The last days before the exams have flown by. Teachers traditionally taught us at an increased pace and frightened us with the upcoming difficulties. Snape, every time he touched the exam, slyly grinned in my direction - he hoped to get rid of me as soon as possible. I'm not that dumb with Potions though. Especially for a person who tried to master a six-year program in one year. This is good for Pat - he has exact science at the level of reflexes. I was transformed in the Room of Requirementat the request of the girls-and they stared at me so intently that I would have blushed if it hadn't been for the horse. My friend turned out to be right - it was not very pleasant to turn into a room. I have never felt so clearly that there are blocks of stones around me, and there are seven floors under me. Yes, horses don't fly, unlike some... Pat insisted that the mane in my horse form stuck out in all directions in the same way as in my normal human form, my hair. But instead of a scar, I have a white mark on my forehead. In general, I'm so nothing, such a cute horse... But, nevertheless, the days passed surprisingly calmly. As we shall see later, this was the calm before the storm. The most interesting development was the end of Miss Vane's claim to be my girlfriend. I mean, I really hope that was the ending. My tactic was not ideal, but in this situation it worked perfectly. Recently, I began to favorably accept "signs of attention" - all these meaningful looks, smiles. To exchange a couple of pleasantries, blah blah blah... It seems like he surrendered to the mercy of the winner. The main thing in my plan was to assure her of the absolute surrender of the besieged fortress, and then...
"Hello," I lit up a bunch of fourth-year students with my non-Hollywood smile, and put my hand on Romilda's shoulder in a familiar way, "do you want to take a walk?"
The girls giggled as usual. - Want! Romilda blurted out with undisguised triumph in her voice and cast a proud look at her friends. We left the courtyard and walked along the path around the castle. I tried to walk along the least crowded paths.
"And where did you get the lovepoint from?"I asked curiously, "did you really cook it yourself?"
It's funny, like I'm asking her about the soup."
"Of course not," she said, not at all embarrassed, "I ordered from the Weasleys. They send it in perfume bottles. Smart, right?"
"Yeah, just brilliant," I agreed, still not taking my hands off her shoulder, "but oh well, they gave up on this incident. I love determined girls," I told her frankly.
"Truth?" Romilda lit up even more, thinking that I had complimented her.
I mentally took a deep breath - it was necessary to bring the matter to the end. The main thing is not to feel sorry for the stupid girl... Well, rely on a traditional wizarding upbringing, her own discretion, and my established reputation.
"Yes," I nodded and gave her the most appraising look I was capable of, "you know, and you look like one of my ex-girlfriends.
"Truth?" Enthusiasm at that time was sharply reduced.
"Yeah," I hooted thoughtfully, and frowned in mock memory tension, "only… Julia? Or Jess? I remember exactly that on Jay..."
"Yes, it's not so important," muttered Romilda, apparently only now noticing that my right hand had long since migrated to her waist.
"That's right," I agreed, continuing to rant, "at Hogwarts, all the girls are so conservative!" I was sincerely indignant, "but I generally like simpler girls, without complexes... Well, like you.
"Yeah," my main admirer replied, already completely without joy in her voice.
Her face did not shine with happiness from the realization of what kind of behavior I attributed her to the girls. At that moment, I realized that my plan had already worked. It remains only to wait until the end.
"Actually, Hogwarts is very boring," I said, as if not noticing the change in her behavior, "Quidditch is too rare. And so one study, no entertainment. Pat is all in a family showdown, Lou with Pat, Hermione..." I let out a disdainful snort, "Hermione is always busy with her lessons... So where am I going?"
I sighed, pressed her slightly lower back and added in a penetrating voice:
"It's like this for me lonely, you know?"
Romilda's look from triumphant at once turned into the look of a hunted rabbit...
"What did you do to her?" Pat asked me after breakfast, noticing how Romilda Vane was diligently getting around me at least ten yards.
"Nothing," I answered honestly, and added with a grin, "but, believe me, there was nothing that I would not suggest she do!"
Pat looked at me blankly for a minute, and then he laughed obscenely loudly. Students passing by looked at us.
"What did you tell her, child molester?" My friend asked, still laughing.
"Just what it takes to get her off me once and for all. She will know how to hit on guys older than her with an unknown past."
"Potter, you're a maniac. Even I wouldn't have thought of that. What if she didn't mind?"
"I relied on her prudence," I shrugged, remembering how quickly Romilda got rid of my company yesterday, finding a thousand reasons due to which we would not be able to have a second date before the start of the next school year.
I decided, apparently, that by the beginning of next year, such a windy one, I would already forget about its existence.
"And if she..." began Pat, but I interrupted him.
