We sat like this for a long time. They sat in silence, thinking to themselves the absurdity of the situation. Missed lunch.
"You know what," Pat suddenly said, "I wish I could go back in time and go up to all our parents and say what the hell are you doing here, and now we're clearing up?"
"You have a chance," I chuckled, "go to Snape."
Pat let out a nervous laugh.
"They can all go to the devil," He exclaimed.
"Right," I nodded, "we missed lunch, you know?"
"You should say all about food," grumbled Pat, "yes… Our ancestors... If they were still alive..."
"If they were alive," I interrupted him, "we wouldn't be sitting here with you."
"Didn't understand."
"What is there to understand? You would call me a stupid Gryffindor, I would call you a Slytherin bastard, we would assign each other duels at night, send various moronic curses at each other, and our fathers would secretly be proud of their sons." Pat laughed.
"I just imagined," he said through laughter, "Snape reading morality - Potter is the same narcissistic dumb as his dad! Stay away from him!... But what makes you think that your father would turn you against me? He was friends with Sirius, despite his parents."
I snorted.
"It's Sirius! He can't even see his parents! And here fresh enmity in memory. Moreover, Sirius studied in Gryffindor."
"Maybe I'd be in Gryffindor too?" My friend shrugged.
"Well then, mate, Snape would have given up on you!" I laughed, "Let's get out of here, I'm hungry."
Pat rolled his eyes defiantly.
"Why are you making faces, not everyone is like pecking grains for birds."
"There won't be enough seeds for my bird," my friend chuckled, stretching.
"And I'll have to add one more me by weight during the transformation," I remarked, "and are you not afraid of heights at all now?"
"I wasn't afraid of her before," he declared self-confidently, jumping over two steps, "only now... You know ... there is no such tingling in the legs... Well, when you're standing tall, it's usually breathtaking anyway. And now there is no such thing."
"Look," I advised, "you'll fall off the Astronomy Tower, and before you have time to transform, we'll scrape you off with all Hogwarts!"
"This school won't get rid of me that easily!" Pat said proudly.
At the entrance to the Great Hall, we were intercepted by girls. They looked the most desperate.
"Where have you been?" Hermione said.
"On the Quidditch pitch," Pat replied calmly.
"Where's Snape?" Lou asked.
- How do we know? I was surprised and, looking at their worried faces, added, "did you think that I ran away, killed, buried the body in the Forbidden Forest and covered the grave with bushes?"
Hermione exhaled loudly.
"Of course not. He just isn't there... And you are nowhere..."
"Hell with them!" Lou glared at us angrily, and grabbing Hermione's arm, she disappeared from view. !" Lou glared at us angrily, and grabbing Hermione's arm, she disappeared from view.
Pat and I looked at each other in disbelief.
"What's wrong with them?" I asked.
"I have no idea," he shrugged.
On Monday, Potions was hard as hell to focus on. Well, I couldn't look calmly at Snape, I couldn't! Of course, I did not try to stare at him, but it seems that he sensed my mood and decided to finish me off!
"Potter, are you sure you read the blackboard correctly? Potter, do you think...? …Potter… Potter..."
I unsuccessfully tried to cut a dried horned snail, but I realized that I could not do it. I can't because my hands are shaking. His hands are shaking from the desire to strangle Snape.
"Did you have a bad weekend, professor?" I could not resist after another collision and bit my tongue. Hermione coughed and nearly dropped the silver knife into her cauldron. Malfoy looked at me like I was crazy and Pat bit his lip.
Apparently he was funny.
"Repeat what you said?" Snape said softly.
"I said that if you didn't have a good weekend, it doesn't mean that you need to take out your bad mood on me."
I wonder why I'm not scared?
"Potter, get out!" He said in a menacingly gentle tone.
"What?" I was taken aback.
"I'm kicking you out of class for inappropriate behavior!" Snape snapped and turned sharply to Pat. "Do you find this funny, Mr. Random?"
"Yes," my friend agreed honestly.
"Very unfortunate," said his father.
"And don't even dare to think that I'll kick you out after Potter," I continued mentally his phrase, leaving the office.
Snape has repeatedly stated that this is the first and last year of my Potions training with him, and I will not say that I am too upset about this. I sat down on the windowsill in thought, looking at the sky covered with light clouds.
