" And why do you usually end up in the Hospital Wing after Quidditch?" I thoughtfully asked myself.
"Because you are an idiot!" Malfoy yelled from the other bunk, apparently thinking I was asking him, "You're crazy, Potter! You nearly killed both of us!! Sick!!!"
"Shut up, infusoria!" I lazily turned away from his face twisted with anger, "healthy people are not kept here."
"Because of you! I! Broke! Leg!"
"I didn't throw you off the broom! It's not my fault that you can't fly."
"YOU can't fly!" He protested. "If you hadn't twisted your fucking broom, I would have caught the Snitch and I wouldn't have fallen into this fucking mud and broken my leg!!!"
It looks like he was going into a fit of hysterics.
"History doesn't have a subjunctive, Malfoy," I remarked philosophically and bared my twenty-eight teeth, "but I can apologize. Want?"
"You know where to go with your apologies?! .."
Oh, what a great title for a Malfoy! Not an enemy, but an enemy!
"Mr. Potter!" Cackled Madam Pompfrey indignantly, flying out of her office with some vials, "what are you doing?!"
"Shock therapy," I explained popularly.
"I refuse to be in the same room with him!" finally gave the voice of Malfoy, since I hit the top ten with a pillow, "he is dangerous for other people!"
"Mr Malfoy!" yelled the nurse, "you both stay here for the moment! And I advise you to stop your bickering, otherwise I will have to get you drunk with a Tranquil potion!"
And, continuing to grumble and complain about dangerous sports and negligent students who have completely lost their shame and conscience, Madam Pompfrey began to "patch" us. As you may have guessed, this crazy Quidditch match ended in our favor. I have no doubt that the team and the entire faculty have already begun a feast with a mountain about winning the Cup, but I'm on a par with my I am not a friend, as you have noticed, in the halls of Madame Pompfrey. We are both dirty, wet and battered. I have bruises on the left side of my face, a broken finger on my left hand, a sprained ankle (same damn it!) and a small collection of bruises and bruises. But Malfoy has a plowed nose and a broken leg. Judging by the way he was angrily waving his arms, they are fine with him. But the leg looks ugly, I admit it. Actually, about how it all happened...
The match began with Demelza's resounding goal into the Slytherin rings. The stands roared - a goal in the first four minutes is rare. True, then she barely dodged the Bludger. Bludgers were often aimed at me too, but after the crazy dodges of crazy balls in my first game, the efforts of Crabbe and Goyle did not scare me. Malfoy was floating somewhere on the other side of the field - he seemed to be keeping his distance from me. We conceded the next two goals. The Gryffindor stands gave way to desperate cries, the Slytherins - joyful. I clearly saw how Ginny, flying past Ron, showed her brother a fist with a menacing look. A couple of minutes later, she scored a stunning goal into the Slytherin rings. And then, during the delighted roar of the fans, I saw the Snitch - he loomed next to the professorial stands. Having already turned the broom in that direction, I even thought - this will be an easy victory, contrary to all expectations. My opponent also rushed there, but I was sure that I would have time to fly first.
"…And now — it seems the Seekers have seen the Snitch!" The commentator yelled. I kept forgetting this guy's name, and I didn't like his comments either.
"...They rush towards each other - but who will be the first?.."
