him that he was some kind of brother to me."
I laughed despite my not being in the best mood.
"Laugh, laugh," Pat grimaced, "he's also your relative."
"Are you going to tell me that Snape is my uncle five years old, too?"
"By the way," my friend remarked, "I didn't find the name "Snape" there. Which brings up interesting thoughts about my daddy's origins... Why are you so gloomy?"
"Today is Valentine's Day," I reminded him.
Pat shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment and reasonably asked:
"What's that got to do with you?"
At that very moment, a ferocious-looking dwarf with stupid golden wings headed towards us. He, brandishing his harp menacingly, came towards me with the most belligerent expression on his face.
"Hey, you, Pott'r! You have a musical card!"
Exhausted, I covered my face with my hands. It was the third one this morning... It all started when Lou shamelessly woke me up. I dreamed of sleeping a little longer that day, because the first lesson for sixth-year students should be Runes. Lou crushed my plans to smithereens by appearing in an orange whirlwind (her pajamas are orange with a light yellow flower) in the morning in the boys' bedroom to congratulate me on your favorite holiday, while waking us all up. Neville fell off the bed, Ron frantically pulled the tangled blanket over himself, Seamus, not understanding what was happening, was desperately looking for something, apparently a wand, and Dean just sat up on the bed and silently stared at the early guest. Kissing my sleepy cheeks on the occasion of the holiday and saying something to me in a cheerful cheerful tone, she flew away. I wonder if it would fit into her crazy head to fall into the boys' dormitory in Slytherin? What she told me, I did not understand. I didn't even listen. After a couple of minutes of silence, Dean's voice, hoarse from sleep, said:
"What was it?"
"Alarm clock," I muttered. You know, I love Lou very much. She is very sweet, kind, crazy, spontaneous... However, sometimes it can be a little intrusive, and occasionally, as in such moments... I WANT TO KILL HER! I had such a wonderful dream, as if specially sent for Valentine's Day - a half-forgotten Miss Branning in a tight-fitting blouse (only with two buttons...)
was conducting an English literature lesson for me personally... It was absolutely impossible to fall asleep further (although Dean, for example, as he sat, fell on the bed with a log, and continued viewing dreams). Trying to find glasses on the bedside table, the hand dug into something... Turned out to be a bunch of hearts of all colors, sizes and aromas... Having finally pulled out my long-suffering glasses, I sat for a long time, staring at my bedside table in a hunted way, and feverishly tried to remember if there was a love potion that works through touch. Like a contact poison... I did not remember anything suitable, and therefore did not dare to touch anything. The first fool-screaming dwarf sang his ballad to me in the living room. By this time there were not many people there, but I give my hand to cut off, these cries were heard by the whole Gryffindor. Those present choked with laughter, I also tried to smile through my strength, wondering how many more girls decided to make fun of poor Harry Potter today... The second show was performed at breakfast. I almost choked on my oatmeal. The others almost choked too, only from laughter. The others almost choked too, only from laughter. Snape's sly, mocking smirk made him want to hang himself...
"Now it is clear!" Pat cackled when the dwarf finished yelling about "beautiful and passionate green eyes."
I remained silent and tried to take a deep breath. Pat was not at breakfast, he had not yet seen pseudo-singing misunderstandings, so his laughter was forgivable.
"Sorry," he panted, "it's not the first one, is it?"
I kept showing three fingers in the same gloomy silence. Yes, I've never been so popular before... I should probably be happy... But somehow not happy!
"I already saw these squalor today - they hand out valentines," my friend said, "but I didn't know that they also know how to sing.
"This is for the elite," I answered despondently, "it seems to me that everyone today decided to make fun of me. Immediately, a heart fluttered in front of me on its own and fell into my hands.
"Won't you open it?" Pat asked.
"Not. Suddenly there is a contact Amortentia?"
"This does not happen."
"Are you sure?"
"No," my friend answered after thinking for a bit, "did you get a lot of them too?"
I grinned grimly.
"Believe me, there will be enough to kindle a fireplace."
By dinnertime, I dreamed of breaking my leg and hiding in the Hospital Wing.
