Горный-Цветок. Ron-Weasly book 1. V2

A children's fanfiction series about the adventures of Harry and Ron with their friend Hermione in 8 books. Added new scenes with Ron and interludes with Harry. All rights to the characters and the magical world belong to Rowling. When writing the work, books from 1 to 5 and the beginning of 6 were taken into account. Films were not taken into account at all, as was the cursed child.

Ron Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

Ron Weasley - book 1.

Chapter 1 About the Weasley family and the chickens.

Nora's Kitchen November 1, 1981

The fox hole. another terrible morning in a country gripped by civil war. Molly Pruitt's ex is a typical housewife. She got married at school, to Arthur Weasley, and is already raising six children. Recently, in another skirmish with death eaters, she lost two brothers. At least the younger one is not involved in this war, no one in the magical world knows about him except his father, after all. Molly is due to give birth to her seventh child soon. The healer said it would be a girl this time. Well, finally. Although the problem is with birth control charms, for some reason they don't always work for Arthur. And Molly kept wanting to have a baby girl, so she didn't have an abortion. Although Arthur suggested making an amulet in the form of a ring with protection against sudden flight.

Her husband works for the Ministry of Magic in the department of protection of Muggles from magic. And with his laws, he crossed the path of many pure-blooded families. Along with his eldest son, he participates in the Dumbledore showdown and is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The older children decided to send them to another country after the frequent murders of wizard families. Especially after the deaths of Molly's older brothers. Bill is going to go to Egypt to work with goblins. Charlie is in his fifth year at Hogwarts High School and is about to leave for Romania to visit the Dragon Reserve. They are ready to accept him from the owls, even without a TOAD. Although my mother is against working with dragons. But it's far from Britain, so she nevertheless agreed with a creaking heart. And the dragon sanctuary has its own magical laws, and Charlie will be under the protection of his elders in the guild until he becomes a dragonologist.

***

Evening. Nora's kitchen. Molly is standing by the stove, cooking another chicken noodle soup, and a tired Arthur Weasley comes into the room.

"Arthur! Arthur! Did you hear that?! They say the one who cannot be named killed the Potters."

"Yes, dear. Unfortunately, this is the case." her tired husband answers her. Eight challenges across the country...

"Oh, Arthur." Molly burst into Tears. "And little Harry? What's wrong with him?"

"He is alive. Albus said that the one who must not be named tried to kill him and disembodied. All magicians celebrate the fall of the dark Lord and his knights. They don't give a damn what Muggles say."

"But what will happen to the baby next, Arthur?"

"I don't know Molly. They'll probably give it to their relatives. It's not clear right now. Black betrayed them, and he's Harry's godfather."

"Molly clutched her chest. She sat down heavily on a chair."

"Arthur, how come? Wasn't James like a brother to him?!"

"I don't know Molly, but the Aurors say he killed Peter and twelve Muggles before he was arrested. They'll put him in Azkaban under a simplified procedure, so Harry will be given to his relatives. Maybe the Potters who went to America will take him away. He's their nephew. Although Charles was against James marrying Lily. Dorea especially didn't like her. Supposedly a Muggle-born and the wife of a fifteenth-generation pureblood magician. And James kept saying that the blood was stagnant and it was time to dilute it. Necromancers are born in the family again instead of artefactors. James was born a necromancer himself, although he dreamed of making artifacts. Even the ancestral artifact of Perevel recognized him.

***

Nine years later.

Some kind of infection passed some of the chickens at night. I came to collect the eggs, and there the whole coop is covered in feathers and blood. I would have thought of foxes, but protection from them is still worthwhile. That's what Mom said. Dad later said that he was making an amulet from foxes, and cursing, he grumbled that it was clearly someone magical.

It was most likely a moon fox, judging by the tracks at the coop. And the smell is more grassy, rather than the kind left by ordinary foxes. Mom treated the coop for diseases brought by the fox and, swearing, complained that there would definitely be no eggs for the next two months - the laying hens were very scared. They just need to be slaughtered, although mom said she would buy new ones, and these should just be given time and vitamin potions to recover.

I was shocked at first, because moon foxes live in the foothills and do not come to our hilly plains. It is written about this in the tales of foxes. But I guess she's the only one who's stopped by for free chicken. I asked Percy for a textbook on UZMS and found the Moon Foxes.

Yeah, migration means once in a century. I told Dad that one of the moon foxes might have migrated closer to us from the foothills, on their way to the Alshen Mountains. The old trail passed through us earlier.

We decided to set up an ambush at night, putting an improved protective net on the coop, with antimagic runes in some places behind the common shield. They work well against moon foxes, but kitsune will easily bypass them. But we need to figure out who's messing with us. Kitsune is fine, she came, played with the chickens and left, but ordinary foxes, although magical, will come and devour us all in the coop, you can't even buy new chickens while the fox is hunting.

And then it got dark. A silver-white fox ran out of the forest, with slightly glowing fur in the dark. She approaches the new barrier, calmly touched it with her paw and went inside, but when she ran into a grid with runes, she stopped. The fur has tarnished. The fox barks angrily and turns around and leaves.

The next morning, Mom decides to buy new chickens. And the old chickens that survived should be quarantined.

***

A month later

I froze on the threshold of the coop, looking at the bustling yellow chickens. Unfortunately, our laying hens have stopped laying, and the quarantine has not yet passed.

"Mom..." I turned to my mom, who was putting food in the trough. "All the broilers are there. Didn't you say you'd order some laying hens from the Ebots?"

Molly sighed, straightened up, and wiped her hands on her apron.

"That's what I wanted, Ron. Truth. But after the magic fox scared our chickens, they stopped laying altogether. They also fought among themselves. Lex the vet said they needed rest and vitamins for at least a month. And we need to eat something. The Weasley boys can't live without a chicken, I noticed that a long time ago. Our family has a craving for chicken, like ordinary foxes."

Mom squatted down next to the chickens scurrying around the trough. The young roosters opened their wings in a funny way and covered the food from each other.

"Besides, you know Dad.... He spent half his salary on his Ford Anglia again. He says he took out a loan to buy a car and it needs to be paid off. Bill and Charlie are trying to help us, but they're saving up for housing. I had to look for a cheaper place."

I frowned, but not so angry anymore.

"And you decided to shop at the Neil chicken farm?"

"Well, Ronnie, we'll buy from the Ebots later," Mom smiled. "They are not at all expensive to take from them a large increase in broiler chickens this month. He said these broilers grow fast and eat little. We will raise them, there will be meat for the whole family. And then, when things get better, we'll buy more laying hens from the Ebots, if ours don't lay, bigger and better ones. In the meantime, you can buy beef on diagon Alley from farmers from the foothills."

I looked at the big yellow chickens that were poking their beaks into my shoes. My stomach made a soft rumble, and I blushed. Well, I love the chicken coop.

"Well," I drawled, trying to look serious, "I'm upset about the eggs, of course. But... I licked my lips, "fried chicken is not bad either. And Ginny makes great chicken soup. Mom, can you go past the beef and buy some pork for Fred and George and me?"

Molly laughed and ruffled my hair.

"You like smoked beef, my practical boy."

"Mom, I love pork, how many times do I have to tell you. Can I take care of our laying hens?"

"Oh, I forgot again, you look so much like Bill, Roni. Come on, I'll show you where we have vitamins for our laying hens. And at the same time, we'll figure out how to strengthen the coop so that the foxes don't get in anymore, otherwise Ali complained that we have a pack of magical foxes nearby."

"Yoo Hana complained last week that their chicken coop was almost ruined.

I nodded, already smiling:

"Of course, I will help. Maybe we should try to put up a magical defense? I was just reading about the fox scaring runes...."

Molly winked at him:

"Now that's a deal! My resourceful son. Let's go prepare a rescue plan for our chickens."

Interlude 1 Harry learns to cook.

The kitchen of the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive, early summer morning. Petunia stands at the stove, stirring oatmeal in milk. The favorite delicacy of an unloved nephew. Ten-year-old Harry is standing nearby, diligently cutting bread for toast. Dudley is still asleep, he only came back in the evening yesterday, after walking with friends. So he sleeps it off, and then goes for a walk again. And Harry gets up early in the morning with his aunt.

Petunia glances at her nephew, stirring the porridge, and says sternly, but not maliciously:

"Cut the bread more evenly, Harry. Toasts should be the same thickness, otherwise they will roast unevenly. And don't press the knife so hard against the board - you'll only get tired faster that way. Keep it steady, but easy."

Almost all of my aunt's attention is occupied with porridge, she also likes to eat it for breakfast. But Dudley, like her husband, prefers scrambled eggs and bacon. Although my aunt sometimes makes them omelets. Harry nods, trying to follow his aunt's movements. He learned to cook from the age of eight. His fingers are already deft, but he keeps a close eye on Aunt Petunia's hands. She promised that if he cooked well, she and Uncle Vernon would pay for him to attend a prestigious culinary college. Aunt Petunia told me that she learned to cook there herself, and then worked as a chef in a restaurant until Dudley was born.

Harry watches as his aunt stirs the porridge.

"Why doesn't the oatmeal stick to this pan? Mrs. Figg's always burns. We cooked together several times. She constantly grumbles that it's because she's not a magician. And she talks incessantly about the cats that used to live with her. Aunt Petunia, are you a witch?"

Petunia smiles a little.

"Because I stir it in time and keep the heat on medium. And I chose a saucepan with a thick bottom. Magic has nothing to do with it, Harry, it's just an experience. And don't you dare say something like that in front of Vernon, or he'll lock you in the closet again. You know how nervous he is about everything.

Ten minutes later, the porridge is almost ready.

"You will set the table. Dudley will be awake soon, and Vernon will be down in twenty minutes. Everything should be ready."

Harry nods and begins to arrange the plates, cups, and spoons. He already knows that Uncle Vernon drinks tea with two lumps of sugar, aunt - without sugar, and Dudley - with three spoons and milk. And don't forget a cup of tea.

Harry timidly asks

"Aunt, can I make an omelet with sausage or scrambled eggs with bacon for Uncle Vernon today?"

Petunia thinks about it, then nods to herself.

"Harry's scrambled eggs, take the sliced bacon out of the fridge."

They cook together. Petunia puts her favorite porridge on deep plates for Harry and herself, and the kid roasts bacon first, and then pours eggs into the pan.

Petunia puts porridge on plates and grumbles:

"Not bad. Your bacon is not too dry this time. It will be even better next time."

Harry smiles, which is almost a compliment.

"Today we will learn how to cook chicken soup with egg noodles."

"Aunt Petunia, will you teach me how to cook your signature meat pie? Well, the one you make for the holidays."

The boy asks timidly.

"Later, Harry. For now, let's learn how to cook simpler dishes properly."

***

Six months later, Petunia decided to teach Harry how to cook her signature meat pie. Six months later, Petunia decided to teach Harry how to cook her signature meat pie.

The woman washes her hands and takes out fresh chilled pork meat from the refrigerator.

"First we'll make minced meat. Put the meat through a meat grinder, but not too finely. We need a texture."

Harry cuts the meat into pieces and turns the handle of the meat grinder, trying to take his time. Young Harry is interested in everything, he really wants to repeat his aunt's pie.

"Why add onions and garlic to the meat? They will be felt." Harry wipes his tears with a napkin. Petunia, calms the kid down. She puts aside the peeled and finely chopped onion.

"They will, but not abruptly. They give a depth of taste. And don't forget to chop the garlic finely - large pieces will spoil the whole impression."

She shows you how to knead the dough, how to roll it out smoothly, and how to lay out the meat filling. Harry watches carefully, memorizing the movements.

"Now make incisions on top of the dough - shallow so that steam escapes. And brush with egg for a ruddy crust."

Harry breaks an egg to get the yolk and smears the top of the pie with a brush.

When the pie goes into the oven, Petunia says something like praise for the first time:

"You're doing great. You're attentive to details. This is important in cooking. You'll enjoy college, just like I did at the time."

Harry smiles. For him, these words mean more than any reward. Later, at Hogwarts, these skills helped Harry out more than once:

-- He could make a simple breakfast in the common room by the fireplace while the rest of the students were still asleep and Ron was out jogging;

-- I've shared food with Ron more than once, who sometimes forgot to eat because he was so engrossed in playing magic chess with set pieces in magical autonomy mode; The game sometimes dragged on, but dinner had already passed. And Hermione used to stay up late reading.

-- In difficult times, he knew how to keep his strength up with simple but satisfying food.

One day, when Harry and Ron were sitting by the fireplace and eating a meat pie made by Harry, Ron said admiringly:

"Listen, you're a good cook. Where did you learn?"

Harry, smiling, replied

"Aunt Petunia taught me. She said that everyone should be able to take care of themselves. She even persuaded Uncle Vernon to pay for culinary college for me after graduation."

Hermione is trying a piece of Harry's pie in the kitchen on a cloudy November day.

"Really? I thought they... well... didn't treat you very well."

Harry shrugs his shoulders:

"They wanted me to grow up, as my aunt puts it, normal. And then I got a job, instead of sitting on their neck. Besides, my aunt likes to teach me how to cook. She's bored at home.

Ron takes another bite of the pie, licks his lips, and nods approvingly:

"Well, special thanks to her for that. Delicious! My mom doesn't let me cook at all. He says: girls should cook, and boys should provide for the family. And if the family is rich, house elves do everything around the house. Like Grandfather Ignotus and Grandmother Lucrezia. And the girls are learning how to arrange receptions."

Harry laughs, feeling his chest warm - not only from the food, but also from the realization that these lessons have become part of his strength.

Chapter 2 a little bit about Ron.

Almost ten years have passed since the morning the Dark Lord was defeated. Nora has grown even taller since that time. It added the children's rooms upstairs. I live on the top floor. In the smallest room under the attic. A ghoul lives above me and periodically knocks on pipes and howls. And why does Mom keep him? Although mom says that this is an old resident of this house and he is already two hundred years old. It's a pity to turn him out on the street. They have an agreement with the Weasleys. They say he protects the Burrow, and they feed him. Meat with blood. Mom says he likes pork. She should have fed us pork too, otherwise she keeps giving me beef. No, Percy and Bill love her, but why is she trying to put her in me? Well, yes, I look like Bill, so what? I like pork and chicken. But the older brothers on smoked beef are just trudging along. Bill generally chews it without sauces, they say it tastes better this way.

I have five older brothers and a younger sister. Bill Sr., he's about thirty years old, works at Gringotts Bank. Charlie is about twenty-five years old and lives in a Romanian dragon sanctuary. The twins Fred and George are already in their second year at Hogwarts and wear colorful badges at home. We can't tell them apart at all without them. Even Mom. They are so similar and they have a mental connection with each other. And Percy. He is already in his fifth year of school and is taking the OWL this year. And of course my little sister Ginny. A friend of Luna Lovegood, who lives next door to us. Their tower stands on the banks of the Rattlesnake River. And Luna often goes there with Ginny to catch plumes. And I go there for brook trout. By the way, Luna went a little crazy, just like her father after the death of his mother. But the girl is funny if you get used to her eccentricity.

We live in poverty. Well, not exactly poor, but due to the fact that there are many of us, there is not enough money for everything new for everyone. And then there's Dad, with his fascination with Muggle things. Even though he buys them from antiques dealers, he still spends half of his salary on this stuff. At least the loan for our Ford has finally been paid. Unfortunately, since I'm the sixth son in the family, I usually don't get anything new. I'm going to school this year, and almost everything will be the same for me. Well, except for the gifts from Grandma Lucrezia and Aunt Muriel. Percy gave me his little rat, because Mom, overjoyed that he had become a prefect, finally bought him an OWL. My brother was so happy that I wanted one myself. But three owls in the family is too much, and the parents don't have the money for another owl. In the end, Percy just shoved his pet at me, asshole.

And I even have a used wand. The unicorn's fur sticks out from the tip. Well, at least it's okay. And all the father with his car. I put almost my entire salary into it for the year when I bought and repaired it. Okay, the older brothers are sending us some money. But they are saving up for housing in Egypt and Romania. After all, they need to start a family themselves. Especially Bill. Mom has already started looking for a bride for him. But it all comes down to the fact that we are purebloods, and Bill is the eldest son in the family. And he needs at least a fifth-generation pureblood bride. Just like Percy in the future. His grandfather Ignotus Pruitt decided to take him to his house as an heir. Bill and Charlie didn't suit him. Bill is already inheriting the Weasley house, and Charlie is just a funny jerk. And the grandfather, having burned himself on his children Fabian and Hedion, the merry twins, does not want to take Charlie. Well, Charlie is fine as it is, he is gradually awakening the dragon heritage of the founder of the Weasley family. He has already looked for a Romanian bride. The girl's name is Florya. But her parents want him to have his own house set up. So he's saving up for it.

Percy asked me to keep an eye on his pet, even though I don't really need a rat. I wonder what kind of rat he has - the second, the third? He says that this rat has been living with him for ten years, but somehow I don't believe it. He picked it up in our garden. I had a rat myself, and it only lived like this for three years, and after crying about it, I decided not to take any more rats. And here's Percy with his pet. Okay, I'm already used to it. At least there will be someone to practice on. The ratman is already used to magic. The twins generally like to feed him something interesting or repaint it in green or blue. But I want the rat to be bright yellow. We need to ask them how they repainted it so that it was green for two months like last winter when they came on vacation.

Our garden is neglected, but berry bushes and fruit trees are still bearing fruit. Mom even waters them with some pest control potions and better fruiting. Even our dwarves and hares from the surrounding forest don't go near them. But they ruined the whole vegetable garden for us. Mom waters her plants with something from the gnomes, but apparently the toad is strangling her on potatoes and carrots. Well, okay, farmers don't sell delicious vegetables at all expensively.

We have a lot of chickens, but we don't keep cattle. Meat from our neighboring farmers is quite cheap, as is milk. I love the milkshakes that Hannah taught me how to make from berry juice and chilled milk. Periodically, mom buys chickens from neighboring farmers for the brood of our laying hens and broilers. And then in four months we will have chicken legs and breasts. And I love boiled paws. Especially the rooster soup.

I spent most of my childhood playing chess with Aunt Muriel and Grandmother Lucrezia. Sometimes, though, the brothers let them ride their brooms, but not so often. They say it's not enough for them. Charlie left me his old hundredth comet, but it was so slow that the birds overtook me. We live near the magical settlement of Ottery St. Ketchpole, not far from the transition from the magical to the Muggle world. Auntie Muriel lives in one of the mansions of this settlement, and Grandma Lucretia lives with Grandfather Ignotus.

Having read the adventures of the guild of golem-controlling magicians in our part of the world, I'm looking forward to seventeen. They accept students from that age. But it's better not to tell Mom about it. He'll be upset. Charlie tells me when he received an invitation to the dragon Reserve to work after handing over the owls, there was such a scandal at home. Uh. And about Bill's job, Mom grumbles that it's dangerous. My brothers come home on vacation, and my mother constantly fights with them about their work. They say it's safer to work for the Ministry of Magic as a father. Charlie is already an established specialist, so if he really wants to work with animals, let him go to the Department of animal welfare and magical creatures. Where magozoologists work. They'll tear off a specialist who knows how to work with dragons with his hands, even though there is no dragon sanctuary in Britain - the path of the Welsh green dragons runs through us when they fly to lay eggs in the mountains.

With our average life span of up to 200 years, and some people manage to live for three hundred years, spending 7 years first studying at school, and then as a guild student or intern for another 10-20 years is quite common. Bill just became a full-fledged member of the guild of curse breakers at the bank about two years ago. He says his salary immediately jumped three times. He offered to send his mother half of his salary for groceries, as before, but she takes only a quarter of what she sent, and sets aside the rest of the money for his wedding.

My sister, having seen enough of her mother, seemed determined to get married and be a housewife. And not for anyone, but for Harry Potter, the hero of the magical world. Ginny was just reading fairy tales about the rise and fall of the Dark Lord and his death Knights. She constantly carries a doll with green eyes and fantasizes about what kind of children she and Harry will have. Horror. Of course, I've read all these books about you-know-who and the civil war in Great Britain, and my mother always told stories about those times, but I don't want to be so fanatical about a boy my age. But I would have made friends with him anyway, yes. I'm going to check on the chickens Mom ordered. The laying hens, which were frightened by the moon fox, had to be slaughtered for meat, they did not lay any more.

I stood by the chicken coop, watching ten fluffy lumps busily shoveling sawdust. They had already grown up since they were brought from the Ebots, but they were still far from laying hens.

"Well, kids," I said softly, squatting down. I'm leaving for school soon. And when I come back in the summer... I winked at them, "you're going to rush, aren't you?" I've already mentally prepared some eggs for myself. A whole mountain!

One chicken raised its head, looked at me with a black eye and squeaked something.

"That's settled," I smiled.

Molly came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder:

"They're going to grow up, Ron. Leah said that in three months they will already start rushing. By the time you get back, the eggs will be stable."

"For half a year," I sighed heavily, I really want scrambled eggs with bacon or an omelet. Mom makes a great sausage omelet. "It's been forever. I hope the brownies cook delicious eggs at the magic school."

"But what a joy you will have next summer" Molly patted my disheveled hair. "Your own, homemade eggs. No more broilers from Quint's farm, the chickens don't eat much, but I believed him."

"Mom, let's buy four more chickens from him for meat. Their paws were very tasty."

"All right, my prudent boy. Now I'll finish feeding the chickens and let's go brew a new potion and cut the ingredients again."

I looked at the chickens once more, waved my hand at them and went into the house to prepare the tools for the potion and put the cauldron on a stand. I felt warm in my chest: school and adventures were ahead, and my mother and ten future laying hens were waiting for me at home. And scrambled eggs. Necessarily. And pork ham, with bread.

***

A typical summer day, closer to the middle of July. I'm sitting in my room, thinking over another strategy for playing magic chess. There are usually a set of sixteen pieces of each color playing there, but there are about fifty more programmable golems for the expanded field in the box.

Aunt Muriel, whom I visited last week (we played several games again, I lost only three out of five, progress) recently showed how to transform the playing field into a forest with a river, we need to try. At the same time, I train in controlling tiny golems on it, my aunt promised, as soon as I learn how to stably manage the set, she will give me five enchanted real golems in the sixth or seventh year of the course.

Although I can't enchant them myself, I can make them execute commands, as well as activate the game program for the black set. I transform them into warriors and magicians, and sometimes I play with them like little soldiers. The chessboard also transforms into a forest or a field or a coast. And the number of cells is adjustable from a regular chessboard to two or three hundred cells per side, depending on the complexity of the charms in the set. Aunt Muriel is a complete grouch, of course, but she loves magic chess on an extended board. She says she was a member of the guild I'm going to when I was young, and if I train well in the game, she'll put in a good word for me in front of the masters. So she got me addicted to chess, too. She also bought me a magic set. They say you want to learn how to control golems, so train on such a small thing in a safe environment. All the apprentices in the Welsh Golems Guild start their chess training.