The first was the Snitch himself. That little golden winged bastard disappeared at the last moment, and I barely turned my broom so as not to face Malfoy head-on. The stadium hummed in frustration. The game went on, but the Chasers and Keepers got all the tension. Ron started to play better (what did Ginny threaten him with?), and the girls tried their best. I didn't follow the game very much, looking for the damn ball, but the Snitch disappeared to who knows where and refused to appear. When we scored the tenth goal, it began to rain. Not a downpour, but a light drizzle, but after five minutes I felt soaked through. In addition, I had to put Impervus on my goggles right in the air. Luckily the wand was with me. When I flew quite high above the stands, then suddenly something edged my attention and disappeared from sight. Just a glimpse of consciousness noted something wrong, without even analyzing what it is. I went to another circle, and I saw him - a man who absolutely did not fit into the overall picture. And at that moment the outcome of the game ceased to have any meaning for me. I sharply turned the broom away from the field - the stranger was standing in the shade of a tree not far from the field and seemed to be watching. Perhaps for the match, and perhaps for someone in particular. He made no effort to hide, but no one paid any attention to what was happening outside the stadium - the whole school, all the professors are now in the stands. And who would even think of guarding the inner territory of Hogwarts, when everyone is sure of his perfect safety from various bad guys. At such a distance, and even with my eyesight, it was unrealistic to recognize the face. I could only make out a thin male figure when this man realized that I was watching him. He quickly jerked towards the Forbidden Forest (and I swear I had a crazy intention to fly after him) when the voice of the commentator burst into my head:
"AND… Yes! With a score of 160:90 in favor of Gryffindor, the Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy began a swift pursuit of the Snitch!"
And then the enraged voice of my captain:
"POTTER!!! ARE YOU TOTALLY FUCKED?!!! SNITCH!!!"
"Oh shit!" I came to my senses, turning my broom a hundred and eighty degrees and trying to find the top of my head with a blond head.
Malfoy was at a reasonable distance from me - he was flying up, obviously chasing the golden ball. I rushed after him at top speed - what else could I do? The only thing that could save me was the Bludgers, relentlessly sent in his direction and slowing down his flight.
"Come on, dear!" I muttered, urging my broom on.
"What, Potter, awake?" my rival gritted through his teeth, when I almost caught up with him.
I didn't even look at Malfoy - there was already one target in front of my eyes - a tiny golden ball, rushing at a staggering speed ahead.
"Yes, I woke up," I also gritted tensely, "good morning!" and rushed down so sharply that in my head, it seems, all the brains turned over. It was a moment of pure intuition, like that time on the stairs. I did not think - I acted on some reflexes hidden in the normal state. For a fraction of a second, I managed to get ahead of the Snitch's movement, and now he is already rushing down, not up, and in pursuit of him it is already me, not Malfoy, who is in the lead. We plummeted down. Foot after foot brought us closer to the ground, the Snitch completely drove everything else out of my head, I completely forgot about my opponent. I didn't hear anything - neither the roar of the stands, nor the commentator, nor even the whistle of the wind in my ears - everything around was suddenly filled with a ringing emptiness, and only one thought was to catch, catch, win. Perhaps Malfoy felt the same at that moment, although his cry still reached me:
"We're breaking up now!"
At the same moment, as if he had heard, the Snitch jerked sharply up and to the side.
Towards Malfoy. He almost grabbed it, but I, in some incomprehensible way, twisting my Lightning, jumped over it and nevertheless caught the winged ball first. Actually, I still can't reproduce the exact sequence of events in my head. I may have caught the Snitch as I fell off my broom - I don't deny it at all. The fact is that when I made this incredible loop, Malfoy jerked sharply to the side, touched me and together we flew down from our brooms. And let it be low, but we landed quite unsuccessfully. Everything was shaking in my head again, as if in some kind of saucepan, and the only thing that my not quite clear consciousness was enough for was to raise my hand high with the Snitch in it, which meant the end of the game.
"I saw him," I informed my friends as I was expelled from Madam Pompfrey's halls in the late afternoon.
It was already after dinner, which I did spend in the Hospital Wing with Malfoy. Only he was left for the night in the warm company of Kosterost because of a broken leg, and they let me go. Most likely, the head nurse at Hogwarts realized the fact that if we were left alone with each other for such a long time, tomorrow there would be one less student at the school.
"Did you see who?" Hermione clarified.
"How - whom? Bad man" I hissed, imitating Samei, "bad man in Forest"
"Where?" Lou rolled her eyes.
"When?" Hermione encouraged her.
