Professor McGonagall leaned back in her hard chair and looked at me over her glasses.
"You want to work at the Ministry of Magic? You had other plans during your fifth year, Miss Granger".
"That was in my fifth year, Professor McGonagall".
I didn't want to offend my favorite teacher, but over the past two weeks I managed to comprehend the wisdom of Jane Holly: "The truth is told when they are ready to listen to it." And Professor McGonagall was currently interested not in the political situation in wizarding Britain, but in completely different matters.
The Headmistress paused, then continued a little more formally:
"Very well, Miss Granger. From this day on, you are formally considered a student again. Therefore, if necessary, you can seek advice from any Hogwarts professor. I'll sign the papers. Wait a few minutes".
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," I said.
The last time I visited the Headmaster's office was about a year ago, before leaving Hogwarts. Since then, little has changed here: the magic devices were still buzzing and ticking; behind the glass doors of the cupboard, the Pensieve shimmered with oily reflections; former headmasters dozed in heavy frames. However, Phineas Nigellus defiantly left the portrait as soon as I stepped over the threshold of the room. I never liked him either. Professor Dumbledore looked asleep in his painted chair, but I was sure that he heard and analyzed every word of our conversation.
"May I know in what form Professor Snape has prepared you for your exams?" McGonagall asked without looking up from her papers.
It took me a moment to realize that there was no ambiguity in the question. All because of Ginny, who had generated a record number of hints in recent weeks. Immunity to them was hard to develop, but ridicule and uncomfortable questions were better than the restrained and tactful Mrs. Potter, who met me in the morning in an empty drawing room in Grimmauld Place:
"Hi!" Ginny greeted me calmly. - "Do you want some tea?"
"Hi. I'd like some, yes," I agreed.
"Sit down," Ginny suggested, and touched the teapot on the table with her wand. - Have you eaten anything at all today? Or yesterday?"
"I have. We had dinner. And breakfast..."
Ginny raised her eyebrows, showing slight interest.
"You. Had. Dinner. And breakfast. Obviously. And… between dinner and breakfast?"
"And between dinner and breakfast," I replied, "we talked about the peculiarities of the legislature of magical Britain, the possible secret motivations of some Australian officials and British Potion Masters, and the secondary housing market for wizards in the Battersea area".
"Fascinating," Ginny agreed. "Is it possible to tell me the story in normal English?"
"Snape has lived on the same street as me since the beginning," I chose. –"In house across from me".
Ginny digested the news for a few seconds, then shrugged.
"And I was the last to know about it. As always".
"No. Ron didn't know about it either. And Harry only recently found out. And… where are the guys now? And what happened here yesterday?"
"He and Harry are tearing the practice room apart. Since the morning. Kreacher says everything is within the normal limits so far. And yesterday we had a quiet family evening. If Snape and Ron had not had a fist fight in the dining room, then there would be nothing to remember about it".
" A duel?" An unpleasant chill crept up my back, but just at that moment Ron entered the room, followed by Harry.
"Don't listen to her," said Ron outright. - "She's talking codswallop now. There was no duel, there was a fruity discussion. I mean fruitful. Harry will confirm".
Harry shyly smiled, stepped towards me, hugged me tightly:
"I missed you," he said simply. - "Welcome back!"
"Miss Granger?"
Professor McGonagall's puzzled face brought me back to reality.
"Sorry," I smiled. "It was a lot of potions practice and advice on other subjects".
Professor McGonagall pushed aside another parchment in annoyance and tapped her quill on the table.
"I'm glad you decided to take your final exams, Miss Granger. But I categorically refuse to understand a teacher with twenty years of experience giving only private lessons when his school is on the brink of disaster".
"Disaster?" I asked.
McGonagall nodded dryly.
"The parents of our students don't have the same trust in Hogwarts anymore. More than half of the current first-years have chosen homeschooling or other institutions. And it's easy for me to understand why. If we don't rectify the situation in the next couple of years…" She looked back at Professor Dumbledore's portrait and fell silent.
"Do you think Professor Snape's return will change the situation?"
"Professor Snape's headship would!" said Professor McGonagall. "He could bring Slytherins back to this school!"
Of course. Headship, Potions, patrolling the corridors at night... Hogwarts requires ones full dedication. I tried to imagine the current Professor Snape as Head of Slytherin, and I succeeded. It was too easy. From this, my mood deteriorated sharply, and the desire to see that same professor right now, without waiting for the evening, became almost unbearable.