I even agreed to another Bludger hit on my head. Every time a gnome appeared in the field of view, I shuddered, although no one else sang to me. But there were a few other lucky ones... The school that day began to resemble a madhouse. Valentines were dragged by dwarfs, valentines were dragged by owls, valentines flew by themselves... Moreover, it made no difference whether the lesson was in progress or not. It's a good thing these terrible creatures didn't get to me in the dungeons - if the singing nightmare started yelling a message "full of love and fire" at me in front of Snape in his class, it would be a disaster... I didn't go to lunch. In my most despondent mood, I trudged to the Quidditch field, hoping that at least there I would be in relative peace. It was the worst Valentine's Day of my life... And it's only been half a day. To my surprise, despite the rather cold weather, I found Ginny Weasley in the lower stands, freezing alone and immersed in not the most cheerful thoughts. It was the worst Valentine's Day of my life... And it's only been half a day. To my surprise, despite the rather cold weather, I found Ginny Weasley in the lower stands, freezing alone and immersed in not the most cheerful thoughts.
"Hi," I said, sitting down next to me.
She flinched and looked at me in surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
"Apparently, the same as you," I said bleakly, "I, for example, escape from valentines and stupid gnomes."
Ginny smiled.
"It was Lockhart's invention."
"Whom?"
"Defense against the dark arts teacher Another one," she chuckled, "I was in my first year at the time. He was kicked out with a bang, but the tradition remained."
"A vile tradition," I remarked, "these dwarfs will bring anyone to a nervous breakdown."
"Oh, you're probably waiting for Dean?" It dawned on me after some silence.
Ginny looked at me with an inquisitive expression, and then waved her hand.
"Not. We quarreled."
"OOO… I'm sorry."
"Never mind…"
So we sat with her. At first they were silent together. Then we talked about some nonsense. I asked what they were doing with Hermione on that ill-fated day in the cafe where all my adventures began. It turned out that Hermione invited Ginny to visit, and they went to see the capital.
"I'm still ashamed that we stared at you like that," Ginny admitted, "but imagine Hermione coming up, her eyes like that, and she says: "you won't believe it, but there is Harry Potter!" And also your friend, loudly so, "Potter! Potter!"
"Yeah, I yelled at you," I laughed.
"I do remember. "Staring at strangers is indecent!"" She said, and then she turned and looked very intently into my eyes, "you turned out to be completely different from what I imagined you to be."
"Worse or better?"
"Better," she answered confidently, and did something I didn't expect from her at all.
She kissed me. I won't lie that she's a bad kisser, and that I didn't like it at all. It was very nice, and I had long suspected that Ginny liked me, but...
"Damn, it feels like kissing my sister," I said as she pulled away from my lips.
"Yeah, not quite what I imagined," she muttered, her face a mixture of embarrassment and resentment.
"Maybe we should try again?" She looked at me, narrowing her eyes.
"Go ahead," I waved my hand.
The second kiss was even shorter than the first.
"No, not at all," Ginny said confidently, and, looking at me, hastily added, "no, don't think about it, it's not about you, it's just… In a dream everything was different!" She finished indignantly.
"In what dream?" I didn't understand.
"Yes," said Ginny, "I had a couple of dreams… Never mind…
Then she sighed and said with some relief:
"I'm going to go make up with Dean."
"Great idea," I said.
She got up and was already beginning to descend when she turned around and said with an apologetic face:
"You are not offended? You see, I had to check!"
"Go to Dean" I advised, "otherwise Parvati was ogling him all breakfast!"
I was left to freeze in the company of my own thoughts about the vicissitudes of fate. I had a strange pulling feeling of something lost forever, missed a long time ago, as if Ginny's kiss had stirred up memories of a past life. In such cases, they say - we would have met at another time and in another place... Probably, in other circumstances, we could become a good couple, but in this life, as they say, no luck. During these reflections, I did not notice how a school brown owl flew up to me. She flitted in front of me in displeasure, trying to get my attention. She brought me not even a valentine, but a whole box of chocolates. After untying the parcel and letting the owl go for a walk, at first I thought - they had come. Gifts in the form of pink plush bunnies and bouquets of flowers will begin soon. "From a girl waiting for your attention," read the inscription on the attached card. Then it clicked in my head and my brain started to work. Chocolate cauldrons with firewhiskey. Love potion. Romilda Vane.