I hear the rustle of wings. Is that Erol? He went hunting in the morning, as he overslept after a late-night package to his father from his friend. Hmm, some strange owl is flying. And into my window. I opened the doors. We have a charm in our rooms to maintain a comfortable temperature, but the windows must be closed for this.

I untie the letter written in green ink from my paw.

"Ron Weasley. Ottery St. Catchpole. The Fox Hole. the bedroom is under the attic."

And the Hogwarts coat of arms on the seal. Hooray, I'm still going to Hogwarts and not to the Welsh school of magic! Holding out my hand with the letter up, I start dancing and yelling.

"Mom, Mom, I got an owl from Hogwarts!"

"Read it quickly, my boy." I hear her voice from the kitchen.

I open the envelope and take out a sheet of parchment on which it is written in emerald green ink:

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Percival Brian Ulfric Dumbledore - They say the director prefers his first name.

(Knight of the Order of Merlin, First class, - for defeating the necromancer from Durmstrang, Herr Grindelwald.

The Great Wizard, the Supreme Wizard, the President

The International Confederation of Magicians)

Dear Mr. Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your grandfather Ignotus Pruitt paid for all seven courses at our school. Please read the list of necessary books and items attached to this letter.

Classes start on September 1st. We are waiting for your owl with consent no later than July 31. Otherwise, you will be transferred to the school of the Guild of Welsh Magicians.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmaster!"

I'm going downstairs. Don't yell at the whole house. It's probably too late, though. I was heard all over the house. Although it's already noon, so no one is sleeping.

"Mom, Grandpa Pruitt still paid for my education for seven years. So our owl is welcome at school."

"I know, honey. I'll send it now. You should write that you're taking Percy the rat as a familiar. Are you taking it? I'll have to thank my father for the money contribution, we just wouldn't have enough money for such a prestigious school this year."

"Yes, I understand Mom, Dad's car and Ginny's schooling. A golem guild school would be fine with me."

"Hogwarts is much more prestigious, son, and I still don't understand your desire to walk through the anomalies of the magical world. It's very dangerous."

"I'll take Percy the rat, Mom, I liked him, even though he sleeps most of the time. And when will we buy things?"

"Tomorrow we'll go to Diagon Alley."

Mom wrote a reply and sent it with Erol back. And also about Percy the rat. As it turned out, it was a magical ratman who really lived in our family for ten years. Although Percy didn't bind him to himself. Although he tried, the binding didn't work. Apparently someone's lost familiar. Percy says his dad gave it to him just by picking it up on diagon alley at the menagerie. I thought at first that someone's rat was enchanted, but the checks showed nothing. He even asked at the menagerie if anyone had lost a pet, but no one confessed.

Hooray, hooray. I'm finally going to the most prestigious magic school in Europe. Durmstrang is a school of dark magicians, they very often produce the same necromancers. And Babaton is a school for girls. Maybe I can even get to know Harry Potter himself? He's supposed to go to school this year, too. I hope he gets into Gryffindor like me.

Chapter 3 Shopping trip.

We gathered as usual for breakfast in the kitchen. Today we are going to Diagon Alley with the whole company. But our sister stays with Grandma Lucrezia. She agreed to play with her while we were busy.

My father was reading a newspaper called the Daily Prophet. And he grumbled at Fudge, saying that he had again passed a law infringing on the rights of Muggleborns. As much as possible, and so they usually leave our world to live in an ordinary one. Especially when they've been living for a year or two on the frontier of the Magical World. Those who were preparing to become farmers still remain in school, but how many of those farmers are there?

My father grumbled that someone from the pureblood families had bribed the Minister of Magic again and he had passed a law infringing on the rights of Muggleborns who did not marry purebloods. They say they don't want to take them anywhere except to the ministry as clerks and aurors, and as nurses at St. Mungo's.

But farmers in the wizarding world don't care about their origins, they happily take Muggle-borns into their hands, as well as students from simpler schools. The same Leah Abbott jumped out at one time to marry a Muggle-born and went almost to the border to the Ranevsky Hills. Farmers take squibs in, even though it's customary for us to place them in foster homes in the ordinary world. Mom's younger brother Squib has studied to be an accountant and is quietly working. Mom really doesn't want to talk about him. Like a beloved little brother, and here it is. And he himself is a little offended by his family, although he understands that he has no place in the magical world without magical abilities.

I took out the letter and opened it again. I was so excited that even buckwheat and meat couldn't get into my mouth. And that didn't happen often. I've always wanted to eat. They even examined me at Mungo. They said that I have a fast metabolism. They say all poisons will come out faster. But healing potions also have a worse effect on me. That's why I need a healer in my team who can heal with magic. That's the letter. What's left in it on the Second sheet, I didn't even look at it yesterday for joy. Percy said there should be a list of textbooks.

I unfolded the second piece of paper, with the accessories, and began to read. The envelope also contained a ticket for the train departing from platform nine and three quarters.

""Hogwarts SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY" Form

First-year students are required to:

Three simple working robes (black). - and under it, wear whatever you want, even in a kilt or even in underpants.

One simple pointed hat (black) for every day.

One pair of protective gloves (made of dragon skin or a similar material). - So Charlie sent this to me as a gift a year ago. I put special charms on them so that they would stretch along with the growth of my arms. A very convenient thing for potions or herbology.

One winter coat (black, silver clasps). - Grandma Lucrezia gave me the cloak for my last birthday. All that remains is to adjust it to my figure. She still gave it to grow. He's about 5 centimeters too big for me. Mom said it would come up and it wouldn't be visible.

Please do not forget that all clothes must have tags with the student's first and last name sewn on them.

So Mom will sew the tags on herself. Although she teaches us how to fix clothes, sometimes it can't be repaired with spells. The magical background of the item may be disrupted.

Books

Each student is supposed to have the following books:

"Coursework book of spells" (first year). Miranda Gussockle

"The History of Magic." Bathilda Bagshot

"Theory of Magic". Adalbert Waffling

Transfiguration Handbook for Beginners. Emerick Switch

"A thousand magical plants and mushrooms". Phyllida Spore

"Magical decoctions and potions". Zhig Myshyakoff

"Fantastic Beasts: Habitats". Newt Scamander - Attention The course is introductory and self-taught.

"Dark forces: a self-defense manual."Quentin Trimble

And almost everything will have to be bought from antiques. Most of the books are designed for 5 years before the advanced course of the subject. But then you have to buy books for NEWT, but they change every five to six years.

But the rest of the program is set by the Ministry of Magic and books are changed only when a new teacher is not satisfied with something. Bill told me that Professor Snape, who came to school after Slughorn left, changed all the educational literature on potions to a more serious one. If Slughorn started learning potions from the humorous and the easiest, then Snape gives potion recipes for honey wing in the first year.

You are also supposed to have: 1 magic wand - Well, I already have a Ash Tree and a unicorn Tail. I came up and it's okay. Even though I want a new one.

1 boiler (tin, standard size No. 2) - Mom constantly grumbles that it would be better to continue cooking potions in normal cauldrons. But almost all student potions are discarded. But upperclassmen change cauldrons, because tin ones interact with potions.

1 set of glass or crystal vials, 1 telescope, 1 copper scale. - Well, you can take the vials at home. Mom always has a supply.

We remind you that if you do not take a rat with you, then students can take an owl, a cat or a toad with them.

WE REMIND PARENTS THAT FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE THEIR OWN BROOMS!!!" - Oh, I'll have to leave my old comet at home. And the broom brothers at school won't let them practice Quidditch almost every day. And to be allowed to have your own broom, you need to take tests from Madam Hooch. Fred says he and George started batting practice back in their freshman year. After Christmas.

"Mom, are we going to buy all this stuff?"

"No dear. You'll have to borrow books from a junk dealer. You already have a wand. Bill said it suited you. We'll take the clothes from the brothers. I've sewn you a raincoat. All that remains is to buy a telescope, a normal cauldron, don't you want to brew your own potions?" I nodded, stuffing my mouth with pork and buckwheat. "scales and ingredients. I think the standard set will be enough for you for the first year. Percy, Fred, George do you need an expanded set of ingredients?"

"Yes, Mom, I'll make potions for the hospital wing."

As usual, the twins began to take turns proving to their mother that they were well-off people and would buy an extended set themselves. They say they made good money on joke potions last year.

"And Mom, we're running out of volatile powder." Percy said. He put the pot of gunpowder back on the mantelpiece.

"We'll buy it at the same time. Fred, George, we'll also buy additional literature on runes and arithmancy from a junk dealer."

Dad sat with us for a while longer and went to work in his department at the ministry. Mom grumbled that he even worked overtime on weekends. Everything is trying to nail the purebloods. They say they mock Muggles and don't make sure their enchanted items don't end up at Muggle auctions. Their mutual dislike began in the civil war of magic, and continues, as with the same Lucius Malfoy, who turned away from time in Azkaban.

***

After lunch, we moved the fireplace into a Leaky cauldron.

It was a tiny, nondescript bar, enchanted by Muggle attention. All sorts of drunks were sitting in the hall closer to the front door. And the smoke was hanging from the ceiling. So that the squibs, who are quite a few in the Muggle part of the city, would be horrified and immediately leave. And the real patrons of the inn had lunch and dinner in a separate room. There was also a fireplace connected to the ministry's fireplace network. I looked out the window at the street. People passing by didn't look at the bar. Their gazes drifted from the large bookstore to the CD store, and they didn't seem to notice the bar between the two stores at all.

Yes, CDs, they've become popular with Muggleborns and half-bloods lately. Dad has already received several orders to enchant the record player. We even had an enchanted record player ourselves that played music without speakers or headphones. Dad brought some Muggle song CDs once, but Mom didn't like it. She prefers to listen to the magic radio with songs by Celistina Warlock. But a Muggle-born farmer neighbor named Dylan tore off this Scorpions and Beatles CD player from his father for almost fifteen galleons. He also told his friends, so Dad occasionally enchants the equipment of the neighboring farmers.

For me, the bar was very dark and shabby. Although the inner hall looks better than the hall with drunks. We were just passing by the bartender at the counter. Several elderly women were sitting in a corner and drinking wine from small glasses, one of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to an old bald bartender who looked like a frowning walnut. Yeah, Tom `handsome' is something else. They say he's about three hundred years old. And he still remembers a world without a statute of secrecy. We went to the backyard of the leaky cauldron.

As far as I know, the bar is located in ordinary London. And behind it is one of the passageways to the magical part of London. It's a different world, of course, but since the passage is next to London, it's used to being considered a magical part of the city. Muggleborns generally don't think about it at all. They think we live in a Muggle world and have just built a relationship for ourselves. And they are very surprised when they get to the frontier of the magical world and realize how huge our world is. And then, as they encounter magical predators and the remnants of the golems of a magical civilization that collapsed in the last millennium, they flee back to the Muggle world to live. And what? They will magically create documents for themselves and go to college to get an education. Although their parents grumble that they've wasted so much time on magical nonsense. But children from Muggle families have nowhere to go. For them, magical education, at least in simpler schools, is mandatory, so as not to unmask us.

We stopped in front of the trash cans in the backyard of the bar. Meanwhile, Mom started counting the bricks in the wall above the trash can, starting from the worn brick. Apparently especially for me. I've never been to Diagon Alley before. I was left to play chess with Aunt Muriel. Oh, she should have talked less about the traditions and etiquette of the magical world. They say I'm an eighth-generation pureblood magician and I should know this even though I won't become an heir. I was often left with her. Grandma Lucretia is taking Ginny, and Aunt Muriel is taking me.

"Three up... Two to the side," Mom muttered. "Remember that, Ron?"

She touched the wall three times with her wand. The brick she touched trembled, then twitched, and a small hole appeared in the middle of it, which quickly began to grow. A second later, there was an archway in front of us, large enough. Beyond the archway was a winding cobblestone street. The trash cans were missing.

"Mom, can I try to do it myself?"

"Sure, try Ron," Mom tapped the tank with her wand. "if there is no one near the passage for more than fifteen minutes, it will close itself, but when you leave, it is better to close it behind you."

I waited until the passage was closed and there was a wall behind the tanks again. Mom stepped aside and I pulled out Bill's wand. Then he tapped on an inconspicuous brick. Inconspicuous to Muggles. I could feel a faint current of magic. When I touched the desired brick with my wand, a warm wave went through the wand from my hand. Of course, I don't forget which brick counts. So three up and two to the left. Okay, if I forget, I'll ask my mom later. She often goes to Diagon Alley. He carries the same potions and berries for sale, and the farmers have their own shops in one of the branches of the alley. It's called meat alley.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Mom said. We stepped through the archway and found ourselves in a magical world. The air here is even different from that of Muggles. I was followed by the twins, who were chatting happily, and the important Percy brought up the rear.

"Baby Ronnie is going shopping today." I looked at the badge on my brother's shirt. "We dressed up for a trip to Diagon Alley. That's how Fred usually wears a T-shirt. I also wore a dark red shirt and my favorite necklace with fangs. Bill made it himself, and gave it to me for my birthday the day before last.

"Fred, shut up." I hissed.

We all trooped through the archway, and I looked back and saw how it immediately turned back into a blank wall.

The sun was shining brightly, reflecting in the boilers set up in front of the store closest to us. "Boilers. All sizes. Copper, bronze, tin, silver, gold, inert metals. Self-stirring and collapsible" There was a sign hanging above us. She tells him to set a stirring program before loading the ingredients into the base. It's very difficult, but it's usually used when the potion is complex and there's no helper. Grandpa Pruitt gave it to my mom for my dad's wedding anniversary.

"So, we'll buy a boiler on the way back, after all, ours is already leaking. And not made of tin or copper, but normal," said Mom. "But first we'll go to the bank for the money. Bill recently transferred part of his salary. What would we do without him and Charlie?..."

A soft hooting could be heard from the gloomy-looking store. "'The Sova Shopping Center.' Common owls, barn owls, long-eared and polar owls." A few boys about my age pressed their noses against another display case, looking at the brooms displayed in it.

I wish I had my own owl, I'm so jealous of Percy.... No, I understand that this is an artfully made golem. She even eats like a real one, but it's more like a reified spirit. We even made special cookies for them. Dried pieces of meat and berries, although it is better not to feed them for a long time. Owls must fly to hunt. Otherwise, the spirit will wither and may even leave the master, to whom they are attached as familiars. Hermes got attached to Percy, and now the owl flies to hunt mice and rats in the fields.

"Look," I heard the boys talking at the window, "the new Nimbus-2000 model, the fastest."

The broom is really cool. But unfortunately, we definitely can't afford it. Maybe Grandpa will fork out for Percy, but he hardly flies on broomsticks. Why does he need a racing version of a broom? I wish I had at least two hundredths of a comet.... I like flying, but you can't fly on brooms for long. The ass gets tired.

There were shops here that sold robes, telescopes, and strange silver instruments like I'd never seen before. Even though I helped my mom make potions with Ginny. I cut the ingredients more and sometimes stirred them. If the potion wasn't complicated.

The windows all over the street were filled with all sorts of junk. Good things were sold inside the shops of wizards who produced them or as a shop of writing supplies that had a contract with farmers to supply the same parchment.

"Gringotts," my mom announced when we finally stopped. "Ron, remember where everything is."

We were in front of a snow-white building towering over small shops. The building seemed to overwhelm with its majestic beauty. And there was a goblin in a scarlet and gold uniform standing by the highly polished bronze doors. I've seen enough of them, and there's a whole clan of them living in the foothills.

He was two heads shorter than me. Short like all his people. But that doesn't make it any less combative. The lovingly polished halberd sparkles. Goblin runes are carved on the butt of the blade and on the shaft of the halberd, as well as on his steel armor. He had a dark green, intelligent face, a pointed beard, and, as I noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as we walked inside. Now we were standing in front of a second set of doors, this time silver. They were engraved with lines about greedy thieves.

Two goblins greeted us with bows as we passed through the silver doors and found ourselves in a huge marble hall. A hundred more goblins sat on high chairs behind a long counter, making notes in large ledgers, weighing coins on copper scales, and examining precious stones with magnifying glasses. There were more doors leading out of the hall than I could count. other goblins let people in and out through them. Well, yes, the only bank in the whole of magical Britain. Although it has branches in other countries, goblins mostly live in the mountainous area of our continent, which is accessed by passageways in magical Britain.

Mom came up to the counter, my brothers and I crowded behind her.

"Good morning," Mom said to the free goblin. "We're here to get some money from the Weasley safe."

"Do you have a key to it, ma'am?"

Mom took out a small bronze key and put it on the counter.

The goblin studied him through a special glass with runes.

"Everything seems to be in order."

"Mom, what's he doing?" I was curious about everything, and I stared at the goblin curiously.

"He's checking for a fake key, Ron."

"The scoffer!" goblin called his colleague at the counter to escort us to our safe.

We followed him to one of the doors. Mom took out a thermos and took a couple of sips of mint tea.

"Children, take a few sips of tea for motion sickness."

The goblin just snorted.

"Oh, those people with their weak bodies."

The scoffer opened the door for us. We were standing in a narrow stone corridor lit by burning torches. The road sloped steeply down, and there were thin cast-iron rails on the floor. The scoffer whistled, and a large cart clanked up to us. We climbed inside - we managed it with difficulty, although there were expansion charms on the cart, there were still a lot of us, and let's go. Percy, like his mother, turned green almost immediately from the speed and somersaults of the cart.

At first, we raced through a maze of winding corridors. I tried to remember the way, but soon gave up this useless task. I was starting to feel a little queasy, after all, my broom would never accelerate to that speed. I tried to take my mind off the local attractions. Luna said that goblins at Gringots keep dragons in top-secret safes. The cart has already passed the stalactites by the underground lake twice. Are we going in circles? The rattling cart seemed to know the way by itself, because the Scoffer wasn't driving it, even though he had his hand on the lever.

Maybe he has mental control like Dad's car? Although there is only mental height control, and turns are controlled by the steering wheel. Turn the steering wheel from left to right. I rode our Ford with my brothers while my mom wasn't looking. I even tried to control it. I'm taking off well, but I'm having a little trouble landing.

Icy air blew over me, and my eyes stung, but I kept them wide open. At some point, it seemed to me that I noticed a flash of fire at the end of the corridor, and I quickly turned around to see if it was a dragon, but I was too late - the cart went down sharply. Now she was passing by an underground lake, with stalactites and stalagmites growing on the ceiling and walls, just like in the Alshan Mountains. Finally, we arrived at the place.

Goblin unlocked the door. A cloud of green smoke erupted from inside, and when it cleared, I sighed in frustration. There was a small pile of silver coins inside. A few gold pieces. A few more knuts.

The mother began to collect the coins in her bag. Oh, I hope we have enough for second-hand stuff. Even though Bill and Charlie are sending a portion of our salaries to help us, there's still not enough money for such a horde of schoolchildren. Unfortunately, some things need to be bought new. And they're expensive. I'll need to get a new wand in two or three years.

***

Another frantic cart race, and we were already standing outside the bank, squinting in the sunlight.

Mom took out bottles of pumpkin juice from her purse and handed one to Percy. Then she took a sip herself. The greenery gradually began to fade from their faces.

"Kids, let's go sit in the park in a couple of blocks. I have your favorite berry juice with me. Percy and I need to get some rest."

"Yes, Mom, let's go. I'm not feeling well either." I muttered.

"Mom, we're going to visit Dr. Fireworks for some miracle firecrackers." Fred grumbled, taking out a bottle of apple juice from his hip bag. He squeezed the apples himself this morning. And his brother was cutting sandwiches with smoked mountain salmon.

"Fred, save me half the juice. I'll share a sandwich with you." George said.

"All right, go ahead, but behave yourself. Ron, Percy, here's Morse for you." Mom took out a cool bottle of raspberry-currant juice from her purse. I poured myself a cup of warm chamomile tea.

After getting drunk, we went to the local magic park, with benches between the spreading trees and a small magical spring that restores strength. It shone softly with a blue-violet light in the semi-darkness of the park. Rainbow hedgehogs rustled in the bushes, their needles shining softly. Moon moths fluttered around, which can only be found in the twilight of a forest grove.

I was feeding my little rat with wheat seeds and apple slices when the twins found us half an hour later. Mom was just feeding the magic chipmunks. She took out a bag of moonbeams. As soon as she scattered them on the grass, sparkling chipmunks appeared from behind the bushes - they carefully picked up the berries, leaving behind a scattering of blue sparks. They say they bring luck to the one who feeds them for the whole day. Percy carefully held out the berries in the palm of his hand to one of the chipmunks, who quickly devoured them from his palm.

"It feels like I can move mountains. But let's get back to shopping, otherwise we won't have time for everything, Mom."

There were also magical frogs croaking around the spring. They shimmered with a green light with silver streaks. Their choir played musical roulades and they caught and swallowed mosquitoes flying into the park.

Finally, we rested and went back to Diagon Alley to get the things we needed.

***

"Come on, kids, let's go to Malkin's first to get Percy's robes."

"Mom, why does Percy have new robes?" I was surprised. After all, everyone always bought used things. Only Bill and Charlie were wearing new clothes. And that was only because they didn't have to pay tuition. They passed the quota, and now the twins had to pay fifty galleons each for a year of schooling. Grandpa paid well for Ginny and me. Otherwise, I would have gone to study at the Welsh School of Magic. Most of the Weasley clan was graduating.

"Because he's the prefect, Roni."

I grimaced as I took a bite of a sandwich with smoked pork and boiled egg with tomato slices. I was hungry again. It's not enough for me to learn from this nerd at home, but he will also build us at school. Percy, if you let him go, he won't shut up. He's always grumbling about future OWLs. They say he has so many subjects and everything needs to be passed perfectly. That's why Roland needs to shut up and sit quietly in his room. Take an example from your sister.

We entered a ready-to-wear studio. There were even Muggle clothes for sale, as well as frock coats and classic trousers for magicians. Madame Malkin turned out to be a squat, smiling sorceress dressed in mauve robes.

"Are we going to study at Hogwarts? It's been a long time, Molly, since I've had anyone from your family." She said it before we could explain the purpose of our visit to her. "You've come to the right place."

"We only need robes for the older boy." Mom intervened in the saleswoman's monologue.

"Well, as you wish. Will you wait here or outside?" The smiling woman pointed to the rows of chairs against the wall of the studio.

"Here."

"Look at the selection of ready-to-wear goods over there. Pray, I've known you for a long time, аs a mother with many children, you will get a discount. There are second-hand items in that rack over there if you don't want to take new ones. Nels recently brought almost new things. It's time for your youngest to change his trousers to longer ones. You can see for yourself. And I'll give you fifteen sickles for a pair of trousers. You'll only pay me three galleons."

"Well okay. Ron, go get yourself a pair of oversized trousers."

I went to inspect the clothes that fit me. These dark blue jeans will do, bend the legs a little so that they grow and that's it.

"Mom, I chose these jeans."