"This is when you flew away from the stadium somewhere to the side, looking for not-understand-what?" Pat thought immediately.
"Yes," I nodded my head, "I'm sure it was the same guy."
"And I'm sure it's paranoia, Harry," my friend said in all seriousness.
Judging by the skeptical expressions on the girls' faces, they agreed with him.
"Yes, understand, there was no one else there!" I insistently said "everyone was in the stands! No one paid any attention to him during the match. And when he realized that I noticed him, he immediately pulled into the forest!"
"And why the hell did he even go out then?" Pat asked a reasonable question.
"Do I know?"
"Maybe he wanted to follow someone," said Hermione at once, "quite possibly Harry."
Thanks, friend. Comforted.
"Maybe he just likes Quidditch?" Lou was inspired, "did you see his face?"
"Are you kidding me?" I chuckled. "I didn't have binoculars with me."
"Sorry," Pat said.
"Is it a pity that I didn't see it, or is it a pity that I didn't have binoculars?"
"A spyglass, Potter," he laughed, "or a telescope!"
"Pat, are you upset that Slytherin lost?" Lou hugged him.
"I?! Not at all."
Jay is upset. Therefore, today in the dungeons there will be a drinking party called "Farewell Cup!".
"Are we going to celebrate?" I turned to Hermione.
"I suspect that they started celebrating a long time ago," she stated with a mournful moralizing face, "and we will now find everyone in enough... Festive mood. So, after chatting a little more, we went to the faculty bedrooms. Pat - down, we - up. We stomped slowly to the Gryffindor tower, discussing upcoming exams, professors and plans for the future. But already on the way to the portrait, a disheveled fifth-year student ran into us. I didn't remember her name.
"Hermione!" She yelled, "there you are! And I ran to look for you!"
But when she saw me, she briskly jumped back and quickly drew her wand, pointing it at the innocent me.
"And I'm glad to see you," I drawled in a sepulchral tone.
"What's happening?" My friends exclaimed in unison.
She glanced at me warily again and, looking that I did not pose a danger, lowered her wand.
"This is what's going on here!" the fifth-year student issued with feeling...
And in the Gryffindor common room was going on a complete bedlam. Not only was there a wild uproar of screams, laughter and squeals, but some smart guy turned on the radio to its fullest, and some fashionable magical group howled all over the room, trying to portray themselves as real rockers. Perhaps they were trying to portray not rockers, but banshees. Initially, I believe, it was a relatively modest party. But then it grew into something more... Eccentric. Now only the little ones were having fun - spreading out in the corners, they, giggling, enjoyed the general commotion that the tipsy high school students made. And they, judging by the scattered furniture and the story of Amy (fifth-year girls), staged a raid on high school students.
"They seem to have gone crazy!" She said.
We, as always, missed the most interesting - how two seventh graders started a fight over the right to attention from Katie Bell, how Lavender punched Ron in the face for the latter's unnecessarily long arms, how Ginny poured a jug of water over Dean's head (apparently in in order to cool her ardent lover) and sent winged nightmares at McLaggen, how Parvati learned to run with obstacles, taking her legs away from someone zealous fifth-year student, like... In short, we missed all this extravaganza, because by the time we arrived, it dawned on the girls that the best solution would be to hide in the bedrooms. Only the brave Amy plucked up the determination to find someone sane.
"Where are you!" Seamus jumped out to meet us, opening his drunken arms for Amy.
She immediately grabbed her wand and, pointing it at the enemy, warned in a threatening tone:
"Stay away from me, Finnigan! You better not come!"
And sideways, sideways backed towards the girls' bedrooms, not forgetting to keep the wand in a state of alert.
"Well, where are you!" Seamus yelled after her, "we're having a party! We took the Cup!"