"The date of the exams will be announced to you later," Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses and asked in a different tone: "Do you know that the Weasley brothers bought Zonko's?"
"Yes. George gave Ron a birthday surprise. We're going there today".
"Give them my congratulations and let both Misters Weasley know that I'll call on them shortly to sort out a few things."
"I'll pass it on with pleasure, Professor."
Professor McGonagall smiled slightly at the corners of her lips, and I immediately guessed what would follow.
"Happiness suits you, Miss Granger. And the fact that you and Mr. Weasley overcame your difficulties is one of the pieces of best news of this year".
"Thanks! Ron is great", I agreed. "He was and still is my best friend".
Watching Professor McGonagall's slowly fading smile, I thought that the phrase had every chance of becoming my favorite in any conversation in the next few weeks. Maybe it makes sense to use Occlumency? It is unlikely that a blank expression on my face will stimulate questions about my personal life ...
"Here are your papers, Miss Granger," the Headmistress returned to her official tone, "and take Mr. Longbottom...Professor Longbottom with you to Hogsmeade. You will find him in the greenhouses. He works so enthusiastically that I'm afraid he forgot about his day off. That's really someone who gives himself to the school restraint! "
In those last words, I heard accusatory notes. Professor McGonagall stood up, signaling that the conversation was over.
"Have fun! If you have no more questions..."
"Actually, I have," I sighed. "Do I understand correctly that Hogwarts immortalizes in portraits only those headmasters who remained in their post until the end of their lives?"
Professor McGonagall was clearly taken aback.
"No ... Why the sudden interest?"
"Purely academic interest," I lied.
"In some cases," the Headmistress looked around at the portraits on the walls of the office, "the portrait may appear at Hogwarts by decision of the Board of Governors. As a recognition of the headmaster's services to the school and the magical community.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall, that's pretty much what I thought. Goodbye," I muttered, hardly able to refrain from commenting on the degree of objectivity of the decisions of the Board of Governors and the place where I would like to see these decisions. I think a certain Potions professor is a bad influence on me.
A moving staircase brought me down to the entrance to the tower. There I was forced to moderate my irritation and take up navigating the halls: a dense stream of schoolchildren almost knocked me off my feet. After a while, I realized that the main part of the crowd was moving towards the exit, and I could only go with the flow. Recognizing me, some first-year students were embarrassed and politely greeted me, older students called out, asked me questions, and shared news. When I stopped a Hufflepuff fifth-year, I found out that Neville had been in the small greenhouses since morning.
The entrance doors of the castle were open. Together with the schoolchildren, I was taken out into a snow-covered yard. I shivered from the cold - real winter still reigned here. It cleared my head right away. Why am I upset? If the Professor wants to come back here, then he will. If he wants to be a Headmaster, he will. Three weeks ago, it was enough for me to know that Severus was all right, even if he was on the other side of the Earth.
"You couldn't find someone decent", the Severus Snape in my mind sighed smugly, and I again felt the dizzy and indecently enthusiastic happiness that hadn't left me for the last three weeks.
For the first time this feeling appeared in That-Morning, after That-Evening, when I suddenly woke up under a warm blanket on the sofa in the library. The moment of transition of evening into morning was not preserved in my memory. I probably fell asleep mid-sentence in the middle of my story about the mischievous Australian Jane Holly. Sunlight filtered through the curtain. The master of the house was not in the room, but there was a note on the table:
"In the laboratory".
"He gets up early, but he doesn't like mornings ... Most likely, he will sit down to read laboratory journals," I remembered my words and laughed.
The hallway was cool and dark. My feet immediately froze. But in front of the laboratory doors, I hesitated. Do the old rules still apply? Is it only possible to enter the laboratory with the direct permission of the Professor? And what should I call him now? And in general ... did I dream all this?
"Good morning," I heard a deep and reserved voice from behind the door. - "Come in".
I went in and shivered. It was even colder here. Professor Snape was not sitting reading journals at all, but was brewing some kind of potion. A small fire under a boiling cauldron did not warm the room at all.
"Three minutes," Snape said without taking his eyes off the cauldron.