"So this is for the winter, but for the fall and the end of spring we need something easier. These gray ones with a dark green check will do. Ron, try it on. Isolde, will you give us another five sickles for our shirts? We'll take two."

"Well, pray, but only because you're my school friend."

Madame Malkin placed Percy next to the mirror. Centimeter-long ribbons immediately began to spin around him. After that, she began to adjust his robes. At the same time, I was trying on blue and gray shirts. I opted for a lighter grey and a flannel dark blue for winter. After waiting for her to finish and paying for the purchases, we went outside.

***

We went to the Pen and Ink shop to buy parchment and quills. The feathers are supplied by the Nile Goose Farm in our region, and they have many suppliers all over the world's magic frontier. And the parchments are bought from western farms, where there are pastures for cattle.

A silver bell tinkled above the door, and we entered the shop. The air smelled of wax, dried herbs, and a hint of magic. There were racks of pencil cases along the walls, and bundles of goose feathers glittered in the windows: snow-white, with a silver sheen, and even a few shimmering ones, as if sprinkled with stardust. Master Einar, the white-haired shopkeeper with lace-up glasses, looked up from the ledger and smiled affably:

"Welcome, Mrs. Weasley! It's been a while since you've been in, it's been three months now. How can I help you?"

Mom looked around the shop windows and sighed:

"How expensive everything is, but what can you do? We need feathers. Ordinary, but of good quality. For school. Jars of black and blue ink."

I immediately rushed to the display case with enchanted feathers:

"Wow, look, Percy! These people write themselves! And these ones change the ink color on command! Imagine how convenient it is to take notes on the history of magic."

Percy, more restrained, went to the counter and took out a list:

"Three simple pens, please. And one more thing with a basic durability enchantment - for the control ones. Six jars of black ink, a jar of blue ink, and two jars of green ink."

Master Einar deftly collected the order, putting the feathers on the counter:

"Excellent specimens. Length 17 cm, manual sharpening, basic protective charms. The ink was recently imported from our Longbottom factory in Cumbria. Only 12 silvers for everything. Percy reached for the money and asked for a few more ordinary notebooks made of stitched parchment.

Mam raised her eyebrows:

"Twelve?! Yes, in the spring we took the same set for eight! Why have prices jumped again?"

Einar sighed and put down the pen he was about to pack:

"Spring is molting, dear. Then the farmers hand over the feathers in bags, we buy them in bulk, and we lower prices. And now it's summer, there are no fresh supplies, we are working with stocks. Besides, all kinds of travelers take them in the summer, and demand is growing.... Plus, you know, protection from insects, protection from rodents, enchantment for safety - all this is included in the price."

Mom pursed her lips, but didn't argue:

"Okay, okay. Give my youngest three regular pens and one enchanted one for the tests. But then give me more wax for polishing - and a discount for a bulk order, like last time! And four jars of black ink and one blue one. Oh, and parchment for notes and homework.

Einar chuckled:

"For wholesale- of course. And I'll add the wax for free, as regular customers. Here, take the scrolls for homework. And six stitched notebooks."

He carefully packed the feathers in a leather pencil case, handed it to Mom, and winked at Percy and me:

"And for the young students- a lollipop! Today we have an action: `To the pen - a sweetness for inspiration.'"

I happily grabbed a mint ball, and Percy nodded politely:

"Thank you, Master Einar."

Mom, already relenting, put the coins on the counter:

"Well, at least that way. Next time I come in the spring, I'll stock up for the future!"

"A wise decision," Einar nodded. "And if you tell me in advance, I'll reserve the best feathers from the new batch for you."

Mom was about to head for the exit with a pen case, when I, without looking up from looking at the windows, exclaimed:

"Mom, look! The enchanted parchment!"

Percy was also interested and moved closer to the shelf, where sheets of parchment lay in neat piles - thick, slightly golden, with smooth holes along one edge.

"Stitched like notebooks," he remarked. "Convenient for notes."

Master Einar, noticing the boys' interest, came over and took one of the stacks:

"Great choice! This is an enchanted parchment from the western farms of the magical world. It is made from the skin of special magical sheep - it is stronger than usual, the ink on it does not fade for a hundred years, and the edges do not crumble. In addition, the firmware is made with an enchanted thread - notebooks do not fall apart even after hundreds of flips.

I ran my finger along the edge of the notebook:

"Why is it so golden?"

"This is a feature of the sheep breed," the master smiled. "Their wool has a natural golden pigment, which is transferred to the parchment. They say it even slightly enhances magical records - formulas and spells are better preserved."

Percy opened his notebook, flipped through the pages:

"Smooth... And they don't show through. How much per piece?"

"silver for a 50-sheet notebook. If you take two or more - 20% discount."

Mom sighed:

"Prices again..."

"Alas, my dear," Einar spread his hands. "Western farms are far away, shipping is expensive. But this parchment will last you for years! In the fall, prices will be even lower, as farmers will slaughter sheep for meat and magic caravans will go. You can make a pre-order."

Percy looked at me, and I nodded vigorously.

"Let's take two," Percy decided. "One for me for potions, one for Ron for transfiguration."

"And one more," Mom added, relenting, "for the draft calculations on potions. But only at a discount, Master Einar!"

"Of course, of course!" The shopkeeper hastily agreed. "For a total of three notebooks - two silver and ten copper ones instead of three sickles. And here you have a little gift: a bag of wax magic crayons. You can mark pages with them, and the labels will not be erased."

He carefully wrapped the notebooks in a linen cloth, tied them with a ribbon, and handed the package to Percy.

"Keep the parchment away from water and fire - even though it is enchanted, but the elements are stronger. And do not bend the sheets too sharply - creases may remain."

I accepted the package with delight:

"Thank you, Master Einar! Now I will definitely write the best work on golem transfiguration!"

"The main thing is not only the parchment, but also knowledge," the master winked at him. "Good luck with your studies!"

Our family said goodbye and went outside. I held the bag of quills and parchment carefully to myself, and Percy was already mentally making a plan for the semester's notes.

Mom, looking at the enthusiastic faces of her sons, smiled:

"Okay, maybe the prices bite, but at least you'll have everything for real, magically."

"Yes, Mom!" The boys answered in unison, and all three of them went to the playground between the alleys where the twins had gone. Percy and I were discussing which ink would be best suited for the new parchment. The twins had already bought everything while we were walking in the park.

Mom shook her head, listening to our conversations, but a smile flashed in her eyes.

***

They did not enter the bookstore. They bought me a titanium student boiler. It's a bit expensive, of course, normal potions are not brewed in tin and copper cauldrons. But it's the most important thing for children to go to school. I need a cauldron to make my own potions. As a future golem-controlling magician, I must be able to assemble and use a first-aid kit. It's still pretty dangerous in the magical world. About the cathedral on our continent, where Hyperborea used to be located.

Then we bought a worn scale with a set of weights at a junk shop, and also bought a folding copper telescope with good lenses. The following enchantments were cast on him:

Image stabilization - to keep the stars from flickering;

Smooth change of the multiplicity - for the convenience of the student focusing on the object;

Lens protection - for durability - protects against scratches and dust from raindrops;

Object illumination is used to quickly search for unknown objects.

And a stack of old textbooks. Yes, they looked ugly and were old, but what can you do.

***

Then we visited a pharmacy, where everything was so magical that I didn't even notice the terrible smell - it smelled of rotten eggs and rotten zucchini.

Barrels of some kind of bubontuber slime stood on the floor, glass jars with dried plants, crushed roots and colorful powders lined the walls, and bundles of feathers, fangs and curved claws hung from the ceiling. While Mom was talking to the apothecary-we needed to buy all the ingredients for making magic potions and sell the potions mom had made-I was studying silver unicorn horns worth twenty-one galleons each and beetle shells, shiny and red (six knuts per ladle).

The pharmacist will send the ingredients for classes to the school. Plus, I was given a standard set of ingredients for personal purposes. The brothers Fred and George used their pocket money to buy themselves an extended potion kit. They said they sold some of their jokes at the Fireworks store. Percy also bought himself an extended set with an addition for the honey wing. He boasted that Professor Snape had allowed him to help with brewing medicinal potions for a small fee.

I'm going to study at the guild and continue to mine ingredients and explore the magical world. It looks like you'll have to assemble a small team to do this. Or use golems? No, we need people anyway. I need a healer, and I should invite a couple more rangers. I think it will be possible to assemble a small group while still studying at the guild. After all, there are quite often tasks to extract ingredients in a magical forest or search for artifacts in destroyed cities.

"Well, that's it, you can walk down the alley and go home."

It was already afternoon, and the sun was sinking lower, when we walked back through Diagon Alley, then through the wall and entered the Leaky Cauldron, which no longer had a single customer. After moving home, we went to our rooms. I packed my purchases in a suitcase with an expansion of the space. I also leafed through my textbooks. I should at least read them before the school year. Especially transfiguration - I'm interested in it.

"Ron, Percy, go to dinner." Mom called us downstairs. The twins were already downstairs, and Ginny was helping her mom prepare a festive dinner. "Yes, Mom," I shouted and rushed downstairs.

There is a linen tablecloth on the kitchen table, candles and magic lamps flicker, and the smell of fresh pastries and stewed meat. The family got together after a busy day of shopping - everyone is sharing their impressions, laughing and enjoying the food. Even Dad came home from work early, and not as usual in the middle of the night.

I helped myself to fried potatoes with herbs and a piece of lamb with bay sauce. A portion of caul was already steaming in a plate nearby. Then, after thinking about it, I helped myself to some more fish baked with fennel. I caught a fish myself yesterday in Rattlesnake. The sandwiches eaten at lunch have long been digested. The twins were bustling happily nearby. They were constantly hungry too.

In the middle of the table was a platter of pancakes and next to the Welsh cakes. We talked casually about the day, and Ginny boasted about how well she had spent half the day at Grandma Lucrezia's. I ate heavily, listening to the conversations.

Mom brought a steamed jug of berry juice and another with homemade cider from the pantry. Fred and George cheered. Well, they can already have cider. Ginny and I will drink mors. Like Dad, by the way, he is generally opposed to alcohol.

We stayed up late at the table. We went to our rooms after midnight.

Interlude 2. The first bridges

The living room of the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive. The day after the purchases. New Hogwarts robes, bought at Madame Malkin's store, are laid out on the coffee table. Petunia Dursley stands next to the table, fastidiously lifting the edges of the fabric with two fingers. Harry stands awkwardly at the door, trying not to attract attention.

Petunia unwraps one of the robes, frowning in disbelief.

"And that's... it? Is this what you're going to wear to school? But what about trousers, shirts, sweaters. Have you seen Dudley's wardrobe? I even bought him a sweater and a pair of warm trousers for a warm school like Vaughings.

Harry hesitates, then says shyly. It wouldn't be a big deal to tell him about the fifty galleons the headmaster had given him for the year.

"Yes, Aunt. It's a school uniform. They only sold me robes at the school clothes store. And I'll wear old school trousers and a shirt under my robe. I don't have Muggle money for new things, only the magic money for the year was given by the headmaster."

Petunia throws the robe back on the table, picks up another one, examines the lining. Then he begins to angrily reprimand his nephew.

"But there's nothing warm here! No sweater, no vest, not even a decent lining. You're going to freeze! I'll buy you black trousers and three white shirts at a second-hand store. You already have a normal leather belt, as well as a backpack. You'll work off your clothes this summer. You're going to help me cook and not talk about your school in front of the neighbors. You're going to the Edinburgh School of Fine Feasting in Scotland, it has a culinary bent. My parents said that about Lily, because she studied in Scotland, as Professor McGonagall told us. Lily was really good at making soups, but her porridges sometimes burned, she was used to doing everything with magic. She said girls were taught to cook with a magic wand."

She puts down her robe and starts sorting through the rest of her things, as if hoping to find something more practical among them. My raincoat feels very warm. He sighs.

"Well, at least something warm. Heated, right? And if the spell ends in the middle of winter, have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"The aunt at the store told me the warranty for the charms is ten years. Hagrid took me to a company atelier for school clothes."

His aunt carefully folds her raincoat and lifts her black tie with two fingers, as if it were shining alternately in four colors.

"So the ties are kind of weird. Harry, are they enchanted?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, the saleswoman said that at school they will change their colors to the colors of the faculty. But I don't know how to tie ties at all, maybe Uncle Vernon will teach me? Please, Dudley gave me his old school uniform tie."

"So be it. I'll ask Vernon to show you how to tie knots properly. It'll come in handy, because you looked like a scarecrow at your elementary school graduation."

Petunia is grumpy, more to herself than Harry:

"Lily always wore a green hand-knitted sweater. I remember back in elementary school, in any weather - a sweater, a scarf, sometimes even two pairs of socks. And then she kept swearing at this damned Scottish climate: "Petunia, how can you stand this dampness? There are ice corridors at Hogwarts!" I was just learning to cook in Edinburgh and our school was one block away from Vaughings. That's where Vernon and I met."

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise - this is the first time he's ever heard his aunt speak about his mother in such a... human way. And his aunt wasn't used to telling me much about herself.

Harry asks quietly:

"Was Mom really that creepy?"

"I must have taken after my mom, I'm always cold too," the guy thinks.

His aunt rarely brings up the subject of his parents at all. And here it's an evening of revelations. Aunt Petunia must have vented all her pent-up anger at Harry's mom in the cabin by the sea.

Petunia turns around abruptly.

"What is `true'? Of course it's true! She was always freezing, and I told her, `Lily, put on your coat, you'll catch a cold!' But no, she had to look "elegant," as she put it. They say we only wear raincoats outside, but at school everyone wears robes. And then there were just frosty winters. And as a result, she was always coughing, her nose was red..."

She looks at the robes again, shakes her head.

"And you're just as stupid! Not an ounce of common sense. You'll definitely catch a cold in this... in this hoodie. You'll also get pneumonia, like Lily did in her sophomore year when she was admitted to their hospital wing for a week. After that, her mother forced her to buy herself a sweater and warm trousers with tights for school, as soon as she found out what she was wearing. The first winter was warm. And in the second year, there were frosts in the forties outside."

Harry is shocked by what he has heard and tries to explain to his aunt what Hagrid told him about school.

"Aunt, but it's warm at Hogwarts. Magic keeps the temperature up there, and generally... Hagrid says he wore a shirt and pants at school, and it was so hot...

Petunia interrupts, grimacing at the mention of the giant. Vernon had already arranged with a private clinic in London to have Dudley's piggy tail removed before school started. They'll laugh.

"Magic, schmagia..." aunt grumbles. "And if your magic breaks? Or will they turn off the heating? Or will you forget how to make it? What then? Are you going to freeze like your mother?"

She sighs, goes to the closet in the corner of the room, takes out an old children's wool sweater - dark blue, slightly stretched at the elbows. Petunia hands Harry a sweater.

"Here, take it. Wear it under your robe. And don't argue! It's not up for discussion. This is Vernon's sweater, a memory of his school days, he was slimmer when we met. Of course, he'll grumble that I gave it to you, but what can I do?

The Dursleys will have a hard time with money after paying for Dudley's hospital. There is no insurance for such a case, and you also have to pay for silence. There is no insurance for such a case, and you also have to pay for silence. But don't tell the kids about it?

Next summer, when you go shopping, you must buy warm clothes for yourself, I know that they are sold on your diagon alley.

"As an orphan, the principal of your school specifically allocates money to you. Spend wisely, not on sweets."

Harry takes the sweater, looking at his aunt in surprise. Apparently, he asked her to continue teaching him how to cook.

"Thank you, Aunt, for the sweater.... I really didn't think that warm clothes would be needed. There was such an unpleasant boy in the studio from a family of magicians that I just ran away from there as soon as they gave me robes and a cloak."

Petunia turns away, as if ashamed of her concern:

"As soon as the frosts start, I want you to wear it until you buy a new sweater. Every day. And put on a scarf. I have one in my closet, a gray one with stripes. At school, you will ask a senior student to repaint him in the colors of the faculty. It's certainly not new, but it's very warm. I wore it in the winter in college. And ignore the words of people like that boy. Lily constantly complained that she was being called by these "pure-blooded" magicians. That was when their civil war was starting, which is why Vernon and I were against your studying at Hogwarts."

Harry nods, hiding a smile. It was the first time he'd been given good things, not Uncle Vernon's old stuff like socks or hangers, like for his last birthday. However, the hanger was given to him by his swearing aunt Marge, who was staying at the house. Like, `what's the point of Vernon's old socks, just throw them away. And anyway, did you check this ill-mannered boor for worms, that he's skinny, as if he doesn't eat at all? I always kill the dogs in such cases.'

"All right, Aunt Petunia. I'm going to wear this sweater." Harry promised, remembering the screams of Aunt Marge, who nevertheless brought him pills and forced him and Dudley to drink them. `Vernon, in that case, you need to get rid of all the worms, drink it too, and make your skinny wife go on a diet or something?'

Petunia nods glumly, then suddenly adds a little more softly:

"And if it starts to freeze again at your school- write at once. I'll knit you some more socks. Tolstoy. To make sure your feet don't freeze."

Harry nods, feeling a warmth in his chest - not from the sweater, but from something else he hadn't noticed about Aunt Petunia before.

"Good. Thank you, Aunt Petunia."

The aunt just waves it off, but a faint smile flickers at the corners of her lips. She turns to the table and begins to carefully fold the robes, as if they are the most valuable things in the world.

***

The next day, Uncle Vernon took the two of them to a second-hand store in London. In the morning, he grumbled that his nephew was pulling money again, saying that since he had the magic currency, he could buy things for himself, but Aunt Petunia persuaded him to allocate thirty pounds for purchases. There was a sale in the store and my aunt started picking up a pair of black trousers and three white shirts, and after thinking about it, she added a blue flannel shirt with a green check. She noticed a long time ago that her nephew was not indifferent to the cage, and his things with it lasted much longer than pure white ones. And it will be warmer in winter.

"This is in case it gets cold. You can put it under your sweater."

"Thank you, Aunt, I'll do everything honestly. Do you want me to take care of your garden?"

"Yes, it would be nice. Your flowers are growing well, which you weed and water.

A salesman approached them.

"How much do we charge for everything?"

"Twenty pounds, ma'am." I've given you and your son a five-pound discount.

"My nephew," my aunt grimaced, taking the money out of her purse. "And please give us those autumn boots with fluted soles. Harry, try it on, if you're a little free, it's not scary."

***

Petunia, who was arranging tea cups on the coffee table, looked up at Vernon, who was sitting in his favorite armchair with a newspaper.

Petunia is strict, but without irritation:

"Vernon, could you show Harry how to tie a tie? Just before school, he'll practice on Dudley's old tie."

Vernon sighed heavily, put down the newspaper and cast a disapproving glance towards Harry, who was standing by the door with his uniform tie in his hands. Vernon grumbles:

"The kid doesn't know how to do something again... All right, come here, man. Let's see what to do with you."

Harry timidly came closer, holding in his hands the black uniform tie that aunt Petunia had given him for his birthday.

Vernon sighs, leading his unloved nephew to a full-length mirror on the wall:

"Give it here. And watch carefully - I won't repeat it."

He took the tie, threw it around Harry's neck, and began to show it right on top of him:

"The right end is longer. You throw it over the left one... like this... You wrap it around... you tighten it... See? Everything is simple."

Harry carefully followed his uncle's movements, trying to memorize every step. Vernon finished, adjusted the knot, and took a step back, critically examining the result.

Uncle untied the knot and handed the tie to Harry.

"Try it yourself. And to make no mistakes!"

Harry took the ends of his tie, took a deep breath, and began to repeat the steps. Her hands were shaking slightly, and her fingers were tangled in the fabric. He loosened the knot several times, started over, and frowned with tension. Vernon stood nearby, tapping his foot and sighing from time to time. After about fifteen minutes, Vernon muttered,

"What's taking so long?... Are you sure your hands aren't growing out of there? Come on, hurry up!"

Harry didn't answer, concentrating on trying. Finally, after several unsuccessful attempts, he got a neat knot - not perfect, but quite decent. He gently pulled on the ends, checking if it was holding.

Harry hesitantly:

- Did it work?

Vernon leaned closer, examined the tie from all sides, and pulled at the ends. Something remotely like approval flashed across his face. The man chuckled approvingly

, "Well... it'll do." It's not a masterpiece, of course, but at least it wasn't like your junior high graduation. Practice some more in the next few days. And don't tighten the knot too much.

Harry carefully adjusted the knot, trying not to show how happy he was. He looked at his uncle and said softly,

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon froze slightly, as if he hadn't expected any thanks. He waved his hand as if to ward off something, and went to his chair. Vernon is softer now, but still grumpy:

"Okay, okay. Just don't forget to put it on properly when you arrive at school. And without your tricks at school, don't embarrass us. I still remember explaining to the headmaster of your and Dudley's school why you climbed onto the roof of the cafeteria."

Petunia, who was watching what was happening, smiled slightly and poured fragrant tea with bergamot into the cup in front of Vernon. Petunia, sipping from her fragrant cup with a couple of cherries:

"See, Vernon? It wasn't difficult at all to help the boy. We agreed that he would continue to help me cook and take care of the garden. Leave the bill for culinary college for now, it might still come in handy. Lily said in the sixth year that they didn't want to hire her anywhere for a prestigious job, even though she had nine owls passed perfectly."

Vernon just snorted in response, but took the cup and opened the newspaper again.

"Well, the interest is running out anyway. If anything, we'll use it for Dudley."

"Although I do remember that Potter was a well-off bum. They say his ancestral abilities are not suitable for a family business. Ugh. When I was his age, I had already founded Grannings, and he was still studying."

Harry, trying not to smile too broadly, stepped aside and took another look at the tie in the mirror. He did it himself. And he'll practice, because even Dudley can tie ties, but he can't. It was such a disgrace at the graduation ceremony.

Dudley, by the way, was thinking intently about something, then he went to his room and brought an old tape player and headphones.

"Harry, take it anyway, you've been licking your lips at it for a long time and the tape is your favorite. Just take my ponytail off."

"Did he stay like that?!"

"Yes. My dad wants to take me to the surgeon. But I'm afraid."

"Okay, I'll write to Professor McGonagall. That I bewitched you by accident when I got angry that you ate half of my cake.

Harry went to his room and tied a message to the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts School to Hedwig's paw.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall.

I accidentally bewitched my cousin. He ate half of the cake that Hagrid gave me, and I got mad. My cousin has grown a piggy tail. Please, can one of the teachers at your school remove my cousin's tail, because Uncle Vernon already wants to remove it in a private clinic.

Sincerely, Harry Potter."

An hour later, an angry letter arrived from McGonagall that she would come tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon to figure out what Harry had conjured for his cousin. And for him to warn his uncle and aunt about her arrival.

Harry went down to the living room.

Uncle Vernon hadn't gone to bed yet, sitting in front of the TV and sipping fragrant tea from a thick-walled mug.

