Night, silence, peace, and only the flames in the fireplace filled the empty house common room with soft pops and crackles. Sitting in a comfortable armchair, reclining against the backrest, I watched the dance of the flames, catching the wild interplay of pale light and thick shadows on the walls out of the corner of my eye. The mug of hot chocolate in my hands soothed me with its warmth, as did the rich aroma wafting through the air.
Contemplation is the facet of my being through which I find rest. There are many reasons for this. Childhood was a beloved time when I truly enjoyed observing. This habit carried over into adulthood, if I remember correctly. The Elf shard, it seems to me, reinforced this habit. Or perhaps the Elf came before me, and it was from him that I acquired this trait. That is, if one assumes that these shards of soul and memory once belonged to me. The Dwarf was also quite the "contemplator," though his greatest desire was to enjoy the sight of a finished creation, its perfection, its functionality. To enjoy the work done.
Perhaps for this reason, I sometimes pay attention to the turning of the year, the transitional stages between each season. When snow falls, I go and look at the landscapes. When the snow melts, I spend at least half an hour examining the gloomy patterns of the forest and mountains. When the first buds bloom, I make sure to witness it. When the weather shifts from sunny to rainy, I breathe deeply, catching every note of the changed scents.
And so now I sit in silence, resting from diligent work on Hermione's project, enjoying the peace, while the spiders scattered around the castle pick up almost the same quietude. Contemplating the results of my training is priceless to me. Perhaps that is why I train on such a rigorous schedule. Training physically and magically. To see the success, the result, which I achieve with my capabilities much sooner than I could if I were just an ordinary Muggle-born boy. Yeah...
A signal from one of the spiders tore me from my contemplative state, and I stopped staring blankly at the fire in the hearth. Okay, seems like something interesting; I'll listen in.
"...tomorrow, in Hogsmeade," spoke the familiar voice of Nott.
Right, where is the spider? Aha, one of the secluded and quiet spots not far from the Slytherin common room.
"Do you think there's any point?"
"Don't ask questions," Nott replied with a note of dissatisfaction to a boy's voice I didn't recognize. "I only have to say one word to my father, and yours will be thrown out of his job with a terrible reference."
"So what's the plan?"
"There have to be several. That Mudblood bug is too cunning. For starters—potions. He'll surely stop by the Three Broomsticks. Distracting him and slipping something in while hiding under an Invisibility Cloak is child's play."
"Suppose so," agreed the unknown student, and judging by his voice, he was an upper-year.
"We need to try planting a cursed object on him. That should work," Nott replied with slight doubt. "And also, we could try to ambush him and beat the crap out of him."
"That's unlikely..."
"What did you say?"
"It's been tried... Didn't work."
"So, you mean to say," Nott hissed viciously, "that some Mudblood is stronger than pureblood wizards? It's one thing when we're talking about our age group—we still don't know much."
"I'm telling it like it is."
Silence.
"Strange," Nott drawled doubtfully. "Homenum Revelio!"
He suddenly shouted the spell, and after that silence fell, broken only by the sound of two quiet breaths.
"No one. Do you get the feeling we're being eavesdropped on?"
"This is Hogwarts. Even the walls can have ears."
Without saying another word, they left the spider's range. At such a distance, I couldn't really transmit the command "follow them," and besides, I had heard enough. So, Nott has started to stir up trouble? But has he been stirring it up before this moment? On the other hand, does it really matter?
Drawing my wand and casting Tempus, I decided to head to bed—one-thirty in the morning. Of course, I don't feel like a little kid who has to go to sleep, but I do feel a responsibility for my own progress, which I enjoy, albeit not to the point of ecstasy.
. . . . . .
The dishes served for breakfast in the Great Hall were quite hearty, essentially as always. But the students were extremely active, excited, and full of anticipation, because today they could spend almost the entire day in Hogsmeade, and it should be nice there now—a sea of snow suddenly fell at night, covering everything around the castle.
After breakfast, the students, myself included, went quickly to the common rooms to change, get money, or whatever else, after which, by eleven o'clock, everyone gradually gathered in the courtyard before leaving the castle. I noticed Daphne quite quickly. This time she had deftly broken away from the other Slytherins, and was now standing in the gallery, by one of the columns, carefully looking around. I myself was standing in a place no less hidden from everyone, and in the end, I couldn't resist, accelerating my consciousness and my magic to the maximum.