"Believe me," I said decisively, "I did everything to convince her that what was written about me in the newspapers was the absolute truth. And I think I succeeded."
Pat shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Lou and Hermione approached us. The first was in a traditionally high spirits, the second nervously straightened her hair, and from time to time began frantically leafing through notes. Half an hour later we started the theoretical exam on Transformations. And I have never felt such indifference before any exam.
"Hermione, don't worry," Lou advised, "you already know everything!"
"Never!" our excellent student looked at her sternly, "never say that! Those words make my head spin. Why are you so calm?"
Hermione looked at Pat and me suspiciously.
"Why should they worry?" Lu shrugged.
"You can't learn everything anyway," Pat added wisely.
"You won't breathe before you die," I finished, taking the notes from Hermione's hands, but she immediately snatched them back.
A day later, when I went down to breakfast, I discovered a frenzied hype around the fresh Prophet. It was a sinful thing to think that again something about me, but the tense faces and the general alarmed whisper convinced me. Something serious has happened.
"What happened?" I approached Hermione.
She turned to me.
"Werewolves attacked Rushden Bridge last night."
"What?" I was stunned and, sitting down next to her, skimmed through the article on the front page.
"Some kind of madness," I whispered, "just like that, for no reason, for no reason, did they attack?"
For some reason, I immediately thought of Lupine, who is now probably completely knocked out after the full moon. Because of this, the Defence against the Dark Arts exam will only be next week. If now at all, grimly added something inside me.
"There are a lot of wizarding families living in Rushden Bridge," Hermione said excitedly, "it's a miracle no one got hurt..."
"Excuse me?" I turned to her.
"I'm saying no one was hurt," Hermione repeated, "it says so in the paper."
"What, didn't you read it?
- What happens," I frowned, "a pack of werewolves, uncontrollable on a full moon, attacked the village, smashed everything they could, but did not bite anyone? Howled and ran away?"
"I'm telling you it's luck... Well, or," thought Hermione and added sullenly, "someone gave them a drink of the Wolfish Potion in advance and ordered them to simply scare the inhabitants."
"That's what I'm talking about," I agreed gloomily and began to eat, although I had no appetite at all.
On this day there was an exam in Charms - and I sat through the entire exam, as if on pins and needles - both the theoretical part before lunch and the practical part after. At lunchtime, we went to Rem's, but no one answered the knock on the door. I knew that he had already turned into a man, but after the full moon he spent almost a day in bed, and now he was gone. It seemed like a warning sign. After dinner, I found Rem in his modest abode. I came alone and found Lupin packing his bags. Seeing the werewolf busily and calmly gathering things, I even became dumb.
"Hi, Harry," Rem greeted wearily and, absentmindedly looking around his office, muttered, "will..."
"Are you going to the holidays ahead of time?" I tried to joke.
Lupine looked disgusting. A haggard gray face, dark circles under the eyes, a haggard look… He always looked bad after the transformations, but today he was especially gloomy.
"Have you read the morning paper?" Rem replied with a question.
"Of course," I snorted, "the guys and I believe that the attackers were drunk Wolfish..."
"Of course," Rem laughed with a strange expression on his face, "trust me, werewolves usually don't behave so well on a full moon. I already know. But the voice of reason in the Ministry traditionally does not want to listen, everyone has one thing on their lips - the werewolves are out of control! A clear tip from You-Know-Who! Idiots," Lupine cursed wearily, "and what do they even know about werewolves?"
I have never seen Rem in such a state - angry and powerless. Usually it was the opposite - he was gentle, kind, and tried to see the bright side in everything. Looking at his silent fees, I couldn't get a word out of me about his apparent dismissal. But as soon as I opened my mouth, Rem, as if reading my thoughts, gloomily said:
"This afternoon the Minister passed a number of amendments… Which includes registration of werewolves, control, ban on work and all that sort of thing. There is now a strong conviction in the government about the creation of special protected reserves... Dumbledore had not yet received direct instructions on my proper dismissal, but I decided not to wait until all this mess began. Moreover," he chuckled, "the director asked to urgently do something for him."
"Are you going to the werewolves?" I asked the first thing that came to my mind. Lupine turned around and looked into my eyes with a very attentive look.
"You know, Harry," he said seriously, "for your age, you know too much. And it's not always beneficial."
"Okay, what's there?" I looked down.
"Yes, I will indeed go to the other werewolves," Lupine said with a sigh, with a sad irony in his voice, "who else besides me can know what is going on there? They won't even talk to an ordinary wizard."
"And who will take the exam with us?" I asked a very idiotic question.
Lupine smiled for the first time all evening.