"Uh, Uncle Vernon. I wrote to my school about Dudley's ponytail, and tomorrow at two in the afternoon, the deputy principal of my school will come to us to deal with his ponytail. She wrote that she was teaching a class that was doing this."

"Two o'clock, then? Well good."

***

McGonagall, pursing her lips in displeasure, examined Dudley's bare ass and cursed at the crooked-armed idiot with broken sticks, grumbling that only a stupid ranger could arrange such a thing. The indignant aunt complained about Hagrid to the professor. Then McGonagall waved her wand in a complicated pattern and muttered something to herself. Finally, the ponytail disappeared.

"Mr. Potter, are you going to take this player?" She stumbled over the unfamiliar name of a Muggle item. "to school?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Keep in mind that Muggle things work intermittently there. When you arrive at school, contact Professor Babbling, she will put runes that stabilize eclecticism on your toy. And it would be even better if you write to Arthur Weasley. He likes to do things like that. Do you still have any money left after shopping?"

"Yes, Professor, thirty galleons."

"Here, write to Mr. Arthur Weasley that you want him to enchant your record player, he will professionally enchant it for you so that it works at school. But pay him at least five galleons, his family is very poor, and he won't bring up the subject of money."

"Yes, Professor, I'll write to him today."

Professor McGonagall left, and Harry went to write a letter to Arthur Weasley. Harry sat down at his desk and began to compose a letter, finally he settled on the following option:

"Dear Mr. Weasley,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know you're passionate about Muggle things, and I'd really like to ask for your advice and help.

I have a small Muggle cassette player. It means a lot to me, but unfortunately, at Hogwarts, such devices usually don't work because of magic.

Could you, if possible and not too troublesome, enchant it so that it doesn't break down and keeps playing music? I would be very grateful and willing to pay you five galleons for the job.

If it's convenient for you, I can mail the player at any time or do whatever you say.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this letter.

With best wishes,

Harry Potter"

A day later, I received an agreement and a request to send a player with a cassette and headphones in a pouch tied to the owl's paw. Harry put five galleons and a walkman with headphones in the bag. With the cassette inserted. Harry also marveled at the capacity of the small bag.

A week later, he got the enchanted record player back. And a wish to contact more. They say his parents were acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and if anything else he would help him.

***

Harry continued to help his aunt cook and take care of the garden. On the evening of August 31, he made a request to Uncle Vernon.

"Uncle Vernon, could you take me to King's Cross Station by 11 a.m. tomorrow? I have to catch a train to school."

"Yeah. By the way, are all the carpets moth-eaten?"

"I don't know. Hagrid said just take the train."

"And where is your school?"

"Aunt Petunia says she's in Scotland. I just need to get on the train at platform nine and three quarters."

"Which platform?" Uncle Vernon stared at Harry, stunned.

"That's what it says on the ticket."

"You're all crazy. Okay, I'll take you, but only because Dudley also has to catch the train at half past ten."

Chapter 4.1 The Magic Train Station.

August flew by unnoticed. I read textbooks, and in the afternoon I flew on an old broom with my brothers. Bill also advised me to do physical exercises, saying that I walk and run a lot if I want to fulfill my dream of exploring the magical world. And it's worth getting a weapon besides a magic wand. He goes to work himself with a long silver-plated knife, almost a sword. Can I buy one too? If they accept me anyway... And his clothes are made of dragon skin.

In the meantime, it's worth going to the hills and foothills to walk with Hanna.

***

"Dad, what have you been doing for a week?" My father has been coming home early for six days now and going to his garage, where he has a warehouse of Muggle things.

"Harry asked me to enchant a Muggle cassette player. We need to finish it and send it back to him. I enchant it to run on magic instead of batteries. He paid me five galleons for the job, so I put my Muggle studies aside until I was done with his record player."

***

On the first morning of September, I woke up at seven o'clock and couldn't sleep anymore, I was too excited. I got up and put on thin gray trousers and a gray shirt - I probably shouldn't have gone to the train station in a wizard's robe, it was easier to change clothes on the train. Unfortunately, for security reasons, there was only one passage leading to the station and it was on the Muggle side. It's also enchanted to allow only wizards and squibs to pass. Although they do not possess magic in the full sense of the word, they have some abilities. They are very good arithmancers and predictors. But of course they are not accepted at Hogwarts. The platform is universal, so trains depart from it to simpler magic schools. Hogwarts is, in a sense, a school for the elite of the magical world. If you get there, you have high potential and they will try to get their hands on you after graduation. There are too few of us to waste magicians. Even Muggleborns, although they are usually weaker than purebloods and have no clue about our traditions. Therefore, they are accepted into schools in a simpler way. Where they explain everything about the magical world. They say that even Hogwarts used to have a preparatory course on the traditions of the magical world. Both Muggleborns and half-bloods were accepted at ten, for preparatory courses.

I carefully studied the list of necessary books and things sent to me to make sure that I hadn't forgotten anything. I took Bill's light leather jacket out of the closet. I hung it on the back of a chair. After pressing up and shaking my abs, I picked up the Brat on my shoulder and started walking back and forth around the room, waiting for the rest of the inhabitants of the Fox Hole to wake up. Two hours later, my father stuffed huge suitcases into the trunk of our Ford, we all got inside and drove off.

We were at King's Cross station at ten-thirty sharp.

After unloading the suitcases and putting them on the trolleys, we headed to the train station.

There was a large plastic sign with the number nine above one platform, and a similar sign with the number ten above the other. There was nothing in the middle. How many people are here. I've never been in such a crowded place before. Mom put a Muggle distraction charm on us. And we took the trolleys at the station and rolled the suitcases forward, and Dad went to work.

"I thought there'd be a whole bunch of Muggles here..."

A boy with black hair sticking out in all directions and wearing round glasses turned sharply. Did he hear us? Muggleborn or something? He's kind of scared and dressed in nice clothes, but it's clearly not his size. Everything is bought for growth and it is clear that things are already worn. Apparently, he's also after someone, or he bought like us at a second-hand store.

"So, what's your platform number?" Mom asked. Yes, there are quite a lot of platforms at King's Cross. And not all lead to schools.

"Nine and three quarters," Jeannie squeaked, tugging at her mother's arm. "Mom, can I go too?.."

"You're too young, Ginny, so calm down." Mom took her sister with her so as not to leave her alone at home. Grandma Lucretia got sick, and her mom just didn't want to leave Ginny with her grumpy old aunt Muriel. And Ginny wanted to say goodbye to us.

"Well, Percy, you go first." My brother walked towards platforms nine and ten. A crowd of tourists passed between us, and when they finally passed, Percy had already disappeared.

"Fred, you're next," Mom commanded.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," replied the twin she was addressing. "Tell me honestly, woman, how can you call yourself our mother? Can't you see that I'm George?"

They've changed icons again. He's wearing Fred's red badge.

"George, dear, I'm sorry," Mom said apologetically.

"I was joking, I'm actually Fred", said the brother and moved forward. That brute. By the way, Fred said yesterday that they will take off their badges at school.

The other twin shouted after him to hurry up. And after a moment, Fred disappeared from sight, and Ginny and I were left. Now it was George's turn. He also went forward and disappeared into the barrier wall between the platforms as suddenly as the first brothers.

A black-haired boy with green eyes came up to us. Damn, they're almost glowing. Their glasses hide them well, their greenery doesn't catch the eye so much. Although my eyes are bright too. Only blue ones. With a trolley on which stood a suitcase, a cage with a white owl.

"Excuse me," he said timidly.

"Hello, dear." Mom smiled at him "Is this your first time going to Hogwarts? Ron, my youngest, is also a rookie."

She pointed at me.

"Yes," the boy confirmed. "But the thing is... The thing is, I do not know how..."

"...how to get on the platform," his mother finished understandingly for him, and the boy nodded.

"Don't worry." She winked at him cheerfully. "All you have to do is go straight through the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten."

The most important thing is that you can't stop and you can't be afraid that you'll crash into a barrier. If you're nervous, it's better to walk fast or run. You know, you better go right now, in front of Ron.

"Uh-uh... Okay," the boy agreed. He was obviously scared and was going to take the wall with a battering ram. Definitely Muggleborn.

He pushed his cart forward and looked at the barrier. Then he moved towards the barrier. He was constantly being pushed by people scurrying past, besides, the cart was very heavy for him. The boy leaned on the handrail of the cart and ran heavily. approaching the barrier, he entered it and disappeared from sight.

Damn, it's time. I ran after him, pushing a heavy cart. In front of the barrier, I couldn't stand it and squeezed my eyes shut. Phew, it's gone. So, now I wouldn't hurt anyone. I stopped and walked away. Jeanie ran out after me, then my mom came out.

I was on a crowded platform with a scarlet steam locomotive. I know Muggles haven't had them for a long time, but it suits us fine. The sign on the board read:

"School in Birmingham 9.30",

"Hogwarts Express. 11.00",

"School in Wales 12.00".

I looked back and saw that the ticket booth had disappeared, and in its place is an arch with wrought iron gates and a sign: "Platform number nine and three quarters."

Clouds of smoke spewed by the steam locomotive floated over the heads of the people gathered on the platform, and colorful cats scurried under their feet. I immediately hid the Brat in my bosom. By the way, I asked Percy why such a strange name. And he said that the Brat used to be very thin and covered with scabs when his dad found him on the lawn next to the menagerie. I should have removed my rat earlier, but I was already so used to carrying it on my shoulder that I just didn't think about it. The smartest rat understands everything. But lazy... I could hear voices, the creaking of heavy trunks, and the disgruntled hoots of owls talking to each other.

The first few carriages were already packed with schoolchildren. We arrived late because of the traffic jam. Schoolchildren leaned out of the windows to have a last word with their parents, or fought for free places. The boy with the black hair had already moved further along the train, peering into the windows of the carriages in search of a place. We continued to push through the crowd and finally stopped near the carriage, which was located almost at the very back of the train. The twins had already disappeared on the train.

The mother, standing at the last carriage, called them.

"Fred? George? Are you here?"

"We're going, Mom."

The mother suddenly pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. I don't like it so much.

"Ron, there's something on your nose."

I tried to dodge, but she grabbed me and started rubbing the tip of my nose with a handkerchief soaked from a stick.

"Mom, leave me alone!" I protested, but I only managed to free myself when my mother let me go.

"Oh, oh, oh, little Ronnie has a dirty nose," one of the twins sang mockingly.

"Shut up, George," I said.

"Where's Percy?" Mother asked.

"There he goes."

The elder brother came over to the others. He had already changed his clothes, and he was wearing a black school uniform, and on his chest was a shiny silver badge with the letter "P".

"I'll just be a second, Mom," he said.

"I'm there, at the very beginning of the train, where they've allocated a carriage for the prefect's..."

It's starting again. How long can we talk about this? He hasn't shut up all August.

"So you're the prefect now, Percy?" One of the twins was terribly surprised. "Why didn't you tell us, we didn't know."

"Come on, he seemed to be telling us something," the second twin chimed in. "Once..."

"Or two," said the first.

"Or three," the second one continued.

"Or the whole of August..."

"Shut up." Percy waved his hand. He had not resented the twins for a long time, like the rest of the brothers. But I argued with them regularly.

"Why is it that Percy has a new uniform and we have an old one?" George caught himself indignantly pointing at the brand-new robe.

"Because he's a prefect now." It was clear from the mother's voice that she was proud of her son. "Well, dear, I wish you a good study, and send Hermes when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. And then she turned to the twins.

"Okay, now you two. You have to behave yourself this year. If I get an owl telling me again that you've done something wrong- blown up the toilet or..."

"Blew up the toilet?" Fred was amazed. "We have never blown up toilets."

"Why don't we try?" George chuckled. "Great idea, thanks Mom."

"It's not funny," the mother snapped. "And keep an eye on Ron."

"Don't worry, we won't let little Roland get hurt..."

It's better to be unattended than with them. They're constantly testing their jokes on everyone. The potion makers are unfinished. It is worth eating only in the great hall and away from this couple. Although Charlie said once that he ran to have a snack in the kitchen of Hogwarts next to the Halfpalf living room.

"Shut up, you assholes," I muttered again. Although I was younger than the twins, we were all about the same height. I had stretched out quite a lot in the last year, so my brothers' clothes were a little too short for me. It's a good thing my mom bought me used clothes to grow up for this year.

"Yes, Mom, you can't imagine," George began. "Guess who we just met on the train?"

"Do you remember the black-haired boy who stood next to us at the train station?" Fred asked our mom. "Do you know who he is?"

"Who is it?"

"Harry Potter!" George seemed to exclaim.

Oh, what's going to happen now. I looked at my sister.

"Oh, Mom, can I get on the train and look at him? Mom, please..."

Who would doubt it. My sister can't wait to meet the legendary Harry Potter. She had read so many fairy tales about him. Although the Moon proved to her that wrinkled-horned dogwood is much more interesting.

"You've seen him before, Ginny. And don't stare at the poor boy like he's an animal in a zoo. Is it really him, Fred? How do you know that?"

I didn't guess right.

"I asked him," Fred explained. "I saw his scar and asked. But the scar is actually what they say, it looks like a zipper."

"Oh, poor thing, no wonder he was alone!" Mom exclaimed. "I was still thinking: why isn't anyone seeing him off? He's so polite, so well-mannered."

Alone?! He's a hero, but he looks like there's just no one to take care of him?! strange. It says in the books that Director Dumbledore hid him with his relatives in a safe place. I didn't know the Potters were poor either. Although they went to America back in the 70s. And we have a very strained relationship with American magicians. Most of them are Muggleborns and half-breeds. Even the Salem coven of witches has been run by a renegade from the Black family for a hundred years.

"Come on, that's not the point," one of the twins interrupted her. "Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

The mother suddenly became stern.

"I forbid you to ask him about it, Fred. Don't even think about it. Does he really need to be reminded of this today?"

Come on, come on, I won't. The train driver's whistle sounded loudly.

"Come on, hurry up!" the woman said, and the three of us climbed into the car and, remaining in the vestibule, blew kisses to my sister and mother. My sister suddenly burst into tears. Apparently she was upset that she was staying alone in the Hole. At least I used to play chess with her. My sister is a weak player, but I transformed the board into a forest and we had fun for two hours with an extended set.

"Come on, Ginny, we'll fill you up with owls as soon as we get to school," one of the twins comforted her.

"We'll send you a toilet lid from the school bathroom," The second one promised, unhooking a green badge from his hoodie.

"George!" Mom exclaimed indignantly.

"I'm just kidding, Mom."

The train started moving. I saw my mother waving at us, and Jeanie, either laughing or crying, running after the car. But soon she fell behind because the train was picking up speed. The train swerved slightly to the right, and the platform disappeared from view. Houses flashed by outside the window. We walked down the train carriage.

But this is my chance to meet a national hero. I've been wanting to ask him about that Halloween for a long time. Maybe you can even become his friend?

"And where is the compartment where Harry is sitting?"

"We'll show you now." Said one of the brothers. I still haven't figured out who, like Fred.

They've already taken off their badges. After five minutes of walking, we were already standing under the door of the compartment.

Chapter 4.2 The first friend.

I opened the door a crack and looked inside the compartment. A skinny kid with greenish eyes was sitting by the window next to a cage with a snow-white owl and staring out the window.

"Is it free here?" I asked the black-haired boy from the train station, pointing to the seat opposite. "In others, there is nowhere to sit at all." I lied. Although all the compartments we passed were already packed. But it was Harry I wanted to sit with.

He nodded, and I quickly sat down opposite the kid in black trousers and a white shirt under his jacket, who was sitting on the left next to the window. So don't stare openly, don't stare. Aunt Muriel said it was very annoying. I stole a glance at him, but immediately shifted my gaze, pretending that I was very interested in the landscape outside the window. Maybe I should invite him to play my chess while we go to school?

"Hey, Ron!" the twins called out to me as they looked into the compartment. They stopped in the hallway to chat with Alicia Spinet, their friend and a member of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team. "We'll go. Lee Jordan is riding two cars away from us, he's carrying a giant tarantul with him. You're not coming with us, are you? Well, stay here then. And we'll text Mom that we looked after you on the train."

Damn, did they specifically say about the tarantul so that I wouldn't get in their way? I really dislike spiders after their next joke. After all, a thirty-centimeter spider instead of a teddy bear is scary. Besides, he also bit me. Well, Mom had a universal antidote at hand.

"Go on," I said, pushing away the cowardly thoughts of the big spider on the train. Fred probably wants to talk to Alicia, and George just goes with him for company.

"Harry, we still haven't introduced ourselves to you." The twins were smiling. "Fred and George Weasley. And this is our brother Ron. I'll see you later."

"See you later," Harry and I said almost simultaneously. And the twins were gone.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" I blurted out, I was bursting with the desire to ask this question. "I hope this isn't another prank by these red-haired assholes."

Harry nodded.

"Although Aunt Petunia says that according to the documents, I am now Harold, but everyone calls me Harry. And you call me too."

"Roland, but it's all shortened to Ron. And you really have... Well, you know..."

I held out my finger, pointing at Harry's forehead. Harry ran a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead. When I saw the scar, I didn't take my eyes off it.

"So this is where You-Know-Who tagged you..." It's a strange scar, reddish, as if it's a little inflamed.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "But I don't remember that. Just a lot of green light, and icy laughter."

Hmm, judging by the description, it looks like Avada. But they don't survive after it.

"Does it hurt much?" I sat and stared at Harry, not taking my eyes off, as if fascinated, but then I caught myself and stared out the window.

"It sometimes whines at night, like another nightmare. Do you have wizards in your family?" Harry asked. It looked like he was interested in me too. Well, he should have lived with Muggles again. Does he even know about school?

"Uh... yeah. I think so," I said after some thought. "Mom has a younger brother, he works as an accountant, but we never talk about him."

We need to ask him in more detail about his appearance.

"I read that you lived with relatives." I was very curious. Daddy's a fan of Muggles out there. "What are they like anyway?"

"Terrible... Probably not all of them, though. But my aunt, uncle, and cousin are terrible. They're all Muggles and they hate magic, can you imagine? Although our relationship has improved this August. My aunt even lavished on clothes that fit, even if they were second-hand. But I wish I had three magical brothers like you."

Yeah, I guess I guessed right. But who gave Potter to Muggles, doesn't he have an uncle and family on his father's side? However, they left with the ends.

"I have five of them." My voice was not at all cheerful. "I'm the sixth. And now I have to do everything to be better than them. Bill was the best student at school, Charlie played quidditch, and wore the captain's armband. And Percy has become a prefect. Fred and George, of course, do all sorts of nonsense, but they have good grades, and everyone loves them. And now everyone expects me to study as well as my brothers. But even if it does, it won't do anything, because I'm the youngest. So I need to become better than them, and I don't think I can do it. Besides, when you have five brothers, you don't get new clothes very often. So I'm going to school with almost everything old-I got my uniform from Charlie, Bill's magic wand, and Percy's ratty. Even though they bought me new clothes, they are second-hand."

I started to share my pain. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a plump gray rat that was sleeping peacefully. Percy's been completely overfed by the jerk.

No, to think that he had fallen asleep again.

"His name is Brat, and he's completely useless- he sleeps all day. Dad gave Percy an owl when he found out he was going to be the head boy, and I wanted one too, but they don't have a de... I wanted to say that I got ratty instead."

My ears are red. I said a lot of unnecessary things. What will he think of our family? I stopped talking and looked out the window. What if Harry doesn't want to be friends with me because we're poor?

"Ron, you know, I've never had any money of my own. Only my aunt sometimes sent groceries to the store. And I always wore old clothes. They never buy me anything new, even what they bought at a second-hand store needs to be worked out. And for my birthday and Christmas, I usually get stuff like Uncle Vernon's old socks." - I cheered up a bit. Maybe I can really make friends with him? But at the expense of gifts, you will need to write to your mother, let her please him at least for Christmas. She said that our family knew his parents well. "And until Hagrid told me, I didn't even know I was a wizard." Harry continued. "And he didn't know anything about his parents or Voldemort..."

I shrank away from him in fear, clutching the seat with my fingers. Even brave wizards still don't pronounce that name. Is he crazy? My dad wrote my name on a piece of paper, he said that it was okay to write, but they were afraid to even write it. They say there's a summoning charm on the name.

"What are you?" Harry was surprised.

"You called You-Know-Who by name!" There was fear and respect in my voice. Even the bravest people don't say it after the war. Afraid. I thought you should know that...."

"I wasn't trying to be brave," Harry explained. "I just didn't know you couldn't say that name. Now do you understand what I was saying? I still don't know so much, I still have so much to learn... And I'm afraid... I'm afraid that I'll be the worst student in school" it seems that this thought has been bothering him for a long time. "I'm only good at cooking, but what's the point of cooking soups at a magic school?"

I should cheer him up.

"I had a wand myself, but my mother forbade me to do magic. And I only got it this summer. But I was practicing simple spells with the branch, which Percy showed me without my mother knowing. He's totally obsessed with studying. She taught me how to cook simple potions and how to cut the ingredients correctly and grind bones and teeth in a mortar. By the way, I started with soups myself, although my mother grumbled that Ginny should cook."

"But I don't know anything at all, and the textbooks are so complicated, sometimes I don't understand what's written there at all. I only learned English at school, and a little German."

"Don't be afraid," I reassured him. "There are a lot of students at the school who grew up in Muggle families, and they learn everything pretty quickly. After all, the school has a pretty strong selection process. After all, the school has a pretty strong selection process. They just don't take idiots and weaklings there. All graduates of Hogwarts must pass the OWLS at least satisfactorily, and a conversation with a future employer begins with good grades. Some even require excellent grades in their core subjects. I need transfiguration and potions at an excellent level. Additionally, mathematics is worth studying for calculations."

"And that there's no difference at all whether you're a Muggle-born or a hereditary magician?"

"Unfortunately, Muggleborns have problems with the higher branches of magic, which require a large reserve. That's where all these ministry bans came from. Although some rituals are really creepy. And they were banned long ago. But Dad says pureblood families still practice them on holidays. Or to protect their estates."

While we were chatting, the train had left London and was now speeding past fields and meadows where cows and sheep grazed. Harry and I fell silent, looking out the window. He seemed to be interested in everything. Meanwhile, I was thinking about what to talk about with him. And is it even worth being friends? After half an hour of thought, I decided it was worth it. Even with Harry's limited knowledge and family problems. And I liked him as a person.

Fields gave way to moorlands, then forests, then fields again....

At about half past one, there was a knock from the vestibule, and then a smiling woman with a dimple in her chin looked into the compartment.

"Would you like something to eat, kids?" Harry jumped up hastily when he heard the tempting offer.

"No, I brought sandwiches, Mom made them. I just love pork. Just a jug of pumpkin juice with an apple."