Closing my palms over each other, I began to earnestly direct energies there, concentrating them between my palms. With the edge of my consciousness, still unused in the process of full concentration, I noted that if not for my control of energies, a rather powerful magical outburst would have been unavoidable. The concentration of energies between my palms grew, and it was good that they were tightly closed, otherwise the dim light from the energy would definitely have burst out. Or maybe not.
What was I doing? Pure will magic. The kind it could be for local wizards if the brain were developed much more. No crutches, no formulas, no gestures and so on—only fantasy, imagination, spatial thinking, concentration... In general, emphasis on mental and physiology.
In my head was the image of a small, thin metal snake with blue eyes. Protect, guard, obey—these were the images spinning in my head while creating the thin bracelet. Protect and guard. And all this was superimposed on the image of Daphne. The concentration was definitely off the charts, and the flow of energy from the body was extremely large, even for me, but I did not give up.
At one fine moment, everything ended. I literally felt with my mind that the process was over, and the metal lying on it cooled my right palm. Opening my eyes, which closed unintentionally in the process, I looked at the object—a small thin snake coiled in a spiral on my palm, and its eyes were closed. Just a spiral, but if you look closely, you can easily see an extremely detailed object.
A drop of blood fell on my hand. Bringing the fingers of my left hand to my face, I felt moisture under my nose. Looked closely at the trace left on my hand—blood. Just a little concentration, and I was already healed, but this was a real wake-up call—overexerted. Need to avoid this, as Smethwyck advised. Yes, the course of restorative potions has been drunk, no injuries remained, but the adaptation process itself is still going on, and I shouldn't act so stupidly anymore.
Lightly squeezing the snake in my hand, I glanced at the gallery opposite—Daphne was still there. It's amazing how the mere fact of the existence of one girl can for a brief moment crush sanity and rationality. But the image of a brunette hiding behind a column in a dark blue winter cloak, with a black thin fur collar, a blue scarf, and a beret on her head is simply incapable of leaving me indifferent. Contemplation... Perhaps that is why I approached her a year and a half ago.
Covering myself slightly with a light misdirection of the eyes, I left the gallery and headed towards Daphne through the courtyard, maneuvering in the already gathered crowd of students. Entering the gallery where the lonely figure of the Slytherin stood, I approached her, simultaneously removing the misdirection from myself. When I almost approached, she turned sharply, looking at me with wide-open blue eyes.
"You bypassed the alarm?"
"Hmm... And hello to you too," I smiled, coming closer. "You look wonderful."
Daphne quickly and keenly looked over my clothes, ordinary but quite strict, in black and blue tones.
"And you're not bad," she nodded with a slight smile.
Daphne quickly looked around, no less quickly overcame the step separating us, boldly grabbed me by the collar, simultaneously blushing at the ears from her own audacity, and elusively, lightly and quickly kissed me, immediately pulling away, taking control of herself so that even the blush from her ears began to fade instantly.
"It sometimes seems to me," I tilted my head slightly to the side, "that you are shy of me."
"Sigh..." Daphne sighed. "I thought you understood..."
"I understand, but as some Christian would say, God gave us a mouth and the gift of speech not to be silent."
Daphne looked at me with a thoughtful gaze. A light breeze brought with it a heap of small snowflakes that settled as dots on her collar and hair.
"It's one thing to communicate and work together, even expressing sympathy. Another... to do stupid things. I'm not ready to face the dissatisfaction of the entire house and parents... I... Am wary."
"I understand," I smiled, holding out my hand, in which lay the coiled snake. "This is for you."
"What is this?" Daphne leaned slightly with undisguised interest, examining the snake.
"A gift. A small magical thing intended to protect and guard you."
Daphne took out her wand, pointed it at the snake, and made a couple of passes. True, she came to her senses, but the deed was already done.
"You don't mind?" she asked with slight hope in her eyes.
"Of course not. Check. I even approve."
The girl nodded and made a couple more passes. Putting away the wand, she accepted the gift with a slight smile, taking the snake in her hand. It immediately opened its blue eyes, looking at Daphne and spreading its thin metal body of tiny scales.
"Daphne, mentally ask it to wrap around your arm like a bracelet."
The girl nodded, a second, and the snake quickly crawled under the sleeve, and Daphne put her other hand on her wrist, as if checking. It seems Daphne didn't even notice herself how she pressed her hands to her chest, looking into nowhere and smiling.