Someone yelled in approval, and the living room became even more noisy. I had to push my girlfriends towards the stairs myself - they were the only girls in the male company and began to attract too much attention. Hermione tried to frown and portray a formidable head girl, but it didn't get through to anyone - Ron and Cormac McLaggen vied with each other to offer her either butterbeer, or a glass of firewhiskey, or a sip of mead... And Lu, who already suffered from an excess of male attention, generally turned into the queen of the evening. Actually, it was funny - a bunch of guys who formed a circle of admirers jumped around her like a flock of disturbed baboons. But it was not so easy to get through - at first she floridly sent one zealous fifth grader, that he blushed and pulled away, then abruptly threw off the hand of some seventh year student who unobtrusively tried to hug her from her shoulder.
"Don't you see that I have a boyfriend?" She was outraged loudly and menacingly, although how that unfortunate man could understand this at that moment, I don't know.
Lou held her hand up and, I swear, electric shocks crackled between her fingers.
"Whoever bothers me," she said threateningly with the air of an approaching hurricane, "will get between the eyes at once!"
Everyone took a step away from her, but continued to stare with admiration. Needless to say - Lou at that moment was just gorgeous.
"It's clear?!" she growled to make it more convincing.
"That's it, honey, calm down and stop pretending to be the Statue of Liberty," I decided to take the initiative into my own hands and dragged it to a safe distance from her fans, simultaneously grabbing Hermione in the other hand, "everything, it's time for the girls bye-bye!"
"This is from my grandmother," Lou whispered confidentially to me in parting.
"Why did you take them away?" Ron was indignant, and Neville jumped up from his scream, who had been quietly snoring before in the corner of the sofa.
Apparently he didn't need much.
"Now we will be ... it will be boring!"
Yep, they'll be bored.
"Tell me, my friends," I said heartily, leaning against the high back of the chair and trying to assume an imposing air, looked around at my fellow students, "what did you drink?"
"Oh sorry, Harry! Dean suddenly slapped his forehead, "but we drank your firewhiskey."
"What is 'my firewhiskey'?" I didn't understand.
"Yes, we... damn..." Dean continued to explain the situation haltingly, "You have… There was a bottle on the scattered tthing... Well, we thought..."
"We will return!" supported friend Finnigan.
And then I remembered - in the morning, in a frantic search for a Quidditch uniform, I unsuccessfully rummaged through the chest (and she hung on a chair, I cooked it myself in the evening so as not to look for it in the morning), and came across a long-forgotten bottle from the stash of my dad and company. In a hurry, apparently, and left it in plain sight.
Two and two formed in my head, and I felt wild laughter burst out of me.
"We divorced him a little," the same seventh-year student who reproached me for disrespecting the faculty told me confidentially, "there is still left. Come with us!
"Yes! To victory!" Someone quickly picked up.
"No," I shook my head, "thank you, I'd better go to sleep."
As soon as I entered our room, I burst into wild laughter, remembering how, having barely taken a sip of this swill, I walked until the evening like a young dog on a paddock. The four Marauders, with their truly boundless imagination, might well be smart enough to put some stimulant potion or something like that into someone's whiskey. I heard something about how alcohol enhances the effect of tranquilizers - perhaps this principle works here in a similar way.
"...In fact," Rem will tell me the next day with an unpedagogical giggle, "this is an unexpected side effect.
"By-effect?" I raised my eyebrows, "what was the original one supposed to be?"
"You'd better ask Sirius about this," Lupin advised me, snorting, "he will tell you how he and your dad experimented with alcohol intoxication enhancers."
Yes, you don't know anything about your parents. But what was the spectacle of my hungover classmates in the morning, quarreled to the nines with their girls... Needless to say, I did not reveal to them a terrible secret about what they drank. I told only my friends, and Lou and Hermione courageously took up the role of peacekeepers.
Exams jumped suddenly - it seems that there was still a lot of time before them, and now only a week. We (except for the happy Lou) completely drowned in our studies, forgetting about all the conspiracies and voldemorts. Passed the apparition test - Pat and Hermione passed it quite successfully. My friend later admitted to me that Snape even congratulated him on such a significant event. He looked surprised at the same time (Pat, not Snape). Then one day, during lunch, I received a note.