I took out a pair of copper knuts and handed them to the woman in exchange for a jug of iced juice, and Harry went out into the hallway to look at the sweets in the cart. Even though I had pocket money, I saved it for Christmas. It's necessary to make presents for Christmas. And Mom cooks delicious, as long as she doesn't put beef in my mouth again. I reached into my suitcase for the roll of sandwiches. So the smell is strange. Damn it! Beef, also without mustard.

A few minutes later, Harry returned loaded with purchases and dumped them on the seat. I looked at the small pile of sweets. Won't it tear?

"Are you that hungry?" I asked him. I was trying on a sandwich. He took a bite and chewed. I washed it down with pumpkin juice. Damn, how do Bill and Percy eat it?

"I haven't eaten since last night," Harry replied, unwrapping a pumpkin cookie and taking half a bite at once. I put down my sandwich and sipped my juice. The witch gave us two paper cups for juice.

"Mom always forgets that I don't like smoked beef," I said sadly. "Well, when Mom stops confusing me with Bill. My brother loves beef. Harry, will you share some sweets? Pour yourself some juice, it's delicious by the way."

Harry handed me a cookie with pieces of dried pumpkin.

"Come on, join us... Can I have a sandwich? I would have eaten something more substantial than sweets."

"Take it, but you won't like these sandwiches- the meat is dry and there's no sauce", I shook my head and tensed up. "Mom just forgot-she has a lot of us... And I really look like a young Bill. I didn't think to take the sauce myself. I decided that since mom gave me pork, you can eat it without mustard. I love pork ham and fried chicken legs. What do you like?"

"My Aunt Petunia's meat pie, she makes it awesome, and pudding with steak and kidneys. We made it last Christmas."

"Can I have some sweets?" I reached for the package of pumpkin cookies. "I love him."

"Come on, eat." Harry nodded at his sweets and took a bite of his sandwich, chewed. "It's really dry." He put down the bread and started nibbling on the smoked meat. I moved to his seat and reached for a pile of cookies and chocolate frogs. Well, their sandwiches. I'll leave it as a stash or give it to Percy. He likes beef, unlike me and the twins. The twins, like Charlie, love smoked fish, and our whole family just loves chicken.

"What's this?" Harry asked, picking up a box of chocolate frogs. "They're not real frogs, are they?"

I almost laughed at the thought of his face when he unwrapped the chocolate frog. After all, she will come to life and start jumping around the compartment until you touch her with your hand. The truth doesn't last long, she was enchanted for only fifteen minutes of moving around the little wizard.

"No, they're not real, they're just made in the shape of frogs, and they're made of chocolate. And look, they're kicking and if you hesitate, they can jump away, it's not far, so let's close the window for now," I smiled. "If you eat, don't throw the liner away-I don't have enough Agrippa..."

"What?" said Harry. He tore open the box and dumped a dozen small boxes of chocolate frogs on the seat.

"Oh, of course you don't know," I said. "There are collectible cards inside. From the series `Famous witches and wizards'. Many guys collect them. I have about five hundred of them, but Agrippa isn't here, and neither is Ptolemy, I think. Frogs on sale are delicious and not expensive. Mom often bought us packaging for the holiday.

Harry unwrapped the `frog' and pulled out a card. The frog came to life and tried to escape, but he automatically jerked his hand and grabbed it, after which he put it in his mouth. Hmm, he only has to be a hunter on the team. Good reflexes and a good build. But he's going to have trouble buying a broom.

"They say these frogs came up with professional quidditch teams to train future hunters. You should be on the Gryffindor team."

After chewing on the chocolate, Harry began to turn the card over in his hands. I was happily munching on soft biscuits with pieces of dried pumpkin. It's delicious, but Mom makes the pastries better anyway. I had such a great raspberry pie last night, and I ate three huge pieces.

"So that's what Dumbledore is like!" Harry exclaimed.

The guardians didn't tell him about the school at all, because Dumbledore is the greatest dark wizard who became the headmaster of the school after a duel with the great necromancer Grindelwald, who unleashed a great magical war in the magical world of Hyperborea.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Dumbledore!" I protested. "Can I have one of the Wizard's Delight Chocolates, try it delicious, especially with hazelnuts."

Harry turned the card over and began to read the insert.

Then he turned the card over again and was surprised.

"He's gone somewhere!" he yelled.

I looked at him in surprise.

"He's moving!" he yelled.

I looked at him in surprise.

"All the magical photos and paintings are moving. Portraits of wizards generally visit each other, can I have another chocolate bar?"

"Help yourself," Harry offered, following the direction of my gaze. "By the way, did you know that Muggles, if a person is photographed, then he doesn't move anywhere?"

"Are you kidding?" It's so boring. Although it can be useful. "What, they're not moving at all? Well done! Dad used to bring the camera home, but he enchanted it so that the photos on the film would move."

Harry stared at the card for a long time, then unpacked the next frog. We ate all the frogs he had bought, and I handed him the cards. Soon he had eight of these cards. By the way, he caught all the frogs quickly, they didn't even have time to go anywhere. It took a long time before Harry put aside the last of his collection. He stared at her for ten minutes. Just like Ginny with her collection of gems.

I woke the Brat up and fed him sliced carrots and grains of cereals, I need to get more at school, otherwise I only have enough for two weeks.

Chapter 4.3 unexpected visits

You should be careful," I advised, noticing that Harry had picked up a bag of nuts in Bertie-Bots glaze. It says they have very different tastes, so that's the real truth. No, there are quite normal flavors there - orange, say, or chocolate, or mint, but sometimes you come across spinach, or raw kidneys, or liver. They say werewolves love them. George claims that he somehow came across a candy with a taste of snot. And I often come across green candies. It's not clear if there's an apple, watermelon, or any kind of grass.

Maybe my brother was joking, but I came across some pretty nasty candies. I chose a green candy, examined it carefully, and took a bite.

"Ugh!" I grimaced bitterly. "Brussels sprouts!"

We had a lot of fun eating these candies. Harry even took a bite out of the ash-gray candy, even though I warned him that it was obviously not tasty. Then he grimaced, spat it out, and washed it down with the rest of the pumpkin juice.

"Pepper."

The area outside the window has changed dramatically. The cultivated fields were replaced by forests, rivers and green hills. We've probably already entered the magical passageway and are driving along the frontier.

Someone knocked on the door of the compartment. Neville Longbottom appeared in the doorway, whom I passed as we walked along the platform. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Excuse me," said the boy, "Have you seen a toad here? A big, green one..."

Harry and I both shook our heads, and Neville started complaining, wiping tears from his eyes. Mom says that his parents were also friends of our family, but something happened to them and now Neville is being raised by his grandmother. And she's already in her late twenties, and she's worse than our Aunt Muriel. They say she studied at the same time as Professor Dumbledore. Only at the Slytherin house, and she was very upset when her only son went to Gryffindor. And then he started working in Aurora instead of working on the family greenhouses with medicinal herbs.

"I've lost her! She's always running away from me!"

"She'll be there," Harry assured him. "I read in science classes that toads reach for water, look in the toilet."

""Yes, I suppose so," Neville said sadly. "Well, if you see her..."

And with that, he left.

"I don't understand why he's so worried." I shrugged my shoulders. "If I had been carrying a toad with me, I would have lost it on the platform. Although my rat is not much better than a toad, so it's not for me to talk about it."

The rat was still asleep, snuggled in my bosom.

"Maybe he's dead a long time ago, or maybe he's asleep-it doesn't make any difference. It looks the same," I said wistfully. "He's just an old guy already, he's been staying with Percy for ten years, according to Mom. Yesterday I tried to enchant it to turn egg yellow - I thought it would look more interesting that way. But it didn't work out. I'll show you now, look..."

I took my wand out of the holster on my arm. It was chipped in several places, and there was a glint of white hair at the end of the wand. Oh, couldn't they at least buy a new wand this year... no, I understand that it suited me, but it's going to fall apart soon. Although, Bill bought himself a new one in his fifth year, maybe I'll buy one for myself. Fred and George made a lot of money selling potions, although they brewed funny potions.

"The unicorn's hair is almost out," I remarked sheepishly. "So..."

Before I could raise my wand, the compartment door opened again. The chubby boy appeared on the doorstep again, but this time there was a girl with thick brown hair with him, who had already changed into a school uniform. Her front teeth were a little too big. I went over the children of wizards in my memory. Half-blood or Muggleborn?

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville lost her, and I'm helping him find her. Have you seen her or not?" The girl asked in a downright bossy tone. Should I advise them to find a prefect or not? No, well, them...

"He's been here before, and we told him we hadn't seen him," I answered, but the girl didn't seem to be listening to me, her attention was focused on the magic wand in my hands.

"Oh, are you showing miracles? Come on, we'll take a look too." She sat down on an empty seat, and I got nervous. No, what a girl.

"Uh, uh," I said hesitantly. "Well, okay."

I cleared my throat and raised my wand again:

"Fat stupid rat,

turn yellow

and become the same as an egg,

like a bright baby bird."

I recited the rhyme that I had heard from Fred and waved my wand as he had shown me yesterday, but nothing happened. Damn, yesterday at least the paws turned yellow, but now nothing happened at all. The brat was still gray and still sleeping peacefully. Damn, it didn't work out again. Was my brother joking? I spent half an hour trying to persuade him to tell me how they turned the Brat green at Christmas to his indignant squeak. They were reciting some rhyme in Latin, and he told me to speak in English.

"Are you sure this is the right spell?" The girl asked. "It's not working, haven't you noticed?"

"Fred painted Percy the rat green in front of me for Christmas after reading a funny rhyme."

"Yes? Maybe it was a childish outburst of magic, I read about it. By the way, I've taken some simple spells out of books to practice a little, and everything worked out. Try saying mutare colorem and imagine that the rat turns yellow. This transfiguration spell takes place in the third year."

"mutare colorem." I imagined a Brat with bright yellow fur.

"Pee! Pee!"

It worked! Hooray, he's yellow as a chicken. Suddenly, its color changed back to gray. Damn, but he calmly changed the color of his fur in winter.

"There are no wizards in my family, I was so terribly surprised when I received a letter from Hogwarts, I mean, I'm pleasantly surprised, because it's the best magic school in the world. And of course, I have already memorized all our textbooks - I hope that this will be enough to study better than everyone else. Reparo." The girl pointed her wand at Harry's glasses wrapped with blue electrical tape. Harry's glasses were as good as new, and he took them off, dumbfounded, and felt their frames on the bridge of his nose. "Oh, by the way, my name is Hermione Granger, and you?"

She was talking very fast, but still I caught the meaning of what she said and I was worried. Well, wow. No one told me that textbooks should be memorized. Exchanged glances with Harry. No, he didn't seem to have learned them either. These are the languages I learned. Mom brought some kind of artifact that she rented on Diagon Alley, and I accelerated my learning of old languages. As well as mathematics with English and Welsh languages. We're neighbors with Muggle Britain, after all. Most of the local magicians speak English. Although purebloods also learn French, and some German languages. After all, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are also very good schools. Like all the Weasleys, we also learned the Irish language as children. They say our clan is from there. But we moved to Wales about four hundred years ago, so we have already begun to be considered indigenous Welsh.

"I'm Ron of the Weasley clan," I muttered.

"Harry Potter," Harry introduced himself.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" The girl's gaze became very attentive. "You can be sure that I know everything about you. I bought a few books that weren't on the list, just for extra reading, and your name is mentioned in Modern History of Magic, and The Rise and Decline of the Dark Arts, and The Greatest Events of the Wizarding World in the Twentieth Century."

Harry calmed down. He apparently decided at first that she knew about his life at the Dursleys. The kid obviously didn't tell me much about his life with these Muggles, just like I did about the poverty of the Weasleys.

"Yes?" That's all Harry said, stunned. Well, yes, in order not to embarrass him, I did not tell him how much they write about him and about dolls too. My sister has been hanging around the house with a Harry Potter doll since she was five. I've been playing chess since I was six years old, and my sister has a lot of dolls. Bill specially carved and painted wooden figures of animals for her. He also offered to carve magical animals for me, but it was more interesting to play with transformed figures from the set.

"God, didn't you know?" the girl was surprised. "If I were you, I would read everything about myself that can be found in books. Yes, do you know which faculty you will get into? I've already found out something, and I want to believe that I'll be in Gryffindor. It seems like this is the best option. I've heard that Dumbledore himself once studied at this faculty. By the way, I think getting into Ravenclaw would be nice too... Okay, we'll go find Neville's toad. You two better change your clothes, I think we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking Neville with her. I nevertheless advised them to go to the prefects in the first carriage and ask them for help in finding Neville's toad. There's a simple search spell, but I don't know it yet. The toad will fly into your hands by itself. Percy said that the summoned object even opens doors and windows with the magic of a wizard. But you can also ask the seer where she is. They guess very well. Especially when they see the probability lines. Although they say that the seer is a charlatan at school now. But she teaches divination well. Bill said that their old gypsy taught them to look at the future. And she taught me how not to get kicked in the head for my predictions.

"I don't know what faculty I'll be in, but I hope she goes to Ravenclaw, she belongs there. I whispered and put the magic wand back in the suitcase," I whispered and put the magic wand back into the case on my hand, "It didn't work out, and it was all because of this stupid spell. Fred assured me that it would work, but now it seems to me that he invented it himself to make fun of me. And transfiguration, on the advice of a girl, did not last long."

"What house do your brothers study at?" Harry asked. The guy was interested in everything.

"Gryffindor," I nodded, saddened again by the thought of the prankster brothers. "Mom and Dad were there too."

I need to go there. Although the program is the same for all faculties now, future fighters traditionally go to the red and gold.

"I don't know what will happen if I get into some other faculty. It would be nice to get into Halfpalf - I still lived on a farm, but I can't imagine what would happen if I was assigned to Slytherin."

With my background in the family of crazy Arthur Weasley, pure-blooded wizards won't let me through Slytherin. The elite of the magical world go there to make acquaintances. Even though we're purebloods, Dad's considered a little crazy because of his fascination with Muggles. And we're not rich, especially by the standards of the sacred twenty-eight mage clans, as they call themselves. Although we are also on this list of families. Besides, Dad's not popular with the purebloods right now because of his Muggle Protection Act.

But I'm kind of ashamed to admit it to Harry.

"This is the faculty where Volde... You-Know-Who studied?"

Harry quickly corrected himself under my gaze.

"Yeah," I nodded and fell silent dejectedly. Hanna is clearly going to future farmers to study.

"You know, it seems to me that the Brat's mustache is still yellow, so the spell has worked at least a little," said Harry. He was obviously trying to comfort me. Well, to hell with him and the rat. I'll paint it later. I'll ask Hermione about the spell when I get used to school. Since she's learned the whole textbook. And it's designed for five courses. Our rat is really magical, according to Mom.

"And your older brothers, who have already graduated from high school, what are they doing now?"

"Charlie is in Romania studying dragons, and Bill works for Gringotts Bank and went to Africa on their business," I explained. "Have you heard of Gringotts? Did you hear what happened the other day? The "Prophet" wrote about it... Although yes, Muggles have other newspapers... Anyway, someone tried to rob a top-secret safe."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Really? And what happened to the robbers?" Damn, he's got a vertical pupil, just like Charlie.

"Nothing. That's why there was so much writing about it, he wasn't caught. Dad says he must have been a very powerful dark wizard, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get into Gringotts and break into the safe and then come out of there unharmed. But the strangest thing is that the robbers didn't steal anything. Of course, everyone is afraid that You-Know-Who is behind this. Well, you've heard about Quidditch, of course." I was absolutely sure of it. It's the best sport in the world. All boys and girls dream of playing it. Or they support a professional team. I have a favorite team, the Pedl Cannons, and I've been rooting for them since I was six years old. "Which team do you support? I'm in favor of the Guns, even though they've been considered outsiders for the last thirty years, since their catcher changed. The old one got injured at the game and doesn't play on the field anymore. In the official announcement of the team, it was said that he had a psychological trauma due to a bludger that knocked him off a broom."

"Uh-uh... I actually don't know any teams," Harry admitted.

"What are you talking about!" I was shocked.

"This is the best game in the world! I started campaigning for my first friend. Although I talked to the other children of wizards, we lived in the wilderness and met very rarely."

And I started explaining to Harry that Quidditch is played with four balls, that each team has seven players and each has its own place on the field and its own functions. Then I started describing the most famous matches that I managed to attend with my brothers. Then he told me what kind of broom I would buy for myself if I had the money. I wanted to try myself as a goalkeeper for the school national team. So I need a broom that's not too fast, although it's maneuverable. The comet is the very thing. They make good brooms and are inexpensive. Unlike the same Nimbus. They usually produce brooms for siker. Although in the last year there have been rumors that the Astor company is going to release a new generation of high-speed broom." I was explaining to Harry the intricacies of the rules of the game when the compartment door opened again. But this was no longer Neville, who had lost his toad in the company of Hermione Granger.

Is there a passageway here?!

Three boys entered the compartment, and in the center was a pale boy with white hair, a typical Malfoy, he looked at Harry with interest. The kid had snow-white hair smeared with gel, and gray eyes. Apparently, Harry's hair is standing up straight. Although the kid definitely overdid it with the hair styling gel.

"It's true?" The pale-faced man asked from the doorway. "Bully Granger said that Harry Potter was riding in this compartment. So it's you, right?"

"That's right," Harry nodded.

The two who came with the pale-faced man were tough guys, and they looked rather unpleasant. Flanking the pale boy, they resembled his bodyguards.

"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the pale-faced man casually introduced them, noticing that Harry was looking at his companions. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

I cleared my throat. Well, they gave him a name. Dragon, wow. Although I've heard that the Malfoys are descended from ice dragons. Just like the Weasleys from the fiery ones. That's why we fight all the time. I could barely contain my laughter. Draco Malfoy looked at me disapprovingly.

"You find my name funny, don't you? I won't even ask you your name. My father told me that if you see a red-haired and freckled boy, it means he's from the Weasley family. A family with more children than their parents can afford."

And a punch in the face for that?

Having delivered this murderous tirade, Malfoy turned back to Harry:

"You'll soon find out, Potter, that there are several wizarding dynasties in our world that are much cooler than all the others. You don't need to be friends with people who aren't worthy of it. I'll help you figure it out. You're my second cousin."

He held out his hand to shake, but Harry pretended not to notice. Damn, he's my second cousin, just like Harry. But my grandmother Lucretia can't stand the Blacks, and neither can the Malfoys. She comes from the Black family herself, and when she married Pruitt, there was a scandal.

"Thanks, but I think I can figure out who deserves what," Harry said coldly.

Draco Malfoy did not blush, but pink spots appeared on his pale cheeks.

"I'd be more careful if I were you, Potter," He said it slowly. "If you're not more polite, you'll end up like your parents. They, like you, didn't know what was good for them and what was bad for them. If you hang out with scum like Weasley and that Hagrid, it'll be worse for you. You might be a half-breed because of your dirty-blooded mother, but you're twenty-eight."

Harry and I rose from our seats at the same time. My face turned copper-red. Right now, someone's going to take a hit. I'll smash his nose without any magic. How dare he call someone a mudblood? The devouring brat.

"Repeat what you said," I demanded. I started flexing my arms before hitting the sturdy left one. It's not right somehow. We're magicians. Even future ones.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, aren't you?" Malfoy said contemptuously.

"Yes, if you don't get out of here right away," Harry said bravely.

"Oh, we're not going to leave at all, are we, guys?" Malfoy chuckled, turning to his companions. "Besides, we're hungry, and you've got a lot of food here."

I remembered the fighting techniques that Bill showed me last summer. First, drop the burly man on the right, then punch the left one in the nose, and while they come to their senses, give this blond brute a hard time.

Goyle reached for the chocolate frogs on one of the seats. I jumped on Creb, but before I could touch him, Goyle let out a terrifying scream. There was a Brat hanging from Goyle's hand, biting into his finger with small, sharp teeth. Crabbe and Malfoy staggered back, and Goyle waved his hand, trying to shake off the rat and howling in pain. And as soon as the Brat finally unclenched his teeth and flew away, hitting the closed window, all three of them instantly disappeared. They probably thought there were more rats hiding in the compartment, or maybe they heard footsteps, because a second later Hermione Granger looked into the compartment.

"What's going on here?" she asked, looking at the sweets scattered on the floor and me holding the rat by the tail.

"I think he's passed out," I said, turning to Harry. And then I took a closer look at the Brat. "No... I can't believe it! Imagine, he fell asleep again."

The brat was actually asleep. By the way, what else is this about the Hagrid clause? Is this where he saw him with Harry? Isn't he a forester and doesn't go further than Hogsmeade Castle? Although Harry seemed to say something about Hagrid bringing him a letter. So stop. Did he take him shopping?! Were all the professors busy?

"Have you ever dated Malfoy before?" I asked.

"Yes, I met him at Madame Malkin's when I was buying robes. He was all about kicking Muggleborns out of Hogwarts. And I'm like a Muggle-born myself, since I grew up with Muggles. And then I went shopping with Hagrid, and Malfoy saw him through the window. And he said he was a drunk. After Aunt Petunia's lectures about my drunken parents, I'm just freaking out with such words. She always used to say that my parents were lazy drunks and crashed in a car after drinking too much alcohol. I almost got killed, too, and now I'm wondering why she was talking about it. You-know-who killed them, and she knew it. Didn't want to scare you? So I grabbed my robes and ran out of the store. I didn't even look at my clothes. Although there was money. My aunt had to ask me to buy shirts and trousers at a second-hand store. And even though she takes good things, she makes me grow up. I look very small in them. But she gave me good shoes. Although I grumbled that it was better to take boots for the winter, but I'm used to light ones. She also gave me Uncle Vernon's school sweater at school.

"Harry, it's really cold at school in winter, the upperclassmen use warming charms to escape, and the younger students buy warm clothes. I'm going to wear warm jeans and a knitted sweater in winter."

"Damn, is my aunt really going to have to write in November to buy more things, it's a damn shame. I'm sitting on their necks, because they don't even pay my allowance, I found out from Uncle Vernon."

Yeah, what can I say. By the way, why did they send this bully with him? He hadn't even told him how to get on the platform, and neither had Harry's clothes. Madame Malkin seemed to think that he, like all Muggleborns, only needed robes. But they buy them in their stores. And Harry is too shy.

"I've heard about his family." I began in a gloomy tone, remembering Dad's stories about the Malfoy family. They were one of the first to come back to our side when You-Know-Who disappeared. They said he had bewitched them. There's a spell that gets you locked up in Azkaban for life. And my father doesn't believe in it. He said that Malfoy's father didn't even need a reason to turn to the Dark Side. They say that pure-blooded magicians like to kill Muggles during rituals and generally for entertainment, as they did in the magical war.

Hermione was still standing in the doorway of the compartment, and I turned to her:

"Is there anything we can help you with?" And why is this girl picking on us. I've never understood my sister and her friend Luna. And here's a total stranger. What's another crush on Harry? She's staring at me, though. Oh, whatever. I have Hannah, damn, she's probably going to Halfpalf.