"Students!" McGonagall's commanding voice rang out. "I remind you..."
Her usual lecture began about behavior and that trips to Hogsmeade are a privilege that must not only be earned but also not lost.
"Let's go," I offered my hand, and Daphne immediately grabbed it with a satisfied smile on her face. Satisfied, albeit weak. Weak, but bright.
Together with the other students, we left the Hogwarts grounds in a large crowd. The snow crunched under everyone's feet, turning into a merged symphony of noise. The path was swept over during the night, and McGonagall simply walked ahead of everyone, holding her wand in front of her, and paving the way with magic, simultaneously making a wide path of tightly packed but not slippery snow.
At the entrance to the village itself, the sharp roofs of whose houses were hidden under snow caps, our huge group stretched out enough for Daphne and me to disappear unnoticed around the corner of one of the houses.
"Remember the spells?" she asked, although even by the expression on her face one could understand that the question was rhetorical.
"Of course."
Already ten seconds later, not brunettes came out from around the corner of the house, but a couple with pale, blond hair, slightly different facial features, with a different skin color, and even the clothes changed colors. Now Daphne grabbed my elbow without any doubts, and, contrary to my expectations, turned into a real tugboat, dragging me forward. No, it didn't look so comical, but the "pull" in one direction or another was clearly felt. This made me smile. Out of habit, I wanted to throw the backpack off my shoulder and get money, but remembered that for the sake of conspiracy, the backpack is in the room, and a rather decent amount of two hundred Galleons, albeit in a pouch with an Undetectable Extension Charm, as expanded space is called here, lies in my jacket pocket.
And... It started. Honestly. Sometimes I forget how active teenagers can be. Daphne under the guise did not need to restrain herself within the bounds of decency. And it was both strange and funny. Running into Honeydukes, she gave in to emotions, dragging me by the hand with a wide smile, maneuvering past crowds of students striving to buy and eat everything. In the noisy crowd, she happily chose sweets, and noticing my smile and gaze directed at her, was embarrassed and for a moment became slightly more serious again.
We quickly walked from shop to shop, creaking snow under our feet. Broke through groups of wizards of different ages, among whom there were also adults, solid, in black or other robes of dark shades.
In the stationery and trinket shop, Daphne cast a gaze burning with real fire at a black notebook with feline-themed patterns, and at a black self-writing quill with a bright blue tint. While Daphne chose ordinary, much more modest writing accessories, I called a second seller and pointed to the things that interested the girl. The seller nodded silently and with an understanding smile and walked away, and a minute later he handed me a small bundle reduced by magic, and I gave him twenty-eight Galleons. Yes, there was change due in a Knut and two Sickles, but I waved it off—trifles. Someone will say, like: "a Knut saves a Sickle," but it doesn't matter. Money is a tool.
Hiding the bundle in my pocket, I waited for Daphne to buy everything necessary for herself, for her purchases to also be reduced and for her to put them in the pocket of her winter coat, and only after that we went outside again, heading further.
And such a picture was observed now in one store, now in another. The girl stopped hiding her emotions, albeit not completely, and literally like a little light, a spark rushed here and there, looking for something interesting for herself, while involving me in all this. We even bought some funny things at Zonko's Joke Shop, small ones, but the main purchase was a couple of bundles of firecrackers. How did we use them?
Turning around the corner of one of the houses, I wrapped us in magic and made us invisible and inaudible. So, holding hands, we moved along the street and it seemed that we didn't even leave tracks. And when we met Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle, we, without saying a word, began to throw firecrackers under their feet. They exploded with a loud bang, multi-colored smoke and painted whatever the smoke touched in the color of this very smoke.
Malfoy decided to run away, in the company of the big guys, but no such luck—we, invisible, pursued them on their heels, throwing firecrackers. Soon, half-multicolored and despairing Crabbe and Goyle collapsed into the snow, and we finished them off, finally turning them into LGBT symbols. Malfoy, as it turned out, has terrible stamina—even Daphne was almost not out of breath. We caught up with him in the grove at the exit from Hogsmeade, throwing firecrackers at the blond screaming about his "father." When he almost buried himself in a snowdrift, we retreated, leaving him to the will of chance.