"A love message?" Ginny winked at me across the table.
"Yeah" I agreed, skimming through the short text, "from Professor McGonogall. My execution will take place tonight at eight o'clock in the evening. "Mr. Filch will be waiting in the Hall." I don't like this, Hermione," I turned to her.
"Well, like it, don't like it..." She said philosophically, looking at the note. "Be patient," my friend added sarcastically, materializing behind our backs.
"It's not me to Potter," Pat explained ingratiatingly to the heads turned to him and, bending down, kissed Lou on the cheek.
"I feel an exciting evening ahead of us," I chuckled.
The premonition did not deceive me. The evening was waiting for us - just hit it. By eight in the evening I went down to the Hall, where I met Filch. The caretaker's face expressed the joy of a maniac killer before another atrocity. I was turned over. From the side of the dungeons came Pat and Malfoy. They kept a safe distance from each other.
"Follow me!" Filch barked at us, and led us out of the castle.
The sun had almost set, and the soft May twilight was slowly descending. Contrary to the voice of reason, repeating that it was not for good that we were taken out here, as if to be shot, my heart began to beat in anticipation of some blood-stirring adventures. As then, in October, only the weather did not let us down now. True, I had to agree, in the company of Hermione is more interesting than with Malfoy. But Pat is here too.
As we crossed the yard, Filch kept muttering about what he would have done to us if the school had not abolished the old system of punishments (which included chains, whips, and other arsenal of a decent inquisitor), and assumed that this punishment would be so terrible, and will affect our psyche so strongly (I'm editing this, he doesn't even know such words) that we will immediately lose all desire to break the rules. Pat and I looked at each other cheerfully - the confidence that at school they could not force us to do something really dangerous did not leave us.
Jerks. But our colleague in misfortune looked gloomy and restless. Apparently he assumed the worst. Looking at his pale physiognomy, an amusing thought came to my mind that fate so often brings us together with him, as if catching up - after all, we actually should have met five years earlier.
"Don't be sad, Malfoy," Pat said cheerfully, "don't you understand yet? We will be digging glowing nocturnal flobber worms for directorial fishing."
He ignored him. In the meantime, we reached Hagrid's lodge. The owner himself was sitting on the steps, affectionately patting the crazy Fang behind the ear. On the forester's lap lay his huge crossbow.
"You were wrong, Pat," I chuckled nervously, "we'll be hunting vampires. You, I hope, grabbed an aspen stake?"
"No" my friend made a terrible eye and slapped his chest, "but I always have a holy crucifix with me!"
The funny thing is that it really was always with him. How Mrs. Random managed to get the incorrigible atheist Pat to wear a cross remained a mystery.
"Well, right now, let's wait for Professor Dumbledore, and let's go," Hagrid nodded cheerfully to us, "how are you?"
"Great," I smiled.
"Wh-where are we going?" Malfoy clarified, condescending to a conversation with mere mortals.
"To the Forbidden Forest," Filch chuckled wickedly.
"Oh, damn!" exclaimed Pat, striking his hand with an expression of sincere annoyance.
Malfoy paled.
"In the forest?" He asked, and his voice did not sound as indifferent as usual, "we can't go there at night "there are all these… Werewolves!"
This is where I got carried away.
I turned sharply to him and almost shouted:
"What werewolves, moron!" I pointed my finger at the sky, "do you see the full moon?!" Pat chuckled. A thin sickle of a dying moon hung in the sky.
"And you are absolutely right, Mr. Potter," I heard the headmaster's soothing voice behind me, "you don't need to be afraid of any werewolves. But, nevertheless, vigilance does not hurt us at all."
Professor Dumbledore had a knack for encouraging others...