"Hey," said Ron's voice behind me in surprise, "what are you doing here?"
I turned around.
"I got kicked out of Potions," I shrugged.
"Wow," he marveled, "I remember he kicked out Fred and George. They threw a firecracker into some Slytherin's cauldron..."
"Listen, do you know why Hermione started to have a thing for house elves?" I remembered that I had wanted to ask him this for a long time.
"So this is all after the championship," Ron waved his hand.
"What championship?"
"Well, before the fourth year there was the final of the Quidditch World Cup," he began to explain, "dad got amazing places, the match Bulgaria - Ireland..."
"And what about Hermione?" I didn't understand, knowing she wasn't interested in Quidditch. But if you don't kill Ron now, the whole match Bulgaria - Ireland will be told to me in all details.
"That's what I'm saying—dad got the tickets and Ginny invited her."
"What about the elves?" I got even more confused.
"Yes, there was a story - Barty Crouch..."
"Crouch?" I jumped up. My first memory is a name circled in black. Аrrested at the same time as Leistranges. Died in Azkaban. But of course it's his father. The one who threw Sirius in jail without trial.
"Well, yes. He left his elf in her place, but he himself did not appear. So, she sat through the whole game with her eyes closed and was shaking - she was afraid of heights, as it turns out. And I couldn't break orders. So Hermione got stuck on these elves, although in my opinion..."
"Wait, wait…" I interrupted him again as some vague memories popped up in my head, "Is this not the match where the Dark Mark appeared by any chance?"
"Yes, the same one," Ron chuckled darkly, "this elf was found with a wand from which a spell was cast."
"Some kind of nonsense," I said after some silence, "but what about Crouch?"
"What about Crouch?" Ron shrugged his shoulders, "he got terribly furious, yelled at the elf and threw her out... That is, gave her freedom. Yet they said that he was crazy..." - Ron twirled his finger expressively at his temple "after the story with Sirius, after the appearance of this Mark... Crouch retired that summer, before the start of the Tournament. I haven't heard anything more about him.
"And what about the elf?" I asked thoughtfully.
"What is an elf?" Ron didn't understand, distracted by a bunch of giggling seventh-year girls who fluttered by.
"And what happened to her?"
He looked at me in surprise, as if such a question had first occurred to him.
"How should I know?"
Something about this story bothered me.
There was some inconsistency in all this.
Barty Crouch Sr. He left the elf to sit in his place, but he did not come. Dark Mark after the match. Elf with a wand. Why do elves need wands? Their magic is ancient and powerful in its own way... That's what Hermione said...
I didn't notice how I fell asleep. Just like that, on a wide windowsill, comfortably leaning against the wall. I dreamed that I was sitting on a chair - and in front of me were a bunch of girls. They sat in a group and giggled about something of their own - I was not myself. Maybe they're up to something terrible... I knew them all - Ginny, Hermione, Romilda, a seventh grader from Hufflepuff, whose name I did not remember, but she diligently tried to run into me in the corridors... They laughed and pulled some papers - apparently, a lot, and then they came up in turn and kissed me on the cheek... So far, everything has been quite decent, but who knows what will come into their heads next? But suddenly Dobby appeared in front of me and, wringing his hands with a belittling look, began to sing a familiar song:
"Harry Potter must leave the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Harry Potter is in danger!"
" Why not?"
"Oh!" Dobby glanced warily at the girls. "These girls will haunt Harry Potter! Harry Potter will have to get married!"
"Nightmare!" I agreed, jerked off the chair and... Fell off the windowsill.
Two first-graders squealed in fright when I almost collapsed on their heads, but then suddenly burst out laughing and ran away. But I didn't care about them - it dawned on me. Apparently, the lesson is over. Pat and Hermione should be at the exit from the dungeons - that's where I went. I walked quickly, and only out of the corner of my consciousness noticed that they were staring at me in a strange way, trying (or not trying) to hide laughter. But I didn't care - I had such a discovery! And I did find my friends back in the dungeon - as it turned out, Snape delayed them. When I appeared before them, they stared at me dumbfounded. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, and Pat broke into a wide smile.
"I didn't doubt you!" He proclaimed.
Behind him, the same Potions Master appeared, finishing me off in the morning.
