"That was pure improvisation!" Pat would tell me so the next morning.

"We will hold out to the last," Jacob McNair will tell me, grinning.

"We just want to prove that Slytherins deserve respect too," Deirdre McLallen will say in her calm, confident voice.

They didn't show up for breakfast. In daylight, for some reason, it looked especially creepy. It was as if an epidemic of some terrible disease had passed through Slytherin. When they didn't show up for both lunch and dinner, they didn't talk about anything else at school other than a new-found strike. The students only talked about what the Slytherin Jacobins were demanding, whether they were on a hunger strike, what Snape would do with the enraged faculty, and what was happening in general.

"You see, there is no such rule that would forbid students not to appear at lunch. Even if it's half the house" our smartest friend said wisely.

Lupine fully agreed with Hermione, from whom we learned all the news from the camp of teachers.

"Understand, the question here is the division of competence," Rem explained, "this is the problem of a single faculty, and Professor Snape is responsible for it. After all, they really do not commit any terrible offense for which any severe punishment is provided... Well, while the headmaster is silent..."

Lou was surprised.

"He did," Rem nodded.

According to him, in response to the raging Snape, who was unable to cope with his own house, Dumbledore offered to "let the children decide their own differences", if, of course, this "does not go beyond acceptable limits." And so, with the headmaster's unspoken blessing, my friend's Slytherin company was having a blast. And here's what actually happened on that memorable evening... When Pat, angry with everyone and everything, jumped up during dinner and rushed into the dungeons hated by any claustrophobe, he did not even think about any rebellion. Having kicked Malfoy's favorite chair heartily, he calmed down a little - and at that moment Jay burst into the Slytherin common room.

"I can't sit there any longer," he confessed to my friend.

"Ha, sit!" Pat chuckled sadly, "I live in the same room with these idiots."

Jay did not have time to answer that his room was also full and not such idiots, as all the other members of the opposition began to enter the living room in turn. When they all gathered together and silently exchanged glances, then, according to my friend, the castle should have fallen apart from the unanimous burst of Homeric laughter. At a quickly assembled military council, it was decided not to leave this matter just like that.

"An opportunity like this may never come again!"

"We'll show the whole of Hogwarts what it means to be a real Slytherin!"

And under such slogans, an impromptu strike began. And the rule of thumb was... Don't break the rules. It was a great psychological attack, and literally on everyone. No hunger strike, as everyone understands, and did not smell - the kitchen is always open for those who know which doors to knock on... But what an effect!

Everyone was talking about it! Of course, there were those who said:

"Of course Snape won't do anything to Random. He is his son!"

But usually there were always others who justly interrupted:

"He's a son, and what about all the rest of him, cousin-nephews?"

Hermione was delighted - everything that happened combined her two loves - for justice and for following the rules, so she liked everything.

"Of course they supported you," she said to Pat, "you are their leader!"

The four of us were walking around familiar places by the lake, and my friend choked on smoke from these words.

"You are crazy! Who am I to you, Wellington? In life, I was not eager to be a leader, so they will confirm."

Lou and I nodded our heads in unison. Hermione hesitated.

"I am not a leader. I'm like..." Pat thought, "well, just imagine. Kitchen. One burner is open and the room gradually fills with gas. If you open the door ... well, or the window, the gas will erode. But if you bring a match, then it explodes. Here I am - this is a match.

"What metaphors, Pat," admired Lou, "you're like a poet!"

"A poet or not a poet - explains the essence. The real leader is Deirdre. This, you know, is not a girl, but..."

He could not find words and simply showed a clenched fist.