I stepped closer. His face was concentrated, the movements of his hands were clear, restrained. Beautiful ... It was always interesting to watch the Professor in the process of work. But today, far from platonic feelings were mixed with my admiration. To divert my mind from these thoughts, I shifted my gaze to the tray of ingredients.
Rue. Hop. Hawthorn. Hellebore. Salamander skin. And the cooling charm in the room.
"A life-giving elixir?" I asked quietly, waiting for a pause in his actions.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the surface of the potion.
"An adaptogen. You spent a month in summery Australia. It's February here... And yesterday you sat at an open window for half an evening. I don't have to be a Seer to predict a cold on its way. This will make it easier to avoid it".
"I like the way you grumble." I yawned and stretched. - "This is very cozy".
Severus's hands froze for a moment.
"Sit in a chair. The floor is cold," he asked in a flat voice.
This was the least likely conversation that could happen on the morning after a romantic evening. The Professor gave me orders, brewed potions and didn't look in my direction.
But inside me, happiness grew steadily.
Finding Neville was easy. A fresh path of his footprints led to the second greenhouse, and the door was ajar.
An assistant professor of Herbology and a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was cutting a small plant, which, upon closer inspection, I recognized as a Flutterby bush.
"Hello, Neville. Have you forgotten that we're going to Zonko's today?"
Neville waved at me with a tiny pair of scissors in it.
"Hey Hermione, I haven't! What are you doing here? "
"I was in a meeting with the Headmistress. I've reenrolled at Hogwarts. I will take my final exams. So, technically, you, Professor Longbottom, are now my teacher".
"This is great! And it's great that you came to visit! I'm already finishing. If you don't crown the bushes immediately after transplanting them, their foliage will not tremble properly".
"Lovely. Is this a present for Ron and George?"
"No," Neville hesitated for some reason. - "It's not for them. For the boys, I've raised a Puffapod. It looks good and explodes beautifully. I'll show you!"
He dived into the green thickets, pulled out a large bush strewn with orange fruits, and threw one such bean on the ground. It clacked softly, scattering rainbow sparks.
"This. It's great, right? Can you help me shape it?"
After a couple of minutes, the Flutterby bush found its perfect shape, the packed Puffapod moved into Neville's pocket, and we, having warmed up well, headed for Hogsmeade.
The road was unusually busy. We were constantly overtaken by groups of schoolchildren. Some of them didn't seem old enough to be in third year. I asked Neville what that meant.
He shrugged.
"Everything is changing. Students whose parents live in Hogsmeade can now spend their weekends at home. We got Billy Taft, Ellie Wright, Mary Mason and Jimmy McMillan with that trick. Professor McGonagall wasn't very happy when the others followed, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that. And the parents of some children now specifically rent rooms at the Three Broomsticks to see them on weekends. True, those kids are sometimes laughed at. But you know, if my parents could come visit school to see me, I would not care about ridicule ..."
Neville's voice broke off and I looked away, wanting to sink through the ground. Severus was very clear: "No promises."
"How…are they…your parents?"
" Stable… I hate it when people say that. But there is nothing more to report".
I patted his shoulder and we just walked in silence for a few minutes. Then Neville spoke evenly and distantly.
"I brought my parents a Flutterby bush about two weeks ago. I thought that this way the ward would look less like a hospital. And Mum ... was delighted, or something? It's hard to judge. But it looked like she was happy. And then she cried. For the first time. I understand everything about them, but I still hope ..."
We were interrupted because we were overtaken by a company of three boys. They politely greeted, Neville waved his hand and turned to me with his usual smile.
"The boy in the red cap is Jimmy Macmillan, Ernie's brother. His parents didn't want to let him go to Hogwarts. I went to their house three times to persuade his parents. Then I promised they could see each other on weekends. And so it all turned around. Although I got hit hard by McGonagall for exceeding my authority".
"You're doing great, Neville. A true reformer," I said, relieved. "Now I understand why George was on fire with the purchase of Zonko's. There will be much more buyers here than in Diagon Alley".
"The Headmistress is horrified," Neville grinned. "And getting ready for massive trouble. And it seems to me that the castle absolutely needs small pranks and small cataclysms".
He bent down, rolled up a snowball and threw it at me.
"Ah, really, Professor Longbottom? Protect yourself!"