"Well, someone, yes, accept it. I knew from the very beginning for what reason I would be cured from here. Yes, I already broke all possible records, having lingered in a damned position for so long. No wonder they say - the curse does not stick to the damned. By the way," he exclaimed with the air of a man who has just remembered the most important thing, "I am no longer your teacher, so without a twinge of conscience I can give you this." He handed me the Marauder's Map.
I stared blankly at it for about half a minute, and then took it away, but did not put it in my bag.
"Wouldn't it be better," I said through force, struggling with myself, "wouldn't it be better to give it to the director?"
"Maybe," Rem shrugged his shoulders, and then suddenly smiled slyly, "but there are secrets that should remain secrets. She's as much yours as mine and... Look at her more often, you never know."
I breathed a sigh of relief and stuffed the Map into my bag. My conscience was clear.
"Rem, is there anything we can do for you?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied without thinking, "sit in the castle, study your exams, and, for God's sake, don't get into trouble!"
The news of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's dismissal spread around the school with typical Hogwarts speed, traditionally acquiring incredible rumors. Some said that Lupine himself resigned from office for reasons of principle - which was practically true; others said that Dumbledore kicked him out with a bang - supposedly the headmaster's conscience does not allow Lupin to teach children when people like him commit indecencies; still others claimed that the Minister himself, accompanied by a couple of Aurors, came to the school to personally fire and arrest the professor. The latest version was the most popular, although no one seriously believed in it. Lupine was a good teacher and everyone knew it. Not everyone loved him, but many were excited by the current state of affairs.
"What difference does it make whether he's a werewolf or not," Dean protested the next day at the dinner table, "everyone knows that Professor Lupin is a good person and an excellent teacher. You can't just leave it like that!"
"And what do you suggest?" I chuckled skeptically. "Submit a petition to the Ministry?"
"And what?" Ginny cheered. "Great idea. Let's collect signatures in support of the return of the professor to school!"
"Who will listen to the students?" Said Hermione wisely, "if the parents would cooperate, it would be at least something."
"All the same," Thomas persisted, "why didn't Dumbledore stand up for Lupin? He is a member of the Wizengamot and all sorts of commissions there..."
In any case, this event, coupled with the increasingly bitter policy of the Ministry, as the students learned about from the Daily Prophet and letters from their parents, created some kind of pre-stormy mood in Hogwarts. Most of the students walked around gloomy and thoughtful - no one really knew what was happening, but everyone felt that something should happen. Exams somehow faded into the background - the professors freaked out even more because of this. And "something" happened. Dean's words about Dumbledore resonated in some strange way. On Friday morning, before the Potions exam, the entire school read about Albus Dumbledore's removal as chairman of the Wizengamot and "all sorts of committees." The principal was not at the teaching table. "You know, Harry," Hermione admitted to me, "something I don't feel right about."
I couldn't even be glad that the questions were relatively easy - it was as if something cold and vile had settled inside me, which constantly pushed me to the same thought - everything around was collapsing, collapsing, collapsing...
It was as if the domino principle worked - the bones, clinging to one another, fell, causing an avalanche that could no longer be stopped. The anticipation of the culmination of this whole crazy year, something terrible and unknown, did not let me go, and I more and more retreated into myself. The days seemed gray despite the June sun, and I spent my nights among empty black dreams. Only Lou did not succumb to the general sullenness.
"Everything will be fine, you'll see," she assured me, "I firmly believe in it. But here my faith let me down."
It happened on a Saturday evening after dinner. I was urgently called to McGonogall. With bad premonitions, I went to her office, thinking about where the headmaster had mysteriously disappeared from the school again. Yesterday, closer to dinner, I saw him - I met him in the corridor. He was in a hurry somewhere, but managed to give me an encouraging smile, and then it turned out that I was the last one who saw him at Hogwarts before his next urgent departure. What was worse was that practically at the door of our deputy director, I met my best friend. We stared at each other for a minute, until Pat said:
"I don't like such coincidences."
We collected our thoughts and knocked. McGonogall's tense voice gave permission to enter, which we did. The face of our Professor of Metamorphosis expressed the readiness of a lioness before a mortal battle. She stood near the table, proudly straightening up to her full basketball height, arms folded on her chest, but she was looking not at us, but at another person who was in the room. He was identified as the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
"Hi," Pat said softly, but no one paid any attention to us.
"Mr. Minister," McGonogall said in a ringing voice, "you appeared and announced that Albus Dumbledore had been removed from his post as Headmaster of Hogwarts..."
"And I would also like to know where he is at this moment in time!" Fudge put in.
"And I would like to know why you need these children?!" McGonogall exclaimed indignantly.
"Children? snorted the Minister of Magic contemptuously. I have received information that these students have illegally become Animagus!"