A few days later, the teachers simply forbade the elves to feed the rebels. Poor elves... They could not disobey the order, but not to feed the hungry children was a crime against humanity for them. They wringed their hands and, with tears in their huge spherical eyes, escorted the students out of the kitchen. But Slytherins wouldn't be real Slytherins if they didn't find an even better way out. Having learned from Pat that the house elves could apparate at Hogwarts, they began to use the services of their own house elves without a twinge of conscience. The funniest thing was that they themselves began to like their own position. And, to the credit of the Slytherin rebels, they did not find any strikebreakers. The confrontation continued for a week. The whole school followed this. Even the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff match was almost forgotten. I have already said that there was clearly not enough entertainment at Hogwarts, and students clutched at any event that was the least bit distracting from monotonous study. If only amateur art activities were organized, or something... The highlight of my life this week was that I got into a fight with Malfoy again. As usual, everything started quietly and peacefully - I went to the boys' room. To my shame, I confess that I started first. It was like this - I stand calmly, washing my hands, and Malfoy comes out of the booth.

"Damn, Potter, you're not even safe here," he grimaced.

"I am omnipresent," I said, grinning, "I ran here specifically for you."

Looking at his long face, I laughed. I was in a good mood.

"What are you without your friends?" I wondered, "I thought you went to the toilet with them. Hold something there..."

"Shut up, Potter!" - snapped Malfoy, obviously not in the best mood, "do not transfer from a sick head to a healthy one. It is you and your friend who are forever inseparable."

"A hint to the wrong address" I grinned good-naturedly, "don't you read newspapers? All the girls love me."

"Of course they do," he snorted irritably, "newspapers are all nonsense!"

"You know that for sure," I smiled wryly, "because your daddy pays for this nonsense."

Malfoy winced. And suddenly one thought visited me, and I turned to him, folding my arms on my chest and blocking the way.

"Listen," I exclaimed in a tone of feigned surprise, "and I'm still scratching my head, why are you still digging up to me? So stubbornly that only two options arise - either you are an idiot, or you really breathe unevenly towards me..."

He opened his mouth to answer, but I interrupted him.

"Or maybe someone just suggested to you to provoke me into all sorts of fights, showdowns, so that the portrait of the hero would not seem insipid?"

He turned pale, swallowed convulsively, and glanced nervously at the door.

"You should go, Potter," Malfoy grumbled, holding out his hand for his wand, "you're not Random, Snape won't do anything to me for you."

"How bad," I clicked my tongue, "are you really angry at Pat that he beat you in your own favorite means? Papa protection?"

"Yes, I don't care about both of you!" he got angry at the end, and sarcastically added, "however... Where did I get the idea that Snape would do something for him? Guess I had a little fun when I was young. He probably doesn't care about this shit..."

He failed to reach an agreement. Still, I didn't have time to get used to the stick, so at the last word I just punched him in the face again. I won't lie and say that I'm all so cool and beat him - Malfoy answered, and we didn't even immediately remember about magic. But the men's room is not a wasteland, and we were separated. Malfoy complained to Snape, of course, and I got an internal investigation with the Potions Master and McGonogall as interrogators. However, this albino Nazi asked for it. I myself did not deny that I was the first to start a quarrel - and provoked, and hit. Well, yes, I am so multifaceted.

"Why did you attack Malfoy?" Our dean asked me sternly.

"He insulted my friend," I replied calmly, and looking at Malfoy and Snape, I added, "he called him a bastard."

McGonogall winced at the word, but said nothing about rudeness, read me a moral about decent behavior at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and gave me four days of punishment. Nicely. Although it was worth it - Malfoy looked at me like a wolf, and Snape stood with his lips pursed menacingly, and somewhere in the depths of his eyes a dangerous light lit up. I don't know what exactly the Head of Slytherin later said to his student, but the latter never made such statements again.

The Slytherin Strike, or whatever-it-was-not-called, was over in a week.

The day before, Snape called his rebellious son to him and asked:

"How long will you keep doing this?" He inquired ingratiatingly.

"What to do?" Pat didn't understand.

"Punish me."

This conversation was described to me by Pat himself and added that the professor, apparently, had a very high opinion of himself, since he decided that everything that happened was primarily about him.

"You are mistaken, Professor Snape," my friend said in a cool tone, "this protest action has nothing to do with our family ties, but is purely political in nature.