The snow was wet, our hands instantly froze, but the snowballs were excellent to throw. We fooled around for several minutes, practicing our marksmanship and non-verbal shield charms, until the station and Hogsmeade appeared around a bend in the road. I slipped on the icy path, barely staying on my feet, and Neville gallantly offered me his hand. We entered the village, like serious adults, one of whom was also a teacher.
"Will Hannah meet us at Zonko's?"
"She promised she would try. The Leaky Cauldron is full of visitors on Saturday, and Tom isn't getting any younger. We will be a harmonious family: I am busy during the week, she is busy during the weekend. For the first ten years, we definitely won't get bored with each other. Isn't that the secret to a happy marriage?"
"You are a philosopher," I chuckled. "Have you already proposed to her?"
"I did," Neville confirmed. - "Before that, Gran grumbled that I would leave her without great-grandchildren, and now she is coming up with reasons to postpone the wedding. I don't understand her. But we'll still get married. So don't plan any long trips in August. And Hannah wants to invite the Professor".
There was only one professor on my mind, but Neville didn't need to know that, so I clarified:
"The Professor? Which professor?"
"Snape, of course. Do you think there is a chance he'll come?"
"If you don't ask him, you'll never know," I replied, holding back a stupid smile. - "Ask him!"
"I'll do that," Neville nodded, obviously about to ask me something, but instead exclaimed, "Oh, there's Hannah! Sorry, we'll be back a little later".
In an instant, he was out of sight.
It was a bit weird and awkward going to Ron Weasley's. For many years in a row we arranged all our holidays and parties together: in the Burrow, on Grimmauld Place, in the drawing room of Hogwarts and again in the Burrow. Then the holidays became difficult. Then it became difficult with us ... And then suddenly everything just worked out. And that turned out to be the hardest thing.
The former Zonko's store was now visible from afar. On the roof of the house there was a huge burgundy top hat, through the fields of which a toy Hogwarts Express drove, and a hare, judging by its crazy appearance, a March Hare, protruded from the window in the crown. A poster on the door announced that, to the deep regret of the owners, the store would only be open today until one in the afternoon.
It was noisy, cramped and fun inside. Ron waved at me from behind a counter that said "Hogwarts Electronics" above it and continued talking to the two boys in front of him. I approached him.
"These things are called "batteries," Ron showed the goods with a gesture of a magician, "they will have to be changed sometimes. Now remember. First, activate the reflector, and only then - turn on the playback. If you get confused, the device will break".
Ron confirmed his words with an action: he turned on the player (a rather old-fashioned model) and jammed the headphones on one of the boys. Enthusiastic surprise immediately appeared on his face, and his hands began to rummage through the pockets of his robes in search of Galleons.
When the purchase moved into the hands of a happy Wizarding native, Ron looked at his watch, winked at me and pulled the cord above the counter:
"Dear customers, the store closes in five minutes!" said a pleasant female voice from somewhere in the ceiling. - "Hurry up and make your choice!"
Dissatisfied exclamations were replaced by turmoil, a queue formed at the counter. George appeared next to Ron from nowhere.
"Oi, Hermione! That's it, brother, march away from the guests, I'll finalize the orders! "
Ron breathed a sigh of relief and looked at me shyly.
"Hi! I didn't think that I would wish that there were fewer buyers. They sweep away all the new goods so quickly ... Let's go. Ginny has just arrived, and Luna and Angelina have been here since morning. They volunteered to help".
"You could have asked me too," I reproached, and was upset: both from the fact that I didn't think of offering help myself, and from the fact that Ron did without it.
" I was going to, and then I thought that you need to study for your exams. Do you want to wash the dishes together?"
"At least that's something," I laughed. "By the way, we walked from Hogwarts with Neville. But half way here, he saw Hannah..."
"Neville saw Hannah, their eyes met, and…" Ron nodded knowingly and looked a lot like George. "I see, they're kissing somewhere in the backyard. It's some kind of epidemic. Everyone's kissing. Snape isn't coming?"
The last sentence was remarkably casual. I shook my head.
"On Saturdays, he works on his project with the mental erasers from the Ministry".
"I see," Ron repeated again. "What about Neville's parents?"
"Said that whoever gave Longbottom hope would treat his parents themselves. The potion is too tox... well...poisonous".
"Well, Snape is smart, he'll come up with something anyway," Ron sighed and rubbed his jaw.