"So that's how you spent the time I gave you to reflect on your behavior, Potter. It was rather reckless to hope so."
"What is it?" I couldn't resist.
Hermione silently reached into her bag and handed me a small mirror. When I saw my physiognomy there, I could not help laughing. There were bright imprints of lips on her cheeks, and next to the scar, lipstick was written - "jeune premier"
"Stupid girl!" I made my verdict.
"Who are you talking about?" Pat didn't understand.
"About who did it, of course," I answered, and immediately added in a frightened way, "you don't think that the guy did it?!"
And then it hit me in the head that it was worth communicating my fabrications directly to the first hands.
"Professor!" I called out to Snape, "I know how they got into your office!"
He turned sharply to me, and my friends' faces fell.
"The elf did it."
"Elf?" Pat asked. "Which elf?"
"Home," I explained.
Snape looked at me as if he was calculating something in his mind.
"Why do you think so?" he asked.
"Only they can apparate on the territory of Hogwarts, snooping back and forth. Of course, it's not a joke to pour poison on them, but if the owner ordered, they won't be able to disobey the order, right?"
"Wouldn't it be easier to use a wand?" Pat asked me.
He stood with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall while I washed the art off my face in the men's room.
"And one day you will ask yourself this question when you need to zip up your fly."
Pat snorted. He himself said a million times that most spells are for those who can't get their ass off the couch.
"How did you come up with elves?"
"Weasley got me thinking. He told me one story, but here we need Hermione with her additions."
"Story?" My friend raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, a story that haunts me," I muttered, carefully examining myself in the mirror for the remaining lipstick, "if you only knew I'm sick and tired of this.! Let them deal with everything! I really got fed up with everything. It was as if I found myself in the epicenter of some kind of crazy production, where all the characters are clearly not friends with their heads. I am a "jeune premier", that's for sure - the Main Hero, the chosen one and so on, must defeat the Main Villain. Voldemort - the main Villain, as if descended from the pages of comics - embodies the evil of the world to such an extent that you can hardly believe in his existence. Dumbledore is a wise old teacher, the Great Good Wizard, who, despite his strength, for some reason does not at all seek to finish off the Main Villain himself. Snape - always lusts for evil, but always does good - a character misunderstood by all, who wholeheartedly hates the Main Character (and, possibly, the wise old teacher), but still stands on the side of good... And, ironically, the only character I fully understood was Lucius Malfoy. A person wants power, calmly weaves intrigues, removes competitors... Medieval methods, of course, but how could he know about political management? Of course, there is nothing good in this, but at least his actions are clear and easily explained."
Hermione's version differed from Ron's only in that we listened to a eloquent tirade about the nightmarish life of house elves and the horrifying callousness of Barty Crouch Sr. And I still could not get rid of the thought that something was wrong here and something was clearly missing. But my proposal that it is time to stop racking our brains over this useless business was accepted with a bang. We have exhausted all our possibilities - the last thing was to assemble an expedition to the Forbidden Forest in search of who is hiding there. But we have not yet fallen so hard from the oak head down to do such a thing. That's it - let Dumbledore, Snape and all other professionals do it. And in principle I should be interested in Quidditch and exams, as Ginny on the one hand, and Hermione on the other, constantly reminded me of. Also, Pat and I keep trying, but we can't seem to become animagus. Although I really want to. Romilda Vane doesn't want to leave me behind, after all. There was no doubt that these were her arts - there is nothing to smile so victoriously in my presence.
"I told you you only piqued her interest," Hermione stated in her grim solemn tone, the way she always spoke when something she warned about happened. Even if it was not the best event in life.
"If this was the answer to the love potion," I chuckled, "then I must say that I was disappointed."
In short, as usual, I had a lot of problems.