Running around the corner of the nearest house, I removed invisibility and inaudibility from us. Flushed Daphne tried to catch her breath. Yes, the appearance is not hers, but I know who is under it, and such things as a blush are clearly transmitted by charms. She smiled, and her cheeks were pink-pink. I think I looked no better, having weakened control a little. Yeah... Contemplation. Well, and not only.
"That was fun," she exhaled joyfully. "Always wanted to do something like that to Malfoy."
"Do you dislike him that much?"
"Oh, show me someone who likes him," Daphne smiled broadly, straightening up, but her smile faded slightly. "Except Astoria."
"Your little sister?"
"Yes," the girl nodded, and we went further through the village. "She, for some reason, dotes on him."
"Well, he must be liked by at least someone," I shrugged.
We reached Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, and without any doubts went inside, plunging into the cloying vanilla-pink atmosphere of various knick-knacks, bows, cute tea sets on no less cute tables... In general, the abode of a hypertrophied idea of romance. Such... Pulp fiction, standard-template. But this did not stop us from taking one of the few free tables and ordering—there were new cakes on the menu again.
In order not to be tormented by temptations, not to succumb to desires to do stupid things, we sat opposite each other and with enthusiasm gave ourselves up to heavenly delight—eating wonderful confectionery.
As in our last visit, by no means all visitors were couples—some came here strictly for sweets, but these were guys from senior years who could afford to cast aside embarrassment, as well as other emotions unnecessary for eating, and just like us, they enjoyed tea and cakes.
We left the cafe in high spirits. However, the charms began to fade. Turning around the corner of one of the houses, we dispelled them ourselves, and so, from around this very corner came not a blond couple in bright clothes, but decent colleagues, strolling restrainedly through Hogsmeade.
"It was fun," Daphne smiled weakly, because there were too many familiar faces around. "And the mood is very good."
"From what exactly?"
"From everything. But it seems to me that an important role in this was played by... Mystery. Breaking some non-existent prohibition. Yes. Exactly."
The gray sky, occasionally clearing during the day, began to gradually darken—evening was falling. A light January breeze—what an absurdity—pleasantly caressed the face, bringing with it rare large flakes of snow. Not so bad, this January.
On the way to Hogwarts, to which we decided to return somewhat earlier than the others, we noticed some movement at the Three Broomsticks. As soon as we came closer, we realized that it was an ordinary brawl of senior students. Without any magic. That's why passers-by almost didn't react, only chuckling.
"Since we came up, shall we go in?"
"Why not?" Daphne nodded, and we went into the pub.
I am not a frequent guest here at all, but I simply cannot fail to note, even if not for the first time, how much the medieval surroundings of the Three Broomsticks differ from similar ones in the Leaky Cauldron. Everything is chic, cozy, but not too much. On the one hand, stingy, and on the other, if you shift accents a little, rich. Just the stuffed animal heads above the fireplace are worth something! And the floor? Plank to plank, perfect, clear, even. And this applies to absolutely everything.
Sweeping my gaze over occupied or almost empty tables, I stumbled upon Nott in the company of one Slytherin and one Ravenclaw. Maybe it's worth remembering all students by name? Just to know? These were guys from the fifth and sixth years. They looked gloomy and upset, but seeing me with Daphne, even somehow perked up.
Daphne noticed him too. Nott half-rose and waved his hand to us. Even smiled.
"Shall we approach?" asked Daphne, although she obviously experienced no particular desire.
"He was preparing a nasty trick for me. I know for sure. Let's approach, but stay vigilant. There without charms and stupid waving of the wand..." I led Daphne to the table of these guys, and she did not resist, even on the contrary, and at my words she quietly chuckled altogether. "But nevertheless."
Approaching their table, I nodded to those present.
"Gentlemen."
"Sit down," Nott pointed to the empty seats. "Familiar faces are by no means bad in this pub."
We sat down, and a buxom middle-aged lady, dressed in the style of serving wenches in a fantasy tavern, immediately hurried to us.
"Will you order something?"
Daphne and I had thoroughly gorged ourselves on cakes, so no solid food is out of the question even for me.
"Butterbeer, perhaps, how do you look at that?" I looked at Daphne, and she nodded.
"Positively."
"Wonderful," the madam nodded, and looked at Nott with company. "Repeat?"
"Yes, be so kind," the guy nodded with a smile, but some fake one, hasn't learned yet.
"This minute."