"Political, you mean?" I can directly imagine how he raises his eyebrows with a dangerous expression in his eyes, "well, well..."

And the next day, the teaching staff put forward their ultimatum - if the newly-minted rebels continue to boycott the common meals, they, in turn, will begin to boycott their studies and stop allowing them to attend classes. There was nothing to do - it was just stupid to continue. Although, according to my friend, all the Slytherins who took part in all this farce were long nostalgic for the times of their quiet rebellion - and still some call their house elves when they really want to eat. I will not imagine and lie that after this event, the Slytherins opened their friendly arms - but they managed to show themselves from a side from which no one had seen them yet - and they began to be respected, I can be sure of this. In the end, things settled down, Hufflepuff unexpectedly beat Ravenclaw, Sirius wrote that Miss Skitter would not bother us again, and Romilda Vane resumed the siege of the impregnable fortress in my face. Everything went back to normal.

"Harry, I want a vacation."

"Me too, but I don't whine."

"I don't whine. I'm just stating this fact."

Pat was squinting like a cat in the spring sun, and I was standing, throwing off my robe and leaning my back against a tree - it was warm.

The girls were on Runes.

"I'm tired of everything," Pat continued to rant, "I want to go home. In London. To my room. View news on the BBC. And wake up because my aunt is playing Grieg..."

"Pat, are you all right?" I looked at him carefully.

"Come againe?" He opened his eyes and turned his head towards me.

""Is everything okay, I ask?"

"Yes, of course," he snorted.

But not everything was in order. I would even say that everything was completely out of order. And the point here was one notorious fair-haired beast. The whole problem with their relationship was that everything was unclear where everything was absolutely clear. Unclear? And so they had the same relationship. I don't know exactly since when Lou became like Pat, maybe since she came into our classroom, maybe later. In general, he does not really like to expand on this topic, giving me and others the opportunity to draw their own conclusions. I knew them both for a hundred years, and I understood them, probably, more than anyone else. Maybe it was easier for someone to imagine Pat together with some smart, diligent girl like Hermione (although it's silly to call Hermione a diligent girl - when I think sometimes, what she can be capable of for a really worthwhile cause, her hair stands on end. Although I always have them on end.) With Lou he rested. He felt bad when she was not around for a long time. He quietly freaked out when boyfriends curled around her. She was the person whose presence was essential for his peace of mind. The "vague certainty" of their relationship, as Sue used to say, was visible to everyone. If Lou had been more restrained and suffered a little more modesty... But our friend in the manifestation of her emotions is never embarrassed by anyone. If she is ashamed, she blushes, if she finds it funny, she laughs, if she is sad, she is not shy about her tears... This I mean that if she decides to hang on your neck from an overabundance of feelings, she will easily do this without any embarrassment. This is embarrassing to many, and even shocking to some. I'm already used to her antics, the main thing is to understand that this is a manifestation of sincere friendship, and nothing more. Pat was worse. Because he needed something more than sincere friendship. And with Lou, it wasn't easy to tell where friendship ended and something more began. And due to the peculiarities of his nature, he did not rush things. She, apparently, was waiting for him to start hostilities. And although Aunt Meg in her imagination had long ago engaged them, married and baptized all their future children, they continued to portray friendship forever. It would be better if Lou were not here - we would come for the holidays, they would see each other after a long separation and at once they would understand that they cannot live without each other. Because of this, it also happened to me - with enviable constancy, some suffering person, smitten with the charms of the Veila, would come to me and ask me if my friend was dating anyone and if he could invite her on a date. Why did they come to me, I don't know - but I was already starting to feel like a real pimp. Worst of all, spring took its toll and everyone seemed to go crazy. Teachers every single day crucified about exams, and students have only one love in their heads. Maybe it was Dumbledore who started some secret charms, decided to experiment about his favorite theory? I felt like the only sober person in a completely drunk company. Either you are laughing at watching others around you, then everything suddenly starts to infuriate you to such an extent that you want to growl.