I knew at a glance that Draco Malfoy was an idiot. And it wasn't that he was "bad", he was... Small. His jokes were stupid and unfunny, his witticisms lacked actual witticism, his hairpins lacked venom and originality, his tricks were petty and not worthy of any attention. All his thoughts were forced on him by his dad, he was completely brainwashed with ideas of pureblood, and, given his mean nature, he did not deserve an ounce of respect. He liked to be the center of attention. I think it gave him inexpressible pleasure to sit in the company of his devoted admirers and assure himself that he was the king of all things. He liked to brag about his position in society - and, unfortunately, he had every reason to do so. The affairs of the old man Lucius confidently went uphill. Not a single issue of the "Prophet" was complete without mentioning his name. Draco Malfoy literally glowed. With all the Weasleys, he always had a bad relationship, as I found out. Because if in the entire wizarding community you had to find two families that are absolutely opposite to each other in everything, then this was it. I didn't really go into the details of this confrontation, but it all started, it seems, with him. One fine day at the beginning of April we had the Metamorphosis. The classes were attended by representatives of all four houses, so it was never boring. By the time I, Hermione, and Pat arrived at the office, the skirmish between Ron and Malfoy was already in full swing. Malfoy twisted his pale face and did his best to portray "cold indifference", Ron, on the contrary, blushed and called him the most obscene thing.
"Ron!" Hermione immediately intervened.
"Oh! There's no way around this without Mudbloods intervening," Malfoy grumbled.
"Now try to repeat this without danger to your life!" I suggested to him in a threatening tone.
It looks like he's completely pissed off. Making such statements in front of Gryffindors is life-threatening for anyone.
"Harry!"
She obviously doesn't want everything to fall into a fight. Gryffindor has very few points. Although Slytherin has no more.
"That's right, Granger, hold on to your protectors. You can even pay a Weasley for this, money, I think, is good for him..."
He failed to finish - Ron attacked him. With fists, forgetting about the wand - Muggle-style, simple and effective. True, fighting near McGonogall's office is not at all interesting - our dean can smell when a brawl begins. We were trying to separate them when she showed up, got pissed to death, deducted points and gave them both punishment. Training without Koltsevoy that day turned out to be absolutely stupid. After twenty minutes of useless dangling in the air, an exasperated Ginny waved her hand and sent everyone to the locker room. And I think it wasn't just her brother.
"Lou, do you know what happened to our captain?"
I found them with Hermione at the owlery. They tied the letter to Hedwig's paw. She sighed happily at the sight of me.
She liked me.
"I know," Lou said sadly.
"What?.."
The girls looked at each other.
"Their father was fired from his job," Lou said.
"Yes? Where did he work?"
"In the Department of Misuse of Muggle Items," Hermione said it in such a sepulchral tone, as if it were something that threatened the world.
"That, of course, explains the mood of Ginny and Ron," I agreed, "but why do you have such faces as if someone died?"
"Because there are two not-so-great conclusions from all of this," Hermione said wisely as she let Hedwig fly, "firstly, this is the increased influence of Lucius Malfoy in the Ministry. And secondly, Mr. Weasley was not just fired, but the department itself was closed."
"What is this department?" I asked as we left the owlery.
"Many wizards," Hermione began, "enchant ordinary Muggle items for their own use. While they have them, nothing, of course, happens, but sometimes they fall into the hands of Muggles, and then..."
"And then the fun begins," I finished.
"In Paris, I heard a story," Lou was suddenly inspired, "an enchanted mirror ended up at an auction, where it was bought for a fashion clothing store and hung in a fitting room. And, imagine, it was taken to comment on each fitting - "Mademoiselle, you definitely do not fit in this dress!", Or - "Madame, you should have stopped wearing such skirts twenty years ago!"
"And how many heart attacks did you have?" I yelled.
"Not at all," Lou chuckled, "all the visitors thought that the sellers were mocking them. I yelled.
- Not at all, - Lou chuckled, - all the visitors thought that the sellers were mocking them."
"That's a good example, of course," Hermione agreed smiling, "but just think where it all leads. They're cutting ties with Muggles! Muggle safety doesn't matter anymore! And who knows how far such a policy can go?"
However, Draco Malfoy beamed. And since he did not know how to rejoice in silence, he got absolutely the whole school with his jubilation. Pat had already threatened to strangle him with a pillow at night, because he no longer had the strength to live in the same room with him. All Pat's friends in Slytherin also went gloomy - the battles in the dungeons reached their climax. My friend told me that their camp had even shrunk by a few people, also the result of Malfoy's pernicious influence. Well, and their parents. The defectors did not look particularly happy - their former friends ignored them. The new ones were not the best quality. Perhaps there were two of the clearest testimonies of friendship between the warring faculties. Me and Pat and, of course, the crazy foursome first graders. Everything. I admit that there were associations sympathetic to the cause. But for the most part, my classmates brought me to white heat. And one evening there was an explosion in the Gryffindor common room. The room was, as always, full of people. The usual activities are lessons, games, idle chatter. And, to my regret, I had to be next to those who discussed Malfoy and his company in detail, what a jerk he is, how everyone hates him.