"You'd better hurry, otherwise you won't have time to change clothes. I was just in the driver's cabin talking to him. He said we were almost there. Have you been fighting here? They're good, nothing to say. We haven't reached school yet, and we've already got into trouble!"

When will she leave us alone? How to get her out of here. Oh, right.

"It was the Brat who fought, not us." I glared at the girl. "Why don't you come out and let us change?"

"Of course. Actually, I just came to see you because there is a terrible fuss in all the carriages, everyone is behaving like little children and rushing through the corridors." Hermione snorted contemptuously, as if to say that she disapproved of such behavior. "By the way, you have dirt on your nose, you know?"

I glared after her, and Harry stared out the window. Outside the window, where the mountains towered and endless forests stretched, it began to darken, and the sky turned dark purple with the first stars. The train slowed down.

Harry and I quickly took off our jackets and pulled on long black robes. My robe was a little too short for me, and my gray plaid trousers were sticking out from under it. And leather boots. I was a little shy about my appearance. But I'll grow up before the end of the year. The robes will become even shorter, and the trousers with the legs turned up will be fine for me.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in five minutes." The driver's loud voice echoed through the carriages. Traditionally, squibs who were educated on the railway by Muggles worked as machinists. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be delivered to the school separately. Do not forget the familiars in the compartment. We're taking it with us."

Harry got nervous, and I turned very pale.

"Harry, take Hedwig with you, and let her go on the platform. There's an owlery in the castle. She'll find her own way. Leave the cage here."

I put the Brat in my bosom. We stuffed the rest of the sweets into our pockets and went out into the hallway, where the rest of the children were already crowding. Hedwig, the delighted owl, flew next to us.

The train slowed down and slowed down and finally stopped. There was a terrible crowd in the corridor, but after a few minutes I finally found myself on an unlit small platform. It was cold outside, and I shivered. Damn, I shouldn't have taken off my jacket. Then a large lamp swung over the heads of the guys standing on the platform, and I heard a voice:

"Freshmen! Freshmen, come here! Hey, Harry, are you all right?"

Above the sea of heads towered the shining face of a giant. I wonder if Hagrid fell into a cauldron of bone as a child? And why was he expelled from school? Charlie said he was an underachiever.

"So, is everyone here? Then follow me! And look at your feet! Freshmen, follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, we followed Hagrid down a narrow path that sloped sharply down. We were surrounded by such dense darkness that it seemed to me as if we were making our way through a forest thicket. All conversations died down, and we walked in almost complete silence, except for Neville sneezing a couple of times.

"Just a few more seconds and you'll see Hogwarts!" Hagrid shouted without turning around. "Okay, careful! Everyone over here!"

"Oh-oh-oh-!" there was a collective, delighted exclamation.

We were standing on the shore of a large black lake. And on the other side of it, on top of a high cliff, stood a giant castle with turrets and loopholes, and its huge windows reflected the light of the stars strewn across the sky.

"Four people per boat, no more" Hagrid commanded, pointing to a whole flotilla of small boats bobbing near the shore.

Harry and I found ourselves in the same boat as Hermione and Neville. Pancake... As they say, you will communicate with whoever you sail with. Not with this nerd. It would be better if Hannah came to us. I would have chosen another boat, but Harry balked. Then he said he liked Neville. And we sat down first, and then Hermione dragged Neville to us with a toad in her hands.

"Are you seated?" Hagrid, who had a private boat, shouted. "Then go ahead!"

The flotilla moved, the boats glided across the glass-smooth lake. The boat glided quietly across the dark surface of the lake, cutting through the mirrored surface and leaving light ripples in its wake. There was an almost magical silence around - only a barely audible melody, as if woven from wind and water, quietly poured from somewhere, as if nature itself was humming a slow song.

Harry sat in the stern, holding the oars tightly, but hardly worked with them - the boat seemed to float by itself, driven not by force, but by some inner agreement of all four. He looked ahead to where the silhouette of Hogwarts loomed on top of the hill: the towers stretched to the sky, warm light flickered in the windows, and the castle seemed not just a school, but a safe haven waiting for them back.

Nearby, on the middle bench, I whistled softly to the beat of the music, glancing at my fellow travelers from time to time and checking if everything was in order.

"You know," I said softly, turning to Harry, "when you're floating like this, and it's quiet, and the castle is ahead... it doesn't seem like any problems can be really scary. Well, of course they can, but it's like everything's getting a little smaller. It's like a lake is washing away excess."

Hermione, sitting closer to the bow of the boat, tilted her head slightly, listening to the melody.

"It's not just music," she said softly. "I read that sometimes there is... well, not magic on the lake, but something like an echo of ancient enchantments. It's soothing. Probably so that the freshmen wouldn't be scared."

Neville, who had been staring at the water in silence, as if afraid to move and rock the boat, exhaled softly and squared his shoulders a little.

"I feel better when you're around." He confessed without looking up. "Even if there's something scary ahead."

I snorted, but there was no mockery in that snort-just a habitual attempt to hide excitement behind a joke.

"Well, if anything, we'll just hide behind Hermione. After all, she had already learned all the textbooks."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled.

"Thanks for your trust, Ron. But it's better if we act together."

Harry finally put down the oars and sat down next to his friends. The boat continued to sail as if it knew the way.

"We can really do this," he said softly, looking at each of them in turn. "Whatever's waiting in the castle. Together."

The music became a little quieter, as if nodding in response. And ahead, the windows of Hogwarts shone brighter and warmer, promising that there would always be a place for them here.

Everyone was silent, staring at the huge castle. The closer we got to the cliff he was standing on, the more he towered over us.

"Bow down and close your eyes!" Hagrid shouted loudly as we approached the cliff.

Everyone tilted their heads, and the boats ended up in a thicket of ivy that hid a huge crevice.

"This is so that we don't find out where the entrance to the underground harbor is. My dad told me about it."

After passing through the thicket, we entered a dark tunnel, which, apparently, ended right under the castle, and soon moored to an underground pier and disembarked on the rocks.

"Oh, my toad! I missed her again." Neville wailed as we floated through the dark tunnel.

The giant was examining the empty boats and apparently noticed something.

"Hey, you!" shouted Hagrid, addressing Neville. "Is this your toad?"

"Oh, Trevor!" Neville yelled happily, stretching out his arms and hugging his toad to him.

Didn't he perform the familiar binding ritual on his toad? What the hell was he driving her at all? This is my pet rat, he doesn't give a damn about anything anymore after the twins' jokes. Although, as long as I can remember, he was very calm: he ate and slept. Yes, sometimes I played with Percy and my rat. And then, after another joke, he used to get up on his hind legs and squeak indignantly.

Hagrid led us up a flight of stone stairs, lighting the way with a huge lamp.

Another flight of stairs and now we were standing in front of a huge oak door.

"Is everyone here?" Hagrid asked. Then he loudly counted the freshmen. "Hey, have you lost your toad yet?"

Neville hugged his pet closer.

After making sure that everything was in order, Hagrid raised his huge fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Chapter 5.1 Distribution

The door swung open. Behind her stood a tall, black-haired sorceress in emerald-green robes. Her face was very stern, and it was better not to argue with such a lady, and in general it was better to stay away from her. Although Percy told me that Professor Snape is even worse.

"Professor McGonagall, here are the freshmen," Hagrid informed her happily.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the witch nodded at him. "I'm taking them."

She turned and walked forward, ordering us to follow her. We found ourselves in a huge hall-so huge that our house could easily fit in there. Torches burned on the stone walls, just like at Gringotts, the ceiling was lost somewhere above, and a beautiful marble staircase led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the cobblestone floor. As I passed the closed door on the right, I heard the sound of hundreds of voices-the whole school must have already gathered there.

But Professor McGonagall wasn't leading us there at all, but into a small, empty dining room. It was crowded with freshmen, and we huddled together, breathing down each other's necks and looking around uneasily.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall finally greeted us. "The banquet for the start of the school year will begin soon, but before you sit down at the tables, you will be divided into faculties. Sorting is a very serious procedure, because from now until graduation, your faculty will become your second family. You will study together, sleep in the same bedroom and spend your free time in a room specially designated for your faculty.

That's why I was against such a neighborhood in the boat. I have no desire to see the omniscient Hermione constantly by my side and listen to her lecture. Percy is enough for me. I thought my ears would curl up in the summer. Like Bill's when his Brazilian friend took offense at him and sent him a damn hat. Mom took the photo, as a warning to all the other children.

"There are four faculties in the school - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each of them has its own ancient history, and outstanding wizards and sorceresses have emerged from each. While you are studying at Hogwarts, your achievements will earn your house prize points, and points will be deducted for each violation of the schedule. At the end of the year, the faculty with the most points wins the competition between the faculties, which is a great honor. Points are awarded both for academic success and for bravery, hard work and resourcefulness. I hope each of you will be a worthy member of your family. The sorting ceremony will begin in a few minutes in the presence of the entire school. In the meantime, you have some time, I advise you to collect your thoughts."

Her eyes lingered on Neville's robes, which had come loose so that the clasp was under my left ear, and then on my nose. Damn, should I put some stain cream on him? What I've got on him at all, it's all the twins. Exactly. Harry tried to smooth his unruly hair with a trembling hand. As he told me, it's useless. He's had such hair since early childhood that it sticks out in all directions. I asked him why he didn't put it in a ponytail like Bill. I'll grow a tail myself when I grow up. Despite Mom's protests. She always wants to cut Bill's hair.

"I'll come back here when everyone is ready to meet you." Professor McGonagall reported and went to the door. Before she left, she turned around. "Please be quiet." Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"And how will this selection take place?" he asked me. I remembered Fred and George's heartbreaking story about their sorting the year before last.

The Fox Hole smelled of baked bread, apples, and something eternally sparkling, as if the kitchen itself contained echoes of all the antics that had happened in this house. An old copper teapot hung above the table, grumbling to itself from time to time, and a twelve-hand clock ticked softly in the corner.

I sat on the edge of the chair, swinging my legs and trying to look as old and serious as possible, but curiosity still broke through in every question.

"Well, tell me already! What was it like when you were sorted? Was it scary?"

Fred and George exchanged glances.

"They had that look that twins have exactly one second before a story begins, in which truth and fiction are so tightly intertwined that it's impossible to make out."

"Is it scary?" Fred shuddered dramatically. "Yes, I almost turned gray. The hat told me that I belong in Slytherin, just like my brother. He barely talked us into going to Gryffindor."

George snorted and slapped his brother on the shoulder.

"He didn't turn gray, he just squeezed his eyes shut. But when they sorted me... that's when the real thing began."

I leaned forward, almost burying my nose in the table. Damn, it's not like I can't get used to a growing body. Sometimes I'll trip over something, sometimes I won't fit into the jamb. I'm sick of it.

"What started?" I asked curiously.

Bill, who was sitting next to her, stirring the cooling cocoa with a spoon, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"A troll," George said solemnly. "Right in the Great Hall. At the very moment when the Hat shouted `Gryffindor!' for Fred."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on! A troll?! On sorting?!"

"It's true," Fred nodded, very seriously.

"And they all screamed," said George.

"The professors rushed back and forth, robes fluttering, and we were standing in the middle of the hall, and the hat was still on my head. And she was right in my ear: `Improvise if you want to go to Gryffindor, this is a challenge of increased difficulty.'"

"And then," Fred lowered his voice, and began to pour in turns with George, as they heroically fought the troll. And then the hat was yelling Gryffindor at the whole hall.

...

Bill couldn't stand it anymore and snorted into his fist. The twins immediately stared at him with an offended look.

"Bill, you're ruining the legend!"

"I'm sorry," Bill wiped his eyes, trying to become serious again. "Go ahead. Trolls and stinky bombs with fireworks. Very strategic."

Fred waved his hand. After another half hour of tales about fighting the troll, I realized that the brothers were just hitting my ears, and Bill was already laughing out loud.

I stared at them with my mouth slightly open. The trashed great hall, wow.

"And you didn't have anything?"

"It was," Fred sighed. "We were forced to help in Professor Sprout's greenhouses for a week."

"But then she let us try to grow a screeching violet," George immediately perked up. "So in the end, everything was not in vain."

Bill finally stopped laughing and put his hand on my shoulder.

"You know, Ron, everyone has their own sorting. Someone with a troll, someone just with a Hat that thinks for a long time. But in Gryffindor, it's not how you got there that matters. And the fact that you remain yourself, even when everything is flying around you."

I nodded slowly, trying these words on myself. And if, like Hannah, the hat sends me to Halfpuff. Although it's better to go to the farmers than to these snake aristocrats.

"And if... if the Hat thinks for a long time?" I asked quietly.

Fred immediately leaned across the table towards me.

"Then you just tell her: `I'm from the Weasley family. Everyone in our family is a little noisy, but they have their own way.' And she'll understand right away."

George winked.

"And if the troll suddenly appears again, hit him harder on the head, as Fred did at the end of the story."

At that moment, mam voice came from the hallway:

"Dinner is on the table!" and the whole company reached for the plates in unison.

But I smiled to myself for a long time, imagining a Hat whispering in his ear in the Great Hall, and somewhere nearby the twins were already pulling dung bombs out of their pockets, just in case.

"We'll probably have to go through some kind of ordeal," I replied. "Fred said it hurt a lot, but I think he was joking, as always." I decided not to talk about the test of the old troll hat, most likely the twins lied to me.

Harry looked around uneasily. Everyone was terrified and silent, except for Hermione Granger, who stood next to us and whispered to everyone around about which spells she had already learned, and wondered aloud which one she would need at the selection ceremony. Does she even think with her head? Who will demand to conjure the firstborn. Yes, if we can do something by the middle of the year, it's already good.

I stood and prepared for the selection. I hope the twins were joking about the troll after all.

Suddenly, heart-rending screams cut through the air, and I saw Harry jump in surprise. Damn, I was scared myself when I saw them. I've only seen our ghoul from the undead before.

"What?.." Harry began, but stopped, his mouth hanging open. Just like everyone else.

Ghosts were seeping into the room through the wall opposite the door-there were probably about twenty of them. Pearly-white, translucent, they glided around the room, talking among themselves and, it seems, not noticing our gathering at all or pretending not to notice. Apparently, they were arguing.

"And I'm telling you that you need to forget about his sins and forgive him", said one of them, who looked like a little fat monk. They say he was a pious Muggle-born wizard whom Lady Halfpalf accepted to study at her faculty. "I think we just have to give him another chance..."

"My dear Monk, didn't we give Peeves more chances than he deserved? He shames and insults us, and in my opinion, he was never really a ghost..."

The ghost in tights and a round puffy collar fell silent and stared at the freshmen, as if he had just noticed us.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

No one answered.

"These are the new students!" The Fat Monk exclaimed, smiling at the crowd. Harry and I couldn't help but smile back, the ghost was so good-natured. "Waiting for the selection, I suppose?"

Several people nodded uncertainly.

"I hope you get to Hufflepuff!" The Monk continued to smile "My favorite faculty, you know, I used to study there myself."

No, I don't need to go to the farmers and employees of the ministry. Although if there is a choice between farmers and aristocrats, I will choose farmers, if only because Hannah will be there.

"Get out of here," said a stern voice. "The selection ceremony is about to begin."

It's Professor McGonagall back. She looked sternly at the ghosts, and they hurriedly began to seep through the wall and disappear one by one.

"Form a line," the professor commanded, addressing us, "and follow me!"

Harry stood behind the boy with the blond hair, and I stood behind him, and we left the small hall, crossed the hall we had already visited at the entrance to the castle, and went through the double doors into the Great Hall.

Oh, the beauty. The hall was lit by thousands of enchanted candles floating in the air above the four long tables where the senior students were sitting. The tables were filled with gleaming plates and goblets with Celtic designs. At the other end of the hall, the teachers were sitting at the same long table. Professor McGonagall led the first-year students to this table and ordered them to turn their backs to the teachers and face the upperclassmen.

There were hundreds of faces in front of me, pale in the semi-darkness, like dim lamps. Among the upperclassmen, the silvery, blurry silhouettes of ghosts flashed here and there. My brothers were sitting at a table with a burgundy tablecloth. Percy is closer to the edge of the table, and the twins are somewhere in the middle.

"It was specially enchanted to look like the sky", Hermione whispered, standing next to him again. "I read it in The History of Hogwarts."

She noticed that Harry was staring at the ceiling and was whispering in his ear, moving closer to us.

It was hard to believe that it was actually a ceiling. It seemed to me that the Great Hall was under the open sky. Even though I'm used to magic, it's really fascinating. There are no clouds today either, which is good. I don't even want to think about it if it was raining.

It is not customary to help children at school. As you can do magic, you also take care of yourself with charms. Some even collect their first-aid kits so that they don't have to go to the hospital wing for nothing. Under the supervision of my mother, I brewed several body-restoring potions and sleeping pills in our basement at home. But Harry is taking analgin and bandages with him, his aunt says she put them in her backpack at the last moment and told him to wear them all the time.

I heard a sound and, looking down at the ceiling, saw that Professor McGonagall had placed a very ordinary-looking stool in front of a row of first-year students and placed a pointed Magic hat on the seat. The hat was patched, worn, and terribly dirty. I remembered the beginning of the twins' story about the troll and shuddered, what if it wasn't a lie?

Everyone in the room was staring at the Hat, and I began to look at it carefully, too. There was complete silence in the hall for a few seconds. And then the Hat moved. The next moment, a hole appeared in her, resembling a mouth, and she began to sing, in a hoarse male voice:

"Maybe I'm ugly to look at,

But don't judge me harshly.

You can't find a smarter hat than me.,

Whatever you say..."

And the hat sang about the qualities of the students for each faculty. I wonder if she sings the same thing every year?

"... Do not be afraid of me, put on bravely,

And I will predict your fate more accurately.,

Than someone else will do it.

You're in good hands.,

Even though I'm armless, alas,

But I'm proud of myself."

Damn, all you have to do is try on a hat. These are the idiot brothers. Damn the troll, but I almost believed it. And even Bill didn't reassure me when I asked him in May.

As soon as the song ended, the entire audience applauded unanimously. The hat bowed to all four tables. Her mouth disappeared, she fell silent and froze.

"So, all each of us will need to do is try it on?" I whispered. "I'm going to kill that liar Fred, because he told me we were going to have to fight the troll."

Harry forced a smile. I hope I get to Gryffindor. The main thing is that this nerdy Granger doesn't get there. Although what should she do with us? She's on her way to Ravenclaw.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment in her hands.

"When I say your name, you will put on your hat and sit on a stool", She said. "Let's get started. Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with white pigtails and a pink face, either from embarrassment or fright, stumbled out of the line, went to a stool, took a Hat and sat down. The hat, apparently, was a large size, because, once on Hannah's head, it covered not only her forehead, but even her eyes. And after a moment...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted loudly.

Those who were sitting at the rightmost table with a yellow tablecloth burst into applause. Hannah got up from the stool, went to this table and sat down in an empty seat.

"Congratulations, Hannah!" I yelled at her back, and the girl turned around and said:

"Good luck, Ron."

I noticed that the Fat Monk who was hovering at the table waved at her affably.

"Bones, Susan!" Well, this is a future employee of the ministry, who else would she be with such an aunt? She is now the head of the judicial department.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted again, and Susan hurriedly scurried to her desk, sitting next to Hannah.

"Booth, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Now there was applause at the second table on the left, and several seniors rose from their seats to shake hands with Terry, who joined them.

Mandy Brocklehurst also went to the Ravenclaw faculty table, and Lavender Brown became the first new member of the Gryffindor faculty. The table on the far left exploded with cheers, and I saw my brothers among the shouting.

Millicent Bulstrode was assigned to Slytherin.

I started to worry. What if they send me to another faculty?

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Well, this is also a future employee of the ministry. He went to Susan Bones, and I grimaced with displeasure when Hannah gave him a friendly smile.

Sometimes the hat, as soon as it appeared on the head of another boy or girl freshman, almost instantly called the faculty, and sometimes she thought. So, Seamus Finnigan, the blond boy standing in front of Harry, sat on a stool for almost a minute until the Hat sent him to the Gryffindor table.

"Hermione Granger!"

Apparently, Hermione, unlike me, was looking forward to her turn and had no doubt of success. When she heard her name, she almost ran to the stool and in the blink of an eye put a hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the Hat.

I groaned, despite all my doubts, I believed that I would end up where my brothers were, and I didn't want to study with the pushy and omniscient Hermione.

I wasn't the only one nervous. When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he managed to stumble and fall before he even reached the stool.

The hat thought seriously before shouting "GRYFFINDOR."

Well, where did he go? He belongs in Hufflepuff, according to what I know about him. Hereditary herbologists. Neville, upon hearing his verdict, jumped up from his chair and rushed to the table where the students of the faculty were sitting, forgetting to take off his hat. The whole room roared with laughter, and Neville, catching himself, turned around and ran back to hand the Hat to Morag MacDougal.

When Malfoy was called, he walked out of the line with a terribly important look, and his dream came true in the blink of an eye - the hat, barely touching his head, immediately screamed:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Well, I didn't even doubt it. Malfoy joined his friends Crabbe and Goyle, who had previously been selected for the same faculty, and looked extremely pleased with himself.

There were fewer and fewer freshmen who had not passed the selection process.

Moon, Nott, Parkinson, the Patil twin girls, then Sally-Ann Perks, and finally...

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry took a step forward, and lights of surprise flashed across the room, accompanied by loud whispers.

"Did she say Potter?"

"The same Harry Potter?"

Before the Hat was placed on Harry's head, a huge hall filled with people stared at him, leaning forward to get a better look at him. I wonder where he will end up?

Harry gripped the seat of the stool tightly with both hands. A couple of minutes have passed and now:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I wonder if he was arguing with the hat. Harry took off his hat and walked slowly to his desk. Percy jumped up from his chair, grabbed Harry's hand and started shaking it, while Fred and George screamed at the top of their voices:

"Potter is with us! Potter is with us!"

After shaking hands with everyone, Harry plopped down on an empty chair, finding himself right in front of the ghost in tights that I saw before the ceremony began. The ghost patted his hand.

Behind us was the main table, where the teachers were sitting. Hagrid was sitting in the corner, and when he caught Harry's eye, he gave him the thumbs-up, and Harry smiled back. And in the center of the table was a large golden chair, resembling the throne on which Albus Dumbledore sat. Dumbledore's silver hair shone brighter than the ghosts, brighter than anything in the hall.

There was also Professor Quirrell, a nervous young man. Right now, Quirrell had a big purple turban on his head, so the professor looked very strange. The ceremony was coming to an end, and there were only three of us left. Lisa Turpin was enrolled in Ravenclaw, and now it's my turn. I even turned green with fear. What if the hat wants to send me to Slytherin like Fred? I walked over to the stool, collapsed on it, and McGonagall put a hat on my head. And a second later, the Hat screamed loudly:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Chapter 5.2 The feast

I went to Harry's, to the Gryffindor table. He applauded loudly along with the others until I plopped down next to him. Well, the twins are sitting far away from me. They have a habit of throwing something nasty on their plate. And unfortunately Percy is sitting almost opposite.