"...I actually think so," Pat continued to rant, while we stomped in such a strange company through the Forbidden Forest, which, upon close acquaintance, did not seem so scary at all.
And, probably, only Pat Random could calmly, practically talk on equal terms with Professor Dumbledore on your favorite topic on the way to the very thicket. Actually, the director listened with genuine interest.
"...if there is no fundamental difference between the genetics of a magician and a Muggle, then, in principle, every person can do what is meant by the word "magic"."
At these words, Malfoy and I simultaneously stumbled. I have never heard of such an idea.
Dumbledore said in an extremely astonished tone:
"It's a truly revolutionary hypothesis, Patrick, and a very interesting one. But if Muggles are capable of magic, then why don't they?"
"Has anyone tried it?" Pat shrugged lightly, "but I probably didn't express myself quite accurately. I'm not saying that every Muggle will take a wand in his hand, cast a spell... No, that's more clear. Imagine," he continued decisively, "all people are able to sing and learn to play musical instruments. But some have an innate absolute ear for music, others need to learn, others need to study for a very long time and hard, and the fourth has gone completely over the ears. And, of course, there are deaf-mutes, for example. And magic is the same. After all, magic is the process of transforming the environment. Yes, take the same Transformations - the transformation of one state into another is the essence of all life on the planet. With our efforts, we only accelerate this process, or direct it in the right direction..."
I, as usual, when Pat spoke in non-scientific terms, listened. Pat knew how to build beautiful logical chains masterfully. I even forgot why we went to the Forbidden Forest. And we followed the trail of the wounded unicorn - they were again disturbed by incomprehensible creatures. Why it was up to delinquent students to hunt down a wounded animal, or why Dumbledore asked to walk with us, I had no idea. And the director, by the way, was also carried away by Patov's narration - he listened very carefully, occasionally grunting in his beard. Even Malfoy seemed to be listening.
"...and assuming that there is some criterion - something like... Threshold of sensitivity to nature. And this threshold of sensitivity for wizards is an order of magnitude lower than for Muggles. Therefore, we can interact and change the nature around us much easier than they do. But that doesn't mean they can't do what we can. Yes, even the wizards themselves differ in their level. Some can do more, some less. Just like there are practically no nugget magicians, everyone needs to learn. Muggles just need to learn more about it... And most likely in other ways."
"What do you suggest, Patrick?" The Headmaster asked calmly, but when I looked at him, it seemed to me that for a fraction of a second fear flickered behind the glasses, half-moons, "for the wizarding community to cancel the Status of Secrecy and open up to the Muggles?"
"What are you! No, it's over!" exclaimed Pat, and again it seemed to me that Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief.
"Because the war will start," I said unexpectedly to myself.
Everyone turned to me, and I decided to announce this thought aloud, which I had been thinking about for a long time.
"Can you imagine what happens then? If people find out that the world is still inhabited by magicians and witches of all stripes, as well as vampires, werewolves, dragons, centaurs and other evil spirits? And that they all hid and periodically erased the memory and powdered the brains of ordinary people? A person, of course, is reasonable, and when they come to him, wave a wand and say that their child is a magician, he perceives this as a fairy tale. But not the crowd. Then the church will raise its head. At once there will be those who will declare us all to blame for all the troubles of mankind - from pickpocketing at train stations to famine in Africa. In a flash, there will be bounty hunters - especially on the soil fertilized by horror films. And go and explain to them where the good witches are and where the bad ones are. That's when the war starts. And don't make a face like that, Malfoy, do you think the wizards will win? You have no idea about modern weapons, and these are not at all those intimidated people of the Middle Ages, afraid of their own shadow. And this is truly Armageddon. Such Twilight of the Gods will begin that the old Europe never dreamed of in a bad dream..."
Hagrid, leading the way, stopped. I doubt if he listened to our chatter.
"That's all, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he grumbled, looking gloomily at the forking path, "where he wounded he escaped - I don't know. We need to split up."