# Favorites. Prequel. Part 1. chapter 8

Аноним Kitcune_Miyto

A conversation with Rowling.

Part 1. Chapter 8. The whole truth

"Let me help you make tea, Joanna," I smiled at the woman when she returned ten minutes later after putting her daughter to bed.

I learned this trick from Jiraiya. A light psychotropic drug planted in her cup, thanks to baby Ino for my supply, allowed our hospitable but nervous hostess to finally relax and gain confidence in strangers, that is, Harry and me. Great stuff, by the way, made on herbs and without consequences for the "client", no nausea and headaches for you. The person then doesn't understand why he blurted out his whole background to you and wanted to abruptly make friends with you. In the absence of my genjutsu abilities, it is an indispensable thing.

"Will you let me read the manuscript?" since my pervert godfather, besides spying on his native village, traveling to different countries, also wrote novels with vulgar content, I was familiar with the publishing kitchen. I copied his "bestsellers" for the printing house more than once, because Jiraiya's handwriting was very bad... it was.

"Yes, of course," Joanna rummaged in her bag and handed over a stack of sheets, which Harry took, as the only one of the two of us who could read English.

"Tell me how you decided to write this book about a boy wizard," I asked softly. "And the name is so interesting. Harry Potter, it seems, if I understood your daughter correctly?"

"You see, Nart," she shifted in her chair. "I'm... a Loser.... A couple of years ago, with a very young Jessie, I moved to Edinburgh. You can say that I ran away from my former life... my sister and her husband live here. I think I saw you two at his cafe today. Since childhood, I dreamed of becoming a writer, making up stories.... And so, two years ago, when I came here and was sitting at the train station waiting for my sister... I overheard a conversation. As crazy as it may sound, the two women were talking about the same boy, calling him "the boy from the prophecy" Harry Potter. I heard the name clearly. From their conversation, I realized that he has a very noticeable lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and funny round glasses. That he went to Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry. They talked about magic and different things. And then they left as they disappeared.... I still don't know what it was. Now it seems to me that it was some kind of dream or inspiration came to me in such an unusual way."

Joanna smiled sadly.

"This is the story of a little orphan who became a wizard. His birthday even coincides with mine.... This story gave me a reason to move on... captured me. I wanted to tell you about it. About the boy who lived and defeated the Dark Lord again," she spread her hands. It's just a pity that they refused me everywhere and advised me to find a real job. I live on welfare, but..." Joanna glanced eloquently around the small apartment.

While she was talking, Harry, who was sitting next to me on the couch, was humming softly, reading the yellowish pages rather quickly.

"All in all, it's interesting," he murmured. "That's just most of it... outright fiction.... But I'm not even halfway there yet. And here it's wrong about Quidditch - the rules are completely different, and the image of Harry Potter... I don't know..."

"My godfather wrote a book about a fearless Shinobi in his youth," I replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps, if it weren't for this book of his, the world would have remained unchanged. You know, this story, the Harry Potter story, wouldn't affect your statute of secrecy at all, it would only strengthen it. This woman writes about magicians, but did not believe her own daughter, who told her that she had seen magic."

"It's human nature to doubt," Harry chuckled understandingly. "You know, after I returned from school to the Dursleys, it seemed to me that everything that had happened before was an unusual dream. Too magical to be true. But in fact, I fell fast asleep in the closet under the stairs and dreamed of all this magic... Damn..."

"I... don't understand something at all," the hostess looked at us nervously. "I... who are you?"

"We're going to step away for a minute, Joanna," I smiled reassuringly. "R.J. and I need to clarify something."

Harry got up and followed me into the kitchen.

"Is the Weekly Prophet not enough for me? This Mordred's newspaper is constantly putting me on a pedestal, then shitting me so much that it's impossible to wash off," the wizard seethed. "And then this woman heard something about me somewhere out of the corner of her ear and made up her mind."

"You know, it's neither good nor bad yet," I said. "You really have a chance to tell this whole magical and non-magical world how it really was. A first-hand story. Without embellishment. If this story of yours, heard during a difficult period of her life, helped her, then she can help others."

"And what do you suggest?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Take off her magic, tell her that Harry Potter himself is her guest, the terror of the Dark Lords and Death Eaters, and then pump out the shock? Yes, and violate the statute of secrecy...."

"Well, it could be a lot easier," I chuckled, rummaging through my backpack, which I hid under the hanger. "These are psychotropic spy pills. If you give one of them to a person to drink after the one I already gave her in order to gain trust, then you can tell anything you want. At least give instructions on how to kill the local ruler. She'll think she made it up on her own. Joanna won't even remember that we visited her last night. But she'll remember everything you tell her after she takes the pill very well. And as for her three-year-old daughter... Joanna will think that she had a dream about wizards, which she herself is reading to her. Basic human psychology."

"So you've already drugged her? I hadn't noticed," he said.

"Sleight of hand," I shrugged. "Otherwise, she'll write some nonsense using your name, like in those prophetic newspapers of yours. At least you can control the process here...."

"Fuck, you're right about that..." Harry slumped wearily into a chair. "In this case, obliviate would not have helped either.... Or you have to erase too much of her memory. It's necessary to get there like that. I'm always getting into some shit and something happens to me."

"That's the fate of all heroes," I chuckled.

"Okay, let's take our pill, I mean, we'll do as you said," Harry agreed.

I nodded and went into the room where the hostess was waiting patiently for us.

"Would you like some more tea, Joanna?" I asked her, smiling.

***

It was already getting light when Harry told about the goblet of fire, which turned out to be a portal to the cemetery. About Cedric Diggory, with whom they touched it together. About this guy's death and Voldemort's rebirth. How he got back. And that he gave the money he won to his friend's twin brothers, and his girlfriend caught a reporter fly.

Harry was exhausted and looked very tired, reliving it all again.

"That's enough, the effects of the drug will pass soon, and you're already slurring your tongue, and Jessica will wake up. It would be bad if she found us here," I stopped him.

"Yes," he nodded.

We went out to the kitchen, and Harry called Kreacher.

"Go home," my friend asked him. "Yes, now he's definitely a friend."

The elf took us to the mansion, to Harry's room, I think.

"Naruto," he clung to me. "Could you stay in the room with me? Cedric..."

"Are you feeling guilty about his death?" I asked.

"I decided to play the noble game, and because of that, he died. Actually, I wanted to win, but I thought that this way everyone would leave me alone, that they wouldn't tease me anymore... if Cedric and I shared this victory. I'm not a hero at all...."

"Hush, hush," I had to hug him, stroking his dark hair, which I had completely lost because of henge.

"I'm so insignificant," he sobbed, burying his face in my chest.

"Calm down and get some sleep. Whether you're a hero or not, time will tell."

He breathed more evenly and fell asleep without letting go of my clothes from his clutching fingers.