"What is Hermione talking about with Ravenclaw?" Pat asked as he sat down next to me at the table.

I wrote an essay on Herbology.

"That's the headboy of the school," I replied grimly.

"I know who it is," he shrugged his shoulders, "I asked - what is his conversation about?"

"How should I know?" I was indignant, "some of their common business!"

"Don't be angry, mate," Pat patted me on the shoulder with a sly grin.

"I am not angry!" I muttered.

"You are angry," my friend nodded affirmatively, "this is called "jealousy."

"You know, go to hell with your assumptions!" - I got completely angry, "first deal with your loves problems, and then start giving advice to others!"

"Hey Pat!"

We both looked up at the familiar calm voice as Deirdre walked up to us and gave my friend a slight sympathetic smile.

"You on the carpet."

Pat's face slowly twisted, as if he was manfully and carefully chewing a lemon.

"Urgently?" he asked without any hope.

"Well…," Deirdre drawled, wrinkling her face as if not wanting to break the news to Pat, "he had looke… Dissatisfied."

He covered his face with his hands as soon as she moved away from our table.

"I wish he was pleased," he muttered, "I have ignored his invitation twice already!"

"Apparently, you know why he is calling you, since you don't go," I grunted, without raising my head.

"I'm afraid you were right with your assumptions," Pat said despondently, "my aunt sent me a letter. She says he came and spoke to her about the official recognition. And that was even before the article was published."

I exhaled, turned my head and looked at my friend.

Pat looked like a man wishing with all his might to be anywhere but this very minute.

He twisted his lips and answered my silent question:

"She told him that I was an adult and let him ask me."

"What do you think about?" I asked quietly.

"I think I'm stuck!" he said angrily, "and don't look at me like that!" He added, "I don't care if he officially recognizes me or not!"

"Pat, what do you want from him?" I seriously asked the question, Pat's answer to which had long interested me.

He looked into my eyes very attentively, and either bitterness or pain was reflected on his face.

"I just want him to admit it to himself. I don't need another surname, I need a father. Yes, he is not a gift, but I have no other! And he looks at me forever with such a stunned look, as if he himself does not understand how he did this. It's like he's saying, "Fack! I made a baby! Blimey!". I admitted it. I'm a teenager, I'm seventeen, Harry, and he's thirty-seven - why should I go to meet him?"

"Go and tell him that," I clapped him on the shoulder.

Pat blinked, his face lit up, and he looked at me as if I had just rediscovered the law of the conservation of matter.

"I'll go and tell him!" he said bravely, and, picking up the bag, set off towards the dungeons.

"But not immediately in the forehead!" I called after him, but I doubt he heard me.

But heard Madam Pince.

"What a disgrace!" she hissed, indignant, "what do you allow yourself to do?! t's a library!"

"Yes, I'm silent, I'm silent," I muttered annoyedly, once again buried in my composition.

But the thought was gone. Or rather, the thought went on a different track - what should I do with the claims to my attention from Miss Vane. Laughter laughter, but something had to be done. Firstly, she tired of, and secondly, who knows what else she will do. Ginny told me recently that she ran into her gang again in the toilet (school toilets are a lifetime ...), and she bragged to her girlfriends that allthing was literally ok... I don't know if she has an obsession or if I was bet on - but now I really felt the full force of Gryffindor stubbornness.

"Where did Pat go?" asked a blushing Hermione, taking the same chair he was sitting in.

Her face expressed a strange embarrassment, as if she was embarrassed for something in front of me. Do not think that I do not wish my friend happiness, but if Hermione disappears for the world in this love madness, then I will definitely go crazy.

"Fight with his father," I replied sourly.

"Oh," she said knowingly, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, "where's Lou?"

"She and Luna are discussing some otherworldly issues."

They found each other.

Hermione was silent for a moment, laying out her writing materials on the table, and then said:

"They act like complete idiots, don't you think?"

I snorted in agreement.

"This couple is already sick of me."