I already heard all this a hundred times a day and said, smiling:
If he were here, he would be very happy.
"What are you talking about?" Dean turned his head towards me.
"That he wants to be talked about," I sighed, "and you are doing him a great favor."
"And what do you suggest?"
"Forget. Isn't it a lot of honor for him to spend his free time on him?"
"Because those damn Slytherins are already fed up!" Seamus exclaimed belligerently, supported by a discordant murmur of voices.
"Don't generalize!" little brown-haired boy suddenly protested. It was Ollie's boyfriend - Nathan, I think "if you can't meet normal Sleserins, that's your problem!"
"Shut up," said Finnigan indignantly.
"So he's right," I said.
"You know, Harry," he began rather abruptly, "you've been studying here not too long ago. And in six years of study, I was completely convinced that all Slytherins are assholes! And if your friend is studying at this torn faculty, then maybe you should reconsider your attitude towards him?!"
The people are silent. I felt an anger welling up in me that had long been in need of an outlet. Anger at everything that's happened to me lately, at Dumbledore going around and around, at Malfoy with his fucking politics, at the school with its stupid rules, at people who constantly stare at my forehead, and at classmates who acting like complete idiots.
"You mean," I said softly, looking up at him, "to stop being friends with someone I've known five times as long as you just because he has a different color tie? Are you now branding my friend, who has never said a bad word to any of you," I looked around at everyone present, "just because he is in Slytherin?"
"I mean…" Seamus started, but I cut him off.
"What you wanted, you already said," I said rather rudely, "as I understand it, everyone here is of the same opinion," I looked around the audience again.
I was very "lucky" - at that moment neither Lou, nor Hermione, nor even Ginny was here, and there was no one to support me.
"Not all, not all!" the first-grader jumped in his place.
"Thanks, Nathan. So, the majority," I smiled wryly, "Wonderful! You opened my eyes to reality! Malfoy is a asshole, so all the Slytherins are too. Apparently, every Slytherin has the name Malfoy - but I didn't even know! I'm here recently! And my friend, it turns out, is also the same as Malfoy. And no matter that his mother was killed by Death Eaters, it doesn't matter that he didn't want to learn magic at all, and that he doesn't like wizards more than muggles - it doesn't matter!" I almost shouted, - "we have one mantra - "all Slytherins are the same." Why think when everything is so clear?"
There was silence and everyone present stared at me. I don't know why they listened to me, and I myself am not a fan of talking in public, but then I broke through.
"From the very beginning of my studies here, all I can hear is how all of you here are whining - "Slytherins this, Slytherins that," I continued in an angry voice, "but they just don't live from them! And here they come to meet you! Sami! First! But no! You turn up your nose! What do you want? What would Malfoy collapse into your legs? For Parkinson to work with lagging first graders? You can't wait for this, sorry. But you don't want to put up with normal Slytherins! Do you know why? Yes, because you love it! After all, it's great - there is always someone to curse, you always know who is to blame. And you know what else I can tell you?" I completely dispersed, "Slytherins are not half as arrogant as Gryffindors! After all, we love ourselves so much, don't we? We are all such cool guys! So honest, noble, brave! And how can we hang out with those nasty Slytherins? Have you ever thought that your arrogance is what makes them assholes?!"
"You're insulting the faculty now, Potter," one seventh-year student remarked gloomily, "which, by the way, your parents also studied at..."
"And Pettigrew," I barked, getting even angrier at the mention of my parents, "who betrayed them and is responsible for their deaths, too! And he's also a Gryffindor! I remember that very well!"
I went to the bedroom under the weight of silent looks. But suddenly he turned around and said his last word:
"The Hat wanted to send me to Slytherin," I said loudly, watching with some strange pleasure the faces stretched from such a confession, "and it begins to seem to me that I made the wrong choice!"