The madam ran away, and I unbuttoned my jacket. Daphne did similarly, taking off her beret, untying her scarf, and unbuttoning her coat. Due to my amulets, almost everyone at Hogwarts can afford light clothing in winter. But without excesses. That's why even now we felt quite comfortable. But if we linger—then the hanger at the table is at our disposal.
"So..." Nott spoke after a minute of silence, thereby giving Daphne and me time to settle more comfortably at the table. "Leave our differences at Hogwarts, and just drink? Won't spoil each other's last such unexpected trip to Hogsmeade?"
"I'm all for it," I smiled openly at everyone at the table, and they answered somehow constrainedly. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there.
"Your order," the recent madam with curvaceous forms deftly put five mugs of Butterbeer on the table.
Thanking the madam, we already reached for the mugs, as a loud sound of a blow, the crunch of wood came from the entrance, and generally, a slight panic arose. We turned sharply to look—the brawlers burst into the establishment, smashing the door.
"You've completely lost it, scumbags!" yelled some man who was sitting calmly at the entrance.
The sense of space helped to understand without looking at the table that a small vial of liquid flashed over my mug, and this liquid ended up in the mug. In addition, someone magically took a small pointed brooch out of Nott's pocket and transferred it to my pocket. Okay. Let's play.
While the situation calmed down, and we all watched with pleasure how the madam, who recently brought us Butterbeer, with powerful kicks and helping herself with wand magic, expelled the violators away, I wrapped the mugs in a light distraction of attention. If you don't look for the mugs, don't watch them purposefully, they will fall out of the field of vision. Making sure that I myself lost the mugs from the field of vision, stopped paying attention to them, concentrated and swapped mine and Nott's mugs. The violators were almost driven away, and we, realizing that we would not see anything interesting anymore, began to turn to each other.
"Well, gentlemen," I picked up the mug with a smile, and the others followed my example. "As the Russians say: 'To the meeting'."
Without hesitation bringing the mug to my mouth, took a sip, simultaneously noting how carefully Nott, and the others, except Daphne, watched my actions. As soon as Nott realized that I took a sip, he also decided to drink beer, starting to joyfully and greedily consume it.
Seeing such a thing, seeing how they relaxed, levitated the strange brooch from my pocket to Nott's pocket. To the right one—there was some vial there, if my feelings are to be believed. Well, or something similar to a small vial.
"Yeah, Granger," Nott smirked, draining the mug of beer. "Didn't think I..."
His face changed. Funny.
. . . . .
Theodore Nott, a smart boy in principle, if his parents' words were to be believed, felt the aftertaste of the potion in his drink with horror. Of course, his horror was mostly imagined, since there was nothing terrible in the potion—mild ailments, incontinence, and things of that nature.
"How?" the question spun in the boy's head as he looked at the venomously smiling Granger. "When?"
With every second, Granger's smirk grew wider.
"Antidote!" the thought came to Theodore's mind like a revelation, and he sharply and hastily shoved his hand into his pocket. A sharp pain in his hand, like a prick. Theo felt something in his pocket that shouldn't have been there.
"It can't be! But how?!"
Theodore paled, staring in shock at Granger, while the Mudblood's smirk kept growing and growing. From ear to ear. His face began to stretch, and sharp teeth appeared. Granger's face started to be covered in purple fur, tilting to the side. Everything around grew dark, cloudy, and swimming.
"You..." Nott tried to stand up, but the ground unexpectedly began to slip from under his feet, the world spun, and before his eyes stood the ever-widening mug of Granger, with his smile of all sixty-four triangular teeth, and burning eyes...
Nott came to abrupt consciousness. Jumping up from the bed, he didn't immediately realize from the white screens and the ceiling that he was in the Hospital Wing. His hand was bandaged. There was a taste of probably a hundred potions in his mouth. Turning his head to the side, Nott saw a bedside table lined with various jars.
"Not night yet," Nott noted the obvious, drawing conclusions from the darkening sky outside the window. Darkening, but not yet night.
"It seems," the voice of the hated Mudblood sounded from the side, and Nott turned sharply to the left. "If not for my help and quick transport here, you would have died. Funny, but it seems I saved your life. And did I tell you, by the way, that I want to become a Healer?"
Hector Granger, a blue-eyed brunet, stood there smiling calmly. But what was infuriating, considering his origins, was his incredible air of superiority in every movement, and this superiority appeared right now, during the conversation with him, with Theo. He behaves like this when he talks to enemies—that's what Draco said. Damn... Mordred... He saved my life...
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