"That's great, Ron, that's great", Percy praised me with an important look, while the last one on the list, Blaze Zabini, was already heading for the Slytherin table. "Roland, I hope you fed the Brat on the train." Percy asked, worried.

"Don't worry, Percy gave him some food. I was thinking of feeding him festive food from the feast."

"Ron, I hope you remember that you can't eat rats with spices?"

"Damn, I completely forgot, okay, I'll peel him a piece of potatoes and chicken."

"You can also give him a piece of mild cheese or your favorite pumpkin pie."

While I was chatting with my older brother, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Magic Hat out of the hall.

I looked at the empty dinner plate in front of me. The hall was decorated with green plants on the walls, and floating candles in the air. I just realized that I'm insanely hungry. It seemed that I had eaten the sweets I bought on the train not a few hours ago, but several centuries ago. Albus Dumbledore rose from his throne and spread his arms wide. There was a radiant smile on his face. He looked as if nothing in the world could please him more than the students of his school sitting in front of him.

"Welcome!" He said. "Welcome to Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. These are the words: Oaf! A bubble! The remainder! A trick! That's it, thank you all!"

He's weird. Although at his age, such behavior is excusable. How old is he, a hundred and fifty years old? Dumbledore sat down in his seat. The audience burst into cheers and applause. Harry sat and was surprised and silent.

"Is he... is he a little crazy? Harry asked uncertainly, turning to Percy, who was sitting on his left."

"Is he crazy?" Percy asked absently, but then caught himself. "He's a genius! The best magician in the world! But you're right, he's a little crazy. How about some fries, Harry?"

Percy began to help Harry onto a large plate, just a little at a time.

There was a tray of magical snacks next to us. I helped myself to some cheese sticks, and Harry decided to try one magic bag - a minitartalette with mushroom cream. Hermione held out her hand for a ham and cheese canap" on a skewer. After eating a few cheese sticks, I tried the magic bag, and piled on a plate of normal food.

There were dishes all around: Shepherd's pie, chicken cutlets in breadcrumbs in the form of wings, baked salmon with lemon and dill, with a side dish of mashed potatoes, and a mix of baked vegetables. The side dish was mudir potatoes, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes, stewed buckwheat porridge in pots.

I helped myself to a piece of salmon with mashed potatoes and chicken cutlets. Then I took a couple of medium-sized potatoes in a uniform and handed them to the Brat sitting on my lap. I also put some ham and a piece of cheese on him, removing them from the skewer. Then he attacked the food. She was absolutely gorgeous.

Harry tried a little of everything, and Hermione helped herself to a shepherd's pie and began to eat it in conversation with Percy.

"It looks good," the ghost in tights remarked sadly, watching Harry eat meatballs with buckwheat porridge from a pot.

"Do you want to" Harry began, but the ghost shook his head. "I have enough magic from the school's source, just like the rest of the school's ghosts."

I finished the cutlets and salmon and reached for the shepherd's pie.

"I haven't eaten regular food for almost four hundred years now. I don't have any need for food, but the truth is, I don't have enough. By the way, I don't think I've introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Delphington, at your service. The ghost who lives in Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" I blurted out. "My brothers told me about you - you're Almost a Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy." The ghost began in a stern tone, but Seamus Finnigan beat him to it. The blond-haired boy who stood in front of Harry in the line. He is the descendant of a combat fire mage.

"Almost headless? How can you be almost headless?"

Damn, not at the table. Sir Nicholas looked a little displeased, as if the conversation hadn't gone where he wanted it to go.

"Just like that," he replied irritably, tugging at his left ear. The head separated from the neck and fell onto the shoulder, as if held on a spring and activated by pressing on the ear. Obviously, someone tried to behead him, but did not finish the job. The Almost Headless Nick's head was resting on his shoulder, smiling contentedly as he watched the expressions on the freshmen's faces. Hermione dropped her fork in shock, then pushed her plate away from her. Then he pulled on his right ear and his head snapped back into place. The ghost cleared his throat.

Damn, I've lost my appetite. But fuck you. I'm going to eat! Unfortunately, I'm hungry almost all the time.

"Percy, how do I ask the house elves for other food?"

"Tap your wand on the table and say what you want. Only politely."

I took out my wand and tapped its tip a couple of times on the tabletop.

"Can I have fried chicken, please?"

Ten minutes later, a small dish with fried chicken legs appeared in front of me. Reaching out, I helped myself to fried chicken drumsticks and began to eat. I've already eaten the pie. Damn, it's like I haven't eaten since morning. And we ate a lot of sweets on the train.

"Ron, can I have a leg?" Harry asked me.

"Yes, take it, I held out the dish to him." Harry took a chicken drumstick and helped himself to mashed potatoes.

"Ron, Harry, don't overeat, there will be a delicious dessert." Percy told us, after which he reached out and took a chicken thigh from my dish. He likes chicken himself, although he prefers beef.

"So, to the new students of the Gryffindor faculty! I hope you will help us win this year's competition between the faculties? Gryffindor has never gone so long without a reward. For the past six years in a row, Slytherin has won. The Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin's cellars, has become almost unbearable."

I looked towards the Slytherin table and saw a creepy-looking ghost with bulging empty eyes, an elongated bony face, and clothes stained with silver blood. almost headless Nick started agitating us. The Baron was sitting next to Malfoy, who was not at all enthusiastic about such company. Well, I get it, Draco, the Baron is covered in silver blood, and he's also a pretty respected ghost who demands attention without even eating properly.

"How come he's covered in blood?" Seamus blurted out, who for some reason was very interested in this question.

"I've never asked," Almost Headless Nick remarked delicately.

When everyone was full, the plates suddenly emptied, becoming perfectly clean again and shining so brightly in the candlelight, as if there was no food on them. But just a moment later, a sweet appeared on them. Lemon pie, pink and blue meringue sprinkled with sequins, sand baskets with fruit jelly and fresh berries, chocolate candies in the form of pebbles with whole hazelnuts and orange jelly.

While I was filling my plate with a variety of desserts, and Harry was reaching for a mint lemonade, they started talking about families at the table. I helped myself to lemon pie and chocolate pebbles, and pulled over a steaming cup of spiced tea.

"Personally, I'm half-on-half," Seamus admitted. "My dad is a Muggle, and my mom is a wizard. Mom didn't tell him anything until after they got married. I understood that he wasn't happy at all when he found out the truth. He calls me a spawn of the devil.

Everyone laughed. Yeah, I don't envy Seamus.

"And you, Neville?" I asked.

"I... well, my grandmother raised me, she's a magician," Neville began. "But my whole family was convinced that I was a real squib. My great-uncle Algy kept trying to catch me off guard so that I could create some kind of miracle. He really wanted me to be a magician. So, one day he crept up on me while I was standing on the pier and pushed me into the water. And I almost drowned. In general, I was the most ordinary - until I was eight years old. When I was eight, Algy came to tea with us, caught me and stuck me out the window. I was hanging upside down there, and he was holding my ankles. And then my great-aunt Enid offered him a cake, and he accidentally opened his hands. I flew from the second floor, but I didn't crash - it was like I turned into a ball, bounced off the ground and bounced down the path. They were all delighted, and Grandma even burst into tears of happiness. You should have seen their faces when I received the letter from Hogwarts - they were afraid they wouldn't send it to me, that I wasn't really a wizard. My great-uncle Algy happily gave me a toad."

"Couldn't he have tied her to you?"

"Ron, he tried, but she just jumped away from me after the ritual. I think it's gotten worse."

I listened to what Percy and Hermione, who were sitting on our left, were talking about. However, I might have guessed: Hermione, of course, was talking about classes.

"I really hope that we will start studying tomorrow. We have so much to learn. Personally, I'm most interested in transfiguration, you know, the art of turning something into something else. Although, of course, this is considered a very difficult task."

Yes, it's very difficult, but as a future golem lord, I need it. It's good that I can practice on a chess set. First you turn the board into a forest or a lake or mountains, and then you play with the mind of the set.

"Don't count on much. You'll start with the little things, you'll turn matches into needles, something like this."

Chapter 5.3 Going to the bedrooms.

I warmed up, softened, and felt my eyes start to close. I was exhausted from overeating. Dessert was definitely superfluous. Harry was blinking sleepily next to me. He was the only one eating fruit baskets. In order to stay awake, we stared wide-eyed and began to stare around, finally burying our eyes in the teacher's desk.

Hagrid was drinking from a large goblet, Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Quirrell, who had not taken off his stupid turban, was talking to an unknown teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Apparently this is Snape.

"Ouch!" Harry suddenly slapped his forehead with his palm. Did your scar hurt?

"What happened?" Percy asked.

"N-n-nothing," Harry managed to say.

"Who's that talking to Professor Quirrell?" He asked Percy.

"Oh, you already know Quirrell? I don't wonder why he's so nervous - you get nervous here when Professor Snape is sitting next to you. He teaches you how to mix magic potions, but they say he doesn't like it at all. He's a good scholar, a potion master. And the crooked-armed students just infuriate him. And what did he forget at school? Everyone knows that he wants to take Professor Quirrell's place. He's a great expert on the Dark Arts, this Snape. He has about eighteen articles in the International Journal of Potions and about forty in the Journal of European Dark Arts.

Harry watched Snape for a while. I was no longer interested in anything. I was full and really wanted to sleep.

When everyone had had their fill of dessert, the sweets disappeared from the plates, and Professor Dumbledore rose from his throne again. Everyone fell silent.

"Hmmm!" said Dumbledore loudly. "Now that we're all full, I'd like to say a few more words. There's something you need to learn before the semester starts. First-year students should remember that all students are forbidden to enter the forest located on the school grounds. Some undergraduates should also keep this in mind for their own good... Trips to the forest for ingredients are carried out only in the presence of our forester Hagrid."

But there are a lot of plant ingredients growing in the Forbidden Forest, and animals can be used as ingredients, if they don't kill you themselves, of course. I definitely have nothing to do there until the fourth or fifth year. And at night it's better not to go there at all. Rumor has it that a pack of werewolves lives in the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore's shining eyes rested for a moment on the red heads of my brothers.

"Although you can go to the edge of the forest, Hagrid lives nearby. There shouldn't be anything dangerous there. At the request of Mr. Filch, our school superintendent, I remind you that you should not work miracles during recess. And even more so, throwing spells at each other. The senior courses have dueling rooms for this purpose. And now about Quidditch practice - it starts in a week. Anyone who would like to play for the national teams of their faculties should contact Madame Hooch. Finally, I must inform you that this academic year, the right-hand side of the corridor on the third floor is closed to anyone who does not want to die a painful death.

Harry laughed, but there were very few people as funny as him. The friend didn't seem to take the director's words seriously. Or is it a nervous laugh? So, I don't like this. I can smell trouble with my ass. My brothers are definitely going to be there. And what should we do then- bury what's left of them?

"He's joking, right?" Harry muttered, turning to Percy.

"Maybe," Percy replied, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's weird because he usually explains why we're not allowed to go anywhere. For example, everything is clear about the forest - there are dangerous animals there, everyone knows that. The twins even confessed that they had seen a small acromantul there. And here he should have explained everything, but he doesn't say anything. I think he should have told us, the elders, at least." Percy gets nervous looking at the twins too. Even though he grumbles at us, he loves his family.

"And now let's sing Shatlandic and Welsh songs. Let's start with My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean."

We picked up a local Scottish folk song. The brothers said that it is often sung at parties in the living room. Then there was Sosban Fach, a Welsh folk song. Everyone living in the Welsh part of the wizarding world happily started singing it. Then they sang Loch Lomond, a soulful Scottish song. The Scots sang, and we sang along with them. Then the Welsh Yma o Hyd again, It became the school anthem many centuries ago, and I adore it.

"Verse 1 - It was sung by students from Wales.

You don't remember Godric, Salazar,

About Rowena and Helga, the old masters.

Hundreds of years have passed, but the flame has not died out:

We keep the precepts of the first wizards anew. When did the founders raise these walls,

To get away from storms and other people's winds,

They believed that the Day and hour would come.,

When their legacy will be continued by each of us!

Chorus We were joined by students from Scotland and Muggleborns.

We're still here.,

We're still here.

Despite thunderstorms and storms,

Despite the darkness and the cold,

No matter what, always -

We're still here!

Verse 2 - Dumbledore waved his wand and a ribbon with the words of the song hung in front of each student.

The wind blows against the stained glass windows, and the storm howls from the mountains,

Shadows whisper in the corridors, scaring newcomers.

But there is a living fire burning in the Great Hall.,

And there is no fear in our hearts, but the light of the ages.

Let the enemies whisper and plot again,

Let them prophesy oblivion and an end for us without words -

We will not give up, we will not take a step back.:

The school is our home, and we are holding this flag!

Chorus (repeat) - The voices of the teachers joined the children's voices.

We're still here.,

We're still here.

Despite thunderstorms and storms,

Despite the darkness and the cold,

No matter what, always -

We're still here!

Verse 3 - The final verse was sung by the whole hall in chorus.

We remember the covenants that they left us:

Knowledge, honor, and courage are what we keep inside.

We vowed not to extinguish this inner fire,

So that even in the darkest night he could be seen.

Neither curses nor years will break us.,

Neither other people's fears, nor other people's enmity.

We will stand as long as this hall stands.,

While in the corridors we can hear our friendly shout: "Hurrah!"

Chorus (final)

We're still here.,

We're still here.

Despite thunderstorms and storms,

Despite the darkness and the cold,

No matter what, always -

We're still here!

There was childish laughter and applause.

"Oh, the music!" Dambodor exclaimed, wiping his eyes: it looks like he shed tears from emotion. "Her magic overshadows what we do here. Now go to sleep. Trot - march!"

The Gryffindor freshmen, led by my brother, walked past the upperclassmen still chatting at their desks, left the Great Hall and went up the marble staircase.

My legs felt like lead again, but not from excitement, but from fatigue and fullness. I was very sleepy and completely oblivious to the fact that the people depicted in the portraits hung in the corridors were whispering to each other and pointing at the freshmen with their fingers. I took it for granted that Percy had taken us through secret doors twice, one hidden behind sliding panels and the other hidden behind a long tapestry hanging from the ceiling. Yawning and barely able to move our legs, we climbed one staircase after another. I waited patiently for us to reach our destination, and then Percy suddenly stopped.

I shook myself and froze warily. Then he took the Brat off his shoulder and put it in his pocket.

Crutches floated in the air in front of us. As soon as Percy took a step forward, the crutches turned threateningly in his direction and began to attack. But they didn't hit, but stopped a few centimeters away, as if saying that he had to leave.

"This is Peeves, our poltergeist," Percy whispered, turning to us. And then he raised his voice: "Peeves, show yourself!"

A long fart answered him.

"Do you want me to go to the Blood Baron and tell him what's going on here?"

There was a pop, and a small man with unpleasant black eyes and a big mouth appeared in the air. He was hanging cross-legged between the floor and the ceiling, and pretended to be leaning on crutches, which he clearly didn't need.

"Oh-oh-oh!" he drawled, with a malicious chuckle. "Little freshmen! Now we're going to have some fun."

A man hanging in the air suddenly swooped down on us, and everyone ducked their heads together.

"Get out of here, Peeves, or the Baron will find out about this, I'm not kidding! And he's giving you a hard time again." Percy said sharply.

They say the bloody baron is the husband of the daughter of the founder of the Ravenna school. And before his suicide, he swore to the founder to protect the school, since he could no longer protect her daughter.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and disappeared, dropping his crutches on Neville's head. He seems to have deliberately chosen the most harmless of us. We could hear him walking away from us, banging something on the knight's armor displayed in the corridor out of spite.

"You should be careful of him", Percy warned us as we moved on. "The only one who can control him is the Bloody Baron, and Peeves doesn't even listen to us elders. Here we are."

And the bloody baron only helps Slytherins. Class. Well, I'll consider the run-ins with Peeves as a workout. I wish I could remember the way. We've finally arrived.

We were standing at the end of the corridor in front of a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"The password?" the woman asked sternly.

"Kaput Draconis," Percy replied, and the portrait slid aside, revealing a round hole in the wall. Charlie would have nailed Percy for a password like that, or it's a complete lady setting passwords.

Everyone made their way through it on their own, only the clumsy Neville had to be pushed. The round, cozy Gryffindor Common Room was filled with deep upholstered armchairs.

Percy showed the girls the door to their bedroom, and the boys entered through another door. We went up a spiral staircase, the room was in one of the towers, and finally we found ourselves in a bedroom. There were five large four-poster beds, covered with dark red velvet curtains. The beds were already made. Everyone was too tired to talk about anything else, so we silently pulled on our pajamas and climbed into bed. I settled down next to Harry's bed. He chose a bed next to the window. That's a jerk, it's going to blow there in winter.

"Harry, can you lie down? It will blow out of the window in winter."

"No, I want the window to be next to it. I like to look out the windows."

Well okay. We had a great meal, didn't we? I muttered, behind the heavy curtains.

I stare at the Brat in disbelief. So, are your teeth itching again? Get out of here, you Bastard! Can you imagine, Harry, he's chewing on my sheets! When I showed it to Percy, he put household charms on it so that the foil glowed faintly in the dark and did not rattle much. And also an old box of chocolate frogs and an old cotton sock from which ratyuk made himself a chestnut at home in my room. The rat immediately stopped gnawing on the sheet and began to pull on a sock, then it squeaked pitifully, sniffing my parchment. I took out a couple of sheets and handed them to the brat. So, we'll have to bring him some more for safekeeping.

So now I'll put a box in the corner of the room for him. I looked for a corner. Damn, the room is round, so what should I do? I started looking at everything in the room. It's so drafty from the window, that's why I wanted to get Harry away from him. So what about under the bed? Damn, it's so dusty. No, it won't do. I'll put it behind the chest and in front of the wall in the resulting niche. No one will hurt you and the rat will be comfortable.

"Look, you Brat, will it be cozy for you to make a nest here?"

The rat walked around the box, then grabbed the sock in his teeth and dragged it into the box, then returned for the parchment. Well, that's fine. Here's another tooth stick and a favorite toy.

I remembered how Percy had brought me a drinking bowl for the Brat.:

In the palm of Percy's hand was a small copper cup with a delicate pattern around the edge.

- Here you go. It's not just a bowl. I put a moisture retention charm on it: if the Brat knocks over, the water won't spill all over the room. It seems to "stick" to the surface until you collect it yourself with a spell.

Ron chuckled,

"So if the Brat makes a flood, I can collect everything in one fell swoop?

" And I also added a label: if the water becomes stale, the pattern will darken. So you'll see right away that it's time to change.

Ron turned the cup over, examining the twisted lines.

"Did you do this on purpose?" Not in class, but by yourself?

Percy blushed slightly and adjusted his robes.

-Well...I thought you might need it." I don't want him to get sick because of some nonsense.

Ron smiled.

- thanks. It's... very cool.

Smiling, I took out a bowl and poured water into it. Prashitsey immediately started lapping it up, wagging his nose.

Chapter 6.1 The first lessons

Harry has become my friend, but it's exhausting. Every time we left the classroom, there was a huge crowd of students staring at him in the hallway. It felt like half the school was gathering. They stared, pointed, and wouldn't let him pass. Someone asked for an autograph, someone demanded to shake his hand, some just stared. There were constant whispers and we had to make our way through the crowd. I freaked out after the first three lessons and walked like an icebreaker (Dad told me about them like fairy tales about Muggles) and dragged a confused boy along with me. Well, at least he moves his legs fast, his escapes from his cousin have an effect.

According to the twins, there were one hundred and forty-two stairs at Hogwarts. Some of them were stone, wide and spacious, others wooden, narrow and shaky. There were stairs that took us to a completely different place on Friday than they did on Thursday. There were stairs where several steps suddenly disappeared at the very moment when I was going down or up them. So, going up these stairs, it was necessary to jump. At least there was a floor under the steps, albeit with something like a trap.

There were enough problems with the doors, too. Some of them did not open until they were politely requested. Others opened only if they were touched in a certain place. Still others turned out to be fake, but in fact there was a wall.

It was very difficult to remember the location of stairs, doors, classrooms, corridors and bedrooms. It seemed that everything at Hogwarts was constantly changing, and today everything was different from yesterday. The people depicted in the portraits went to visit each other. And I was convinced that the knight's armor standing in the corridors was capable of running, apparently these were battle golems in case of castle defense. I even approached Professor McGonagall and asked her to teach me how to control and design such powerful golems. To which she replied that in the seventh year of transfiguration there would be work with golems. It was good for us in the living room, the upperclassmen gave us a map showing the main routes to the classrooms where classes are held.

Ghosts also added to the hassle. There have never been any problems with the Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower and, therefore, our ally. On the contrary, he was always happy to show the freshmen how to get where they needed to go. The fat monk didn't give a damn about the younger student of which faculty was addressing him - he helped everyone. The Gray Lady only talked to Ravenclaw faculty members. But the bloody baron liked to scare students and helped only the senior Slytherin courses, and not always. Yes, the prefects could have asked him to restrain Peeves.

Peeves, on the other hand, was more dangerous than two closed doors and a staircase leading nowhere-especially if you met him when you were late for class. This poltergeist dropped paper baskets on the heads of freshmen, pulled carpets out from under them, threw pieces of chalk or threw water bombs at them, and it was necessary to grab the bomb before it exploded and send it back to Peeves. He was afraid to go to the senior courses, they can also charge with a spell in response, but the junior courses regularly suffered from it.

It seemed that nothing and no one could be worse than Peeves, but it turned out that this was not entirely true. Argus Filch, the school's caretaker, turned out to be a much more unpleasant person. On the very first morning, Harry and I caught his attention-unfortunately, in a bad way. Filch caught us trying to open one of the doors. We were walking along the map for Transfiguration and decided to take a shortcut, completely forgetting about Dumbledore's warning. Unfortunately, it turned out that it was behind this door that the corridor on the third floor, which Albus Dumbledore had mentioned at the banquet, began. And Filch was on duty next to the corridor, making sure that curious students did not climb there.

Filch refused to believe that we were just going to class. The caretaker was sure that we specifically wanted to enter the forbidden territory, and threatened to lock us in the dungeon. But at the most critical moment, Professor Quirrell, who was passing by, saved us. He took us to the transfiguration room, scolding us for being curious on the way. He didn't seem to believe that we were just trying to cut it off, either.

Here's the caretaker, the old fart. No, to take us to class, he also detained us. Our dean told us everything she thought of us and also took off a couple of points for being late.