"Such stupidity," Hermione said in amazement, "to pretend to be just friends, when it is clear to everyone, and first of all, to themselves, that this is not so!"

"That's right!" I agreed and turned my head towards her.

For a few moments we somehow looked too intently into each other's eyes, and then each returned to his work. I had a strange feeling inside me that something had just happened, but what exactly I could not understand.

"Do you know that you and Pat will take exams like everyone else, along with the sixth year?" Hermione asked cheerfully.

"Yes, McGonogall told me."

This was no longer news - the dean explained to me that we would not receive the promised OWLS, but would surrender like all normal sixth-year students. But a lot will depend on the results - if I don't get the highest score in Potions, for example, then I won't go to Snape in my seventh year. Actually, I won't. In fact, he doesn't wait for me.

"There's an apparition test this Saturday," Hermione announced another piece of news.

"Realy?" I was surprised.

The conversation didn't flow at all. The essay was not written. The mood was precarious. For a complete set, it was not enough for the scar to get sick and Voldemort to phone me through the mental link with his weighty "I'll be back".

"Hello, where is Pat?"

I looked up as Lou came over, clutching a fresh issue of The Quibbler, and took a deep breath.

"Harry, you have become very irritable lately," she immediately caught my mood, she added, "you need to be in the fresh air more."

"I do. I have workouts every other day. Fresh air - I can choke," I answered restrainedly, and added, "Pat at Snape's."

"Ahhh…" Lou said knowingly, and began discussing the articles in The Quibbler with Hermione, thereby distracting her from her work and occasionally throwing some kind of studying, and it seems, pleased, looks at me.

My thoughts rushed off in a completely different direction - towards the animagus. Lately, our experiences have upset me more than pleased me. Pat has been able to get further — perhaps because he had to transform into a creature much smaller than a horse — recently he managed to cover himself with dark brown feathers. This made me burst into uncontrollable laughter, and Pat himself ran around the Room for several minutes, waving his arms and laughing out loud. I didn't have much progress, except for my friend's remark that I began to snort like a horse. I continued more out of sheer stubbornness, although it was annoying that nothing worked.

"Harry, you don't write anything," said Hermione, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Dreaming," I admitted.

"Who is this about?" Lu smiled playfully.

"About hooves, mane and tail!" I chuckled and began to fold my unfinished essay, "I can't do anything else."

I thought they would stay, but I was wrong. The girls climbed up with me, and I mentally imagined myself with this constant convoy, consisting of Lou and Hermione - just like a sultan with a harem.

I chuckled.

"Come again?" Hermione asked.

"I am thinking about earthly and magical life."

"Harry, you've really become very irritable lately," Hermione took on a very serious and preoccupied tone, "are you sure it's your emotions?"

"It would be convenient to attribute everything to Voldemort," I answered, realizing what she was getting at, "but it's not."

We were just passing by Madam Pince's observation post when the climax and denouement of the mental anguish of my two best friends took place. It all happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that I myself did not fully believe it. As I said, we were passing by the librarian, and we lingered for a couple of seconds, because Hermione needed to inquire with her about the arrival of new books in the Hogwarts library. The thought flashed through my head that she had already read all those that were available. And then Pat appeared at the door. And for this appearance of his, this short phrase says too little. His appearance was so determined, his ugly, sharply defined face was really beautiful at that moment, and his eyes seemed to glow from the inside with some kind of knowledge, or understanding of something that was inaccessible to him for a long, long time, and now finally revealed to him in all its glory. It was the highest moment of Pat's inspiration. He didn't seem to notice me, Hermione, or anyone else in the room. Pat stepped towards Lou and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Pat, are you sick?" she managed to murmur a little frightened.

"No, I'm in love!" he declared proudly and loudly and kissed her not at all. like a friend.

"Yes, how... yes, what... but what is it?!" Madame Pince finally asked when she stopped pretending to be a fish thrown onto land, opening and closing her mouth in front of the action that was happening in front of her, "stop it right now! It's a library! What do you allow yourself?!"