The legendary fight, about which I have heard only fragmentary mentions from the direct participants in the events, ended in a kind of truce. Severus Snape and Ronald Weasley now spoke of each other with exaggerated respect, and scathing attacks were replaced by recognition of merit and various virtues. I suspected that they would not last long, but so far everything was fine, so I simply agreed:
"He'll figure it out. Come on, tell me where you've been lately".
"Are you bored?" said Ron, tacking between the boxes in the narrow half-dark corridor. "And I didn't disappear at all. Didn't we see each other last week? See you! George, of course, came up with a great idea with the purchase, a chic gift, and it was impossible to miss such a chance, but this branch is such a drag! Look how much has not been taken apart! Here. Come in".
Ron opened the door to the utility room. The small room resembled the hall of a cozy cafe: a table with impeccable serving, low sofas with colorful pillows along the walls, a bright inscription in the air of flickering sparks: "Happy Birthday, Ron!" Well, here they got along just fine without me.
At the moment, Ginny's loud voice disturbed the cozy homely atmosphere somewhat. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, angrily arguing with Luna and Angelina.
"Oh, Hermione," she said matter-of-factly by way of greeting. "Now tell me, should I play Quidditch?"
"Yes," I answered cautiously. - "only if you want to, of course!"
Angelina shook her head wearily.
"I just asked if she was going to delay her comeback for another season. And this is where it started..."
"Ginny gets angry when asked that question," Luna said placidly, "because she hasn't made up her mind yet. We must give her time".
Ginny frowned.
"Puddlemere United poached three first string players from the Harpies. So I don't have time. If I want to play and not sit on the bench, then the day after tomorrow I need to be at their training camp".
"I definitely vote for Quidditch," Ron interrupted. — "Your energy must be used for peaceful purposes. Harry will understand. This will do you good. The charm of waiting, the sharpness of feelings in separation, all that. Pack your bags, sis".
Ginny glared at Ron for a second, then shook her head decisively.
"But you're right! I'll go!"
At this point, the discussion of the topic abruptly ended, because Harry and George burst into the room and dragged on in discordant voices: "Happy birthday to you ..."
"Are you still angry with me?" Harry asked softly, waiting for Ginny to start talking to Hannah.
Everyone scattered in the corners. Neville was talking to Ron and George, waving his glass of butterbeer. Luna showed Angelina photos from one of her expeditions.
"No," I sighed. "But don't relax. One day I will have my revenge on you, Harry Potter. Caring and ruthless".
Harry only made a comical gesture with his hands, demonstrating the resignation to his fate.
"Are you… all right?" he asked. "I mean, don't you regret that…"
There was no continuation. The victor of Voldemort was embarrassed and fell silent.
"I hope it wasn't Professor Snape who gave you the task of scouting the situation?" I snorted. — "At your harsh Friday gatherings?"
Harry chuckled.
"I can imagine that picture," he parodied Professor Snape's skeptical expression in a rather similar way, and immediately laughed. "Although… No. I can't imagine it... Hey, wait, are you jealous?"
I myself was interested. The topic provided inexhaustible material for introspection, but it was unlikely that Harry expected to hear a detailed essay in response.
"A little," I finally decided. "It seems to me that I'm standing on tiptoe in front of him so as not to seem too young, naive, stupid, inaccurate, enthusiastic, whatever ... And you just ... come visit him every Friday. And he is waiting for you".
Harry chuckled, shook his head and said nothing.
I glanced at Ginny, made sure she wasn't listening to our conversation, and blurted out a question that had been tormenting me for a long time:
"Are you jealous? I mean because of your mum? You do realize that I'm not a replacement for her, right? Understand?"
It sounded just just as stupid, inaccurate and naive when it was said out loud. Harry winced and rolled his eyes.
"For a long time I didn't understand what was happening between you two," he admitted. - "And then you handed me a book with a flying cat, and everything fell into place ... No, I'm not jealous".
I liked that conclusion.
"Thanks, Harry. What is a common thing between a cat and a bat? Or am I not understanding something?"
He looked at me puzzled and muttered:
"Well, it's wings… Okay… Uh, Ginny, is there still mead in the bottle?"
Ginny lifted the bottle and nodded.
"But this is the last bottle. Bring mugs. We will share it".
Everyone crowded around the table again. Neville hugged Hannah calmly and confidently. George jokingly tried to push Angelina away from the mead, explaining that after the third mug she always started to spring clean, and he was completely unprepared for this. Ginny was constructing an alternative styling on Ron's head. Harry and Luna laughed at them... Did we succeed? The war is actually over and we can just live and not survive? And rejoice during the holidays without turning them into a commemoration of the dead...
"I bet it's Leaky Cauldron mead," Hannah said authoritatively as she took another sip. "Tom didn't say you made an order".
"I bought it today. You weren't in the pub anymore." Ron smiled slyly. "Sorry, I didn't calculate the right quantity. Perhaps I'll look in at the Cauldron, I'll order some more".
"And butterbeer," said George. "And chocolate cauldrons. I don't know where Tom buys them, but they taste better than Flume's".
"Wait. How are you going to carry it through the Floo?" Neville was surprised. - "Let me help".
Ron waved his hand vaguely and flung open the door of a narrow closet near the door.
"Tom, can we have a case of butterbeer, three meads and chocolate cauldrons?" he called inside.
"A case of butterbeer, three meads and chocolate cauldrons," said Tom Abbott's voice from somewhere. "Right away, gentlemen!"
There was an awkward silence, broken by Ginny's voice.
"A talking closet?"
"You are gravely mistaken, Madam," George gave Ginny a buffoonish bow and proclaimed, "Allow me to introduce you to the forgotten past and the bright future of magical Britain - the Weasley and Weasley get-through cabinets. A private alternative to the Floo network! No stranger will fall out of the closet onto your carpet in the living room by saying the wrong address! Convenience and safety for everyone. No discomfort while moving. Suitable even for babies and pregnant women! Just pay for installation and move it for free until you get bored! And by the way, we are not going to "push" this on anyone. They will come and ask for it themselves".
The back of the cupboard melted away, and Tom Abbott strode into the room, impassive, with three bottles of mead on a tray and a box of chocolates under his arm.
" Good afternoon to you all. Neville, son, take this".
He handed the bottles to Neville, went back through the back wall to the Leaky Cauldron, and returned with a case of butterbeer. It was simple and effective. Even Luna looked intrigued. Hannah, Ginny and Angelina were asking questions. George was happy to explain. Only Harry stood with an impenetrable expression on his face. I touched the wall and felt the familiar tingling of my fingers. Ron looked at me expectantly.
"How did you check if it would work? Smuggling stuff through? Did you take out the door in a sock and the key in a Carnegie book?" I asked. - "Does Nikas know about this?"
"Always that surprised tone with me," Ron sighed. I didn't take anything out. "Papandopoulos loves to talk and show off. When he said that the inventor of the door was a Pom and first sold cabinets with secret passages, I began to listen more carefully to him. And then he wrote to George to visit Borgin and Burke's and buy the rest of them ..."
"The Vanishing Cabinet!" — the idea lit me up. "But this is…"
"Well, yes," Ron sighed a second time. "I know what you were thinking. But you said yourself that if Voldemort used a Summoning Charm, then this did not make it dark. That cabinet and its inventor are not to blame either, that Malfoy is a bastard. Long story short, George was tinkering with the cabinet and surreptitiously shopping for the store, Nikas was chatting, and I..."
"And Ron was spying for the good of wizarding Britain and his purse," George said. "Don't frown, Hermione. We didn't do anything illegal or cast any dark magic. Borgin, just in case, snitched on us immediately after the purchase. Auror Potter came and brought company. And what did the test show, Harry?"
"It's all clear, Hermione. Harry reluctantly admitted. - "The portkey is built from scratch. There's not a chip or a spell from that cabinet".
"It's a trial copy," George continued. "But Mr. Abbott has already ordered two. I'm sorry, Hannah, we asked you to keep this a secret. Mum told me that during the First Wizarding War, wizards still had these things in case of a possible escape. But now we will advertise them exclusively as convenient transport. It remains only to obtain permission from the Department of Transportation. And then we'll go down in history!"
"Brilliant idea," I admitted. "Of course, wizards are conservatives and will not rush to order dozens of your doors at once, but in the future this may become a transport revolution!"
"Doors are a little Australian thing," said George, and uncorked a fresh bottle of mead. - "This cabinet! We will go down in history through the good old cabinet! But I agree about brilliant ideas! Say it often, especially to him." He pointed at Ron.
"To Ron Weasley, George Weasley and the transportation revolution!" said Harry, raising his glass. And everyone repeated the toast with pleasure.