Filch had a cat named Mrs. Norris, a skinny, dusty-gray creature with bulging, glowing eyes, almost the same as Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. As soon as she noticed that someone had violated the rules - had taken at least one step beyond the forbidden line - and she immediately disappeared. And two seconds later Filch would appear, snuffling heavily. Clearly the caretaker's familiar. And he's chasing her around like he used to when he was young. Is he even human? Filch knew all the secret passages better than anyone else at school - with the possible exception of my brothers-and appeared as suddenly as if he were a ghost. The students hated him, and for many it was the limit of their dreams to dare to kick Mrs. Norris.

But finding the right office was still half the battle, because classes were sometimes much more difficult than finding a particular room. Magic wasn't just about waving a wand and saying a few strange words. Every Wednesday at midnight, we looked at the telescopes, studied the night sky, wrote down the names of different stars and memorized how the planets move. The telescopes illuminated the desired planet or constellation when the students pronounced their name. The main thing was to find them in the sky, but Professor Sinistra was showing the approximate direction.

Three times a week we were taken to the greenhouses located behind the castle, where a short, plump lady, Professor Sprout, taught us herbology, the science of plants, and told us how to take care of all these strange plants and fungi and what they are used for. Neville arranged with the professor for his Trevor to hunt insects and worms in her greenhouses.

Harry and I were paying attention, just like we were at caring for magical creatures. Although it was conducted on a case-by-case basis. The professor was already old and sick. I guess I'll have to study animals from the pictures in Scamender's book.

The most tedious subject was the history of magic, which were the only lessons the ghost taught. Professor Binns was already very old when he fell asleep one day in the staff room right in front of the fireplace, and the next morning he came to class without a body. Beans was talking in a terrible monotone and without stopping. The students hurriedly wrote down names and dates for him and confused Emerick the Evil with Urik the Strange. Unfortunately, he delivered his lectures in such a monotonous voice that it took a terrible effort to stay awake. I'm going to study history from a textbook. He's only talking about goblin rebellions anyway. The book is much more interesting, I've read it. I liked the way Bathilda Bagshot writes.

Professor Flitwick, who taught spells, was so tiny that he stood on a stack of books to see the students from behind his desk. It is said that he is a half-goblin who has become a master of dueling in Europe. They say he was a member of the fighters' guild.

Should I ask him to join the dueling club? Oh, man, it's been shut down. At the very first lesson, he got acquainted with the course, took a student marks register and began to read out the names in order. When he reached Harry's last name in it, he squeaked excitedly and disappeared from sight, falling off his stand. Is he making fun of Muggleborns? Children from magical families all take him seriously. The Halfpuffs over there all take him seriously, apparently the older students have already warned the Muggleborn first-year students about the teachers.

But Professor McGonagall was completely different. Harry was right when he saw her and told me that it was better not to mess with her. Smart but strict, she gave a very harsh speech as soon as we came to her class for the first time and sat down. And first she told Harry and me what she thought of us because we were late for class. They say you were given a special card so that you wouldn't be late for lessons.

"Transfiguration is one of the most difficult and dangerous areas of magic that you will study at Hogwarts," she began. "Any violation of discipline in my lessons, and the offender will leave the classroom and will not return here. I've warned you."

After such a speech, everyone felt a little uneasy. Then Professor McGonagall moved on to practice and turned her desk into a boar in light armor, and then back into a table. Everyone was terribly amazed and began to ache with the desire to start practicing themselves as soon as possible, but soon realized that it would be a long time before we could learn how to turn furniture into animals.

Then Professor McGonagall dictated to us some very incomprehensible and confusing sentences that we had to memorize. What a nightmare. Okay, I also understood what she was saying, as did Hermione. But Harry was sitting with glassy eyes and blinking uncomprehendingly. I need to give him a hint about languages. Let him learn them in the summer. Hmm, but the school librarian must have an artifact for the most common languages that are often used in old charms and transfiguration.

Then McGonagall gave each of us a match and said that we should turn these matches into needles. I wish I knew what this needle looks like. I tried to remember what my mother used when she sewed clothes, but she enchanted the needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger's match had changed shape slightly - Professor McGonagall showed the whole course Hermione's match, which was sharpened at one end and covered with silver, and smiled at her. We were all shocked, our strict dean didn't smile at all and was the epitome of a prim English old witch.

We were all looking forward to Professor Quirrell's defense against the Dark Arts class, but Quirrell's classes were more like a humorous show than something serious. His office smelled like garlic, which Quirrell hoped would scare away the vampire he'd met in Romania. The professor was very afraid that Tepes was about to come to Hogwarts to deal with him.

The turban on Quirrell's head also didn't add to the seriousness of the classes he taught here.

The professor claimed that this turban was given to him by an African prince, whom he helped to get rid of a very dangerous zombie. But no one really believed this story. Unlike Quirrell's terrified stories about the supreme vampire who almost killed him. Firstly, because when Seamus Finnigan asked how Quirrell defeated the zombies, Quirrell blushed and started talking about the weather. And secondly, because the turban smelled strangely like garlic, and the twins assured everyone that it was not a gift from an African prince, but just a precautionary measure. According to them, Quirrell was covered with garlic cloves under his clothes, and garlic was also hidden in his turban, because the professor, fearing vampires, wanted to be completely protected. He even slept in what he wore to school, so that the vampire wouldn't take him by surprise. Considering the smell that came from the professor, I agreed with them. Except it smelled like carrion, not garlic. No, it smelled of garlic too, but not from the turban.

During the first few days of my studies, I became convinced that I was learning no worse than others, even despite the almost broken magic wand. A lot of students were born and raised in Muggle families or were half-bloods and had no idea who they were until they received a letter from Hogwarts. Besides, the freshmen had so much to learn that even I, who was born into a family of wizards and had five older brothers besides my parents, didn't have much advantage over the others.

Friday was a great day for us. We were finally able to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast, never once losing our way. I kept following the map given out by a pretty fifth-year student, but Harry kept trying to hide from the crowd and turn into a secluded corner.

"What's going on with our classes today?" Harry asked, adding honey to the oatmeal instead of the boring sugar. I helped myself to an omelet with mushrooms and cheese and reached into my bag for my schedule. Harry was drinking warm milk with magical honey, and I got myself a thick-walled glass of tea.

"Two potions classes - we'll study with the Slytherins", I replied, looking through the list of classes on Friday. "The classes are taught by Professor Snape, and he is their dean. They say that he is always on their side in everything, protecting them from the rest of the teachers and giving them the best marks. Although this is understandable, they were all taught at home in Slytherin to work with ingredients and brew simple potions, like my mother. So they don't piss him off."

"Yeah, I can't make potions at all." Harry was upset, and remembering his stories about his Aunt Petunia, I decided to cheer him up. Harry, you said yourself that you cooked soups at home and cut all kinds of vegetables and meat. It's almost the same as preparing for potions. You will cut the ingredients as it says in the book of Arsenic, and stir, and I will count the proportions of the ingredients and put them in the potion. Percy says that Snape barely clung to him during his junior years. He makes good potions here. He's even going to Snape's advanced potions course, even though he only takes students with an Excellent grade.

While we were having breakfast, the mail arrived. During breakfast, at least a hundred owls flew into the Great Hall with loud hoots. Half of them were from the school's owlery, but the rest were the familiars of either the students or one of their parents, like Draco's Eagle owl. The owls began circling the tables, looking for their owners and dropping letters and parcels into their laps.

This morning, Hedwig landed between a sugar bowl and a bowl of berry jam and dropped a sealed envelope into Harry's plate. Harry immediately opened it. Before that, she had never brought him a single letter and lived in the owlery, sometimes flying in to visit her eccentric master.

Harry borrowed a pen from me, scribbled on the back of the letter, "Yes, with pleasure, see you later, thank you," and handed the letter to Hedwig. After finishing Harry's porridge and washing down all the cocoa, and I finished my omelet and drank a couple of cups of herbal tea, we went to the dungeons to Snape's office.

It's so cool in here. I'm fine in warm trousers and a shirt. It's also scary in the potions room itself. Glass jars filled with pickled animals stood in cupboards along all the walls.

Professor Snape, like Flitwick, began classes by opening a Grade book and getting to know the students. And, like Flitwick, he stopped when he reached the last name Potter. But if Flitwick was happy, Snape looked like he'd chewed a lemon.

"Oh, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle giggled mockingly, covering their faces with their hands. Snape immediately glared at them and the giggling stopped immediately. But Draco was grinning: over the past few days, he had already realized that Harry hated being called a celebrity and a national hero. And he was constantly walking around about it at recess and when he found himself nearby in the great hall.

After completing his introduction to the class, Snape looked around the audience with an attentive gaze. His eyes were black. They were cold and empty, and for some reason they looked like dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the science of making magic potions. A very precise and subtle science," Snape began.

Snape was almost whispering, but I could hear every word clearly. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape had a gift for effortlessly controlling the classroom. As in Professor McGonagall's classes, no one dared to whisper or engage in outside activities.

"Silly waving of a magic wand has nothing to do with this science, and therefore many of you will find it hard to believe that my subject is an important component of magical science," Snape continued. "I don't think you can appreciate the beauty of a slow-boiling cauldron exuding the most subtle odors, or the gentle power of liquids that creep through a person's veins, bewitching his mind, enslaving his senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, how to brew triumph, how to plug death. But all this is only on condition that you are at least somewhat different from the herd of blockheads that usually comes to my lessons.

Unfortunately, although potions attract me, I understand that, most likely, I am still an ordinary crooked sheep in the opinion of our teacher. And it's much easier to buy a ready-made emergency kit on a hike, and not bother with preparing them in field conditions when you catch a cold or break your arm or leg. Although I have to learn how to make rowan broth and other popular potions. By the way, Mom poured me a few vials of rowan broth and cold potions into my medicine cabinet so that I wouldn't have to run to the hospital wing for nothing.

After this short speech, the silence in the course became absolute. Harry looked at me blankly. I didn't object to the fact that, in Snape's opinion, I was probably a crooked sheep. As Percy told me, the professor considers everyone who doesn't pass the OWLs at least well to be fools. Hermione Granger shifted impatiently in her chair, looking as if she couldn't wait to prove that she was definitely not one of the herd of blockheads.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What happens if I mix crushed asphodel root with wormwood tincture? The Weasleys sit in silence."

Harry glanced at me, but I was as puzzled by the question as he was. Even though I've been reading a textbook on potions, a lot has already disappeared from my mind. And I only read the chapters for the first year. And our mother didn't cook anything from asphodel roots. They say only professional potion makers work with him. But Hermione Granger clearly knew the answer, and her hand shot up into the air. Of course, she learned her textbook right up to the fifth year, I asked her on Tuesday.

"I do not know, sir," Harry replied.

A contemptuous expression appeared on Snape's face. Well, yes, my friend just admitted that he's a crooked sheep who doesn't read textbooks.

"Well, well... Obviously, fame is not everything. But let's try it again, Potter." Snape stubbornly refused to notice Hermione's raised hand. "If I ask you to bring me a bezoar stone, where will you look for it?"

In the medicine cabinet, of course. I couldn't quite remember where it was mined. And whether it's a stone at all, considering how it looks. A hairy stone, creepy. I carry a couple of them in my backpack all the time. Mom told me to put it in my mouth and try to swallow it. And then run to Madam Pomfrey or to Professor Snape, they say he is an expert on poisons.

Hermione continued to pull her hand, barely restraining herself from jumping up from her seat. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with silent laughter. And I myself only laughed at her behavior. I could barely contain myself. Damn, don't laugh, Harry will be offended.

"I do not know, sir," Harry confessed.

"It doesn't seem to have occurred to you to read your textbooks before coming to school, does it, Potter?! Do you know Weasley?"

Snape continued to ignore Hermione's trembling hand.

"No, sir. All I know is that it's in every first-aid kit."

"Well, at least you know something, sit down, Weasley. Malfoy, tell us where the bezoar comes from and what it's used for."

"From the stomach of a goat, sir. It is a universal antidote." I imagined poisoning myself and sending Harry to get a goat that might not have bezoars in it, and I almost laughed in my office.

"Okay, 2 points for Slytherin. Potter, what's the difference between wolfsbane and monk's hood?"

Hermione, unable to sit still any longer, stood up, stretching her arm towards the ceiling. Will this know-it-all ever calm down? She doesn't let anyone else answer in class at all. I know for sure that Neville knows a lot about plants, but no, Hermione is the first to pull her hand at herbology. And then Neville raises his hand, he's very shy. And of course Professor Sprout asks Hermione.

"I do not know," Harry said softly. "But I think Hermione knows that for sure, why don't you ask her, Professor?"

Laughter was heard. Harry looked around nervously. So, did he think they were laughing at him? I'll have to calm him down. In the meantime, it's better to sit quietly and keep quiet.

"Sit down!" Snape snapped, turning to Hermione for a moment. "And you, Potter, remember: from the root of asphodel and wormwood, a soporific potion is prepared, so strong that it is called the drink of living death. And wolfsbane and monk's hood are the same plant, also known as monkshood. Do you understand? So, everyone write down that bezoar is a universal antidote, so that everyone has a bezoar in a small medicine cabinet!"

I pulled my potions notebook out of my bag, a stack of parchment sheets neatly held together with a thin silver ribbon that shimmered slightly. Harry adjusted his set of parchment sheets stitched together and opened the "Potions: Basics" section, and the pages themselves opened to the desired entry. Dipping my pen into the ink, I prepared to write down Snape's words. I hurriedly grabbed my pens along with everyone else and rustled the parchment in my notebooks. But Snape's quiet voice cut through the uproar.

"For your insolent behavior, Miss Granger, I'm putting a penalty point on Gryffindor's account. No need to jump up, I can see you already, but I want to interview others. Mr. Potter, next time, read the textbook in the summer. If you mumble to me the same way after the next vacation, I'll take 2 points off you." The professor continued to interview the students on the initial chapters of the textbook on safety when working with boiling boilers.

If the Slytherins knew them and already brewed simple potions like me or helped their parents, then my fellow Gryffindors did not work with cauldrons at all, since they were from mixed families or Muggleborns in general.

"Come on, our people, remember!" I muttered from my seat. So that our faculty can hear me. The professor commented on my statement, saying that the students should not just read, but memorize the first three chapters. You were specially given so much time before your first potions lesson.

"By the way, Mr. Weasley and Longbot, where are your familiars, hopefully in the bedroom and not with you in the company?"

Snape looked at us urgently. Am I an idiot to drag him to such a dangerous place for a rat on my shoulder? And Neville was warned by Professor Sprout yesterday to leave the toad in her greenhouse for the duration of the lesson, where she would be comfortable.

"Of course, sir, but I left my rat walking on the lawn in front of the castle, and Neville left his Trevor at the greenhouses." I remember yesterday after herbology, I caught up with Hannah to ask her to bring fresh carrots for the Brat.

Chapter 6.2 a trip to the kitchen

The herbology lesson had just ended, and the students were pouring out of the greenhouses, shaking clods of earth from their robes. Noticing Hannah Abbott ahead, I quickened my pace and caught up with her on the path leading to the castle. I knew her well, because the Abbot farm was not far from the Burrow. Mom even bought vegetables and meat from them for cheap.

"Hannah! Wait a minute," I was a little out of breath from walking fast, but I didn't slow down, matching her pace.

Hannah turned around, eyebrows raised.

"Ron? Hi! How are your chickens?" She was referring to the Weasley farm, which was adjacent to her family's property in the wizarding world.

"Yes, it's fine, but... My baby rat needs fresh carrots. And I do not know where to get anything here. You're from Halfpuff, so you probably know where the kitchen is?"

Hannah nodded, smiling slightly.

"Yes, it's nearby. And what?"

I took the Brat out of my pocket, which immediately began sniffing the air, wiggling its whiskers.

"You see, he needs fresh carrots. And I do not know where that is.... Could you go to the kitchen and ask?"

Hannah laughed, but without mockery- rather, from the surprise of such a request.

"Do you want me to go to the kitchen and ask for carrots for your little rat?"

"Well, yes..." Ron blushed. "I know it sounds weird, but..."

"It's okay," Hannah waved her hand, holding back a smile. "But you know what? Let me just tell you how to get there. It's not far. Go down the main staircase to the bottom, then turn into the left corridor - there is a large still life with fruits. If you tickle a pear in a painting, it will giggle and turn into a pen. Then just open the door and go downstairs. Understood?"

"Uh... sort of," I frowned, trying to remember. "Still life, pear, tickle... won't the elves get mad if I come? However, students are not allowed into the school's utility rooms."

"On the contrary! They are very kind. Just don't be shy and ask politely - they'll be happy to give you anything."

"Thank you very much!" I beamed. "You're just... You're saving us both!"

Hannah went to the showers, and I went to the kitchen.

I was about to turn around and run to follow the instructions when Fred and George suddenly jumped out from around the corner.

"Hey, brother, where are you going in such a hurry?" Fred exclaimed cheerfully.

"I'm trying to find a kitchen," I said honestly. "I need to get a carrot for the Brat. Hannah said that we need to find a painting with fruits and tickle a pear. Does that sound okay at all?"

The twins looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Oh, our little Ronnie is finally discovering the wonders of Hogwarts!" George clapped me on the shoulder. "Yes, that's right. Just make sure you don't mix it up - don't eat this pear, it's meant for something else!"

"And don't forget to say "please" to the elves," Fred added, grinning. "They like to be polite."

"Yeah, thanks..." I was a little taken aback by their amusement, but I nodded anyway. "Well, I'm off."

"Good luck, hero!" George called after them.

"If anything, we are always ready to help... for a small fee in the form of pies!"

I, no longer listening to their teasing, hurried to the main staircase, repeating to myself:

"Still life, pear, tickle..."

I went straight to the shower room and then to the kitchen. Repeating the instructions of the brothers and Hannah to himself, he went down the main staircase to the very bottom, turned into the left corridor and soon saw the painting.

"So, a still life... here she is,"

I thought, carefully examining the canvas. It was decorated with lush bunches of grapes, juicy apples and a single pear, which stood out with its pale green color.

I looked around - there was no one around, so there was no one to laugh if it was a joke. I reached out and gently tickled the pear. She giggled, wriggled, and in the blink of an eye turned into a shiny bronze pen. I didn't waste any time pulling on it, and a secret door opened in front of me, leading down a stone staircase. Downstairs, there was a commotion: house elves scurried between huge cauldrons and tables piled high with fruits and vegetables. The air was filled with delicious aromas.

"I'm sorry..." I began uncertainly, adjusting the rat on my shoulder, but I was immediately surrounded by a group of curious brownies.

"How can we help you, young master?" A short elf woman wearing a clean pillowcase with an embroidered yellow leaf asked.

"Uh... my name is Ron. I... I need some fresh carrots. For my little rat, the Brat," I blushed slightly, but tried to sound confident. "And maybe some more greenery?"

"Of course, of course!" The elf beamed. "My name is Leti. We will be happy to help Mr. Ron!"

She waved her hand, and a small pile of fresh carrots with green tails and a bunch of juicy lettuce immediately appeared on the table. And a couple of slices of ripe apple.

"Here, take this, Mr. Ron. Leti will bring you some every day in your living room or bedroom if you want."

"Really? That would be just wonderful!" I beamed, glad that I wouldn't have to come here every couple of days. "I'll leave the food bowl in the bedroom, on the bedside table."

"Okay, Mr. Ron, fly to find it."

I put the vegetables in a bowl and put them on the floor along with the Brat. While I was looking at the vegetables, my nose caught another delicious scent. Turning around, I saw a huge tray with pies that had just been taken out of the oven. Damn, the brothers love them, especially Fred.

"And these are... pies?" I couldn't resist and decided to ask for some while my little rat was gnawing on vegetables. He was crunching carrots so deliciously that my stomach rumbled.

"Yes, with cabbage and meat! The freshest ones!" Leti happily confirmed. "We'll feed you, Mr. Ron, you don't have to go hungry."

"Can... Can I have five pies? For myself and my brothers" Ron added hastily, so as not to look too gluttonous.

"Of course! As many as you want!" Leti immediately put a dozen pies in a small basket and handed it to me, covering it with a towel. "Take some more pies. We have apples from the eastern grove and wild mushrooms," elfiechka pointed to the dishes under the towels."

"Thank you so much, Lety! You're just... magical!" I blushed even more from embarrassment, but the smile did not leave my face. "We can have five more with mushrooms."

"Here, take Mr. Ron and treat the merry Fred and George, they are frequent guests here."

I love mushroom pies. I bit into the warm side of the pie, waiting for the Brat to have lunch.

"Mr. Ron can always come to us!" Leti bowed. "We love it when guests visit the kitchen."

"Can I bring a friend who likes to cook like you?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Ron, bring the great Harry Potter. All the Hogwarts elves will be happy to see him."

And I, with a basket of cabbage and mushroom pies, separated by towels, in one hand and a bag of carrots in the other, hurried upstairs, feeling like a winner. "Fred and George will definitely appreciate the pies," I thought with a smile, while the Brat was sitting on his shoulder eating a salad.

Suddenly, as I passed the pantry next to the kitchen, I noticed a large gray cat with black stripes and bright green, glowing eyes step out of the shadows. She walked slowly around me, sniffed at the bag, from which came the faint smell of carrots, and made a soft, almost melodious "meow." Then she hissed at my rat, but she didn't rush. I noticed on Tuesday that the cats of Hogwarts were ignoring my little rat.

"Uh... hello, kitty," I cautiously stretched out my hand, and the cat, hesitating a little, rubbed against my robe.

A brownie in a pillowcase with a yellow leaf immediately jumped out from around the corner.

"Oh, Mr. Ron! Don't worry, it's Selena! She makes sure that there are no... unwanted guests here," He lowered his voice and looked around. "She's very smart, yes. If Selena is here, then everything is fine. Peeves sent a couple of rats into the pantry again yesterday. The cat proudly raised its tail and, after giving Ron another attentive look, slid back into the shadows."

***

Okay, stop dreaming, we have a lesson coming.

Professor Snape is already squinting with displeasure. Upset, Hermione proudly tossed her head and raised her hand. Snape graciously allowed her to answer three questions and went to interview the students further.

Snape graciously allowed her to answer three questions and went to interview the students further.

"Mr. Weasley, tell us how to properly slice the ingredients. Since you're not interested in this topic, do you know everything about preparing them for potions?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I've been making potions with my mom." I started talking about the preparation of ingredients and their proper cutting.

"Okay, two points for Gryffindor, but for the future, don't get your head in the clouds about my lessons anymore."

Then Snape divided the students into pairs and gave them the task of preparing a simple potion to cure boils. He circled the classroom, rustling his long black robe, and watched as we weighed dried nettle leaves and ground snake teeth in mortars. Snape criticized half of the class for being crooked-handed.

From time to time, he raised his head and looked around the classroom, suddenly he raised his hand with a wand and shouted.

"Longboat stop!" - Snape was shouting so loudly that Neville froze in fright and did not bring his hand with porcupine quills to the cauldron. Hermione gasped in horror, looking at the needles in Neville's hand. Draco, I, and several of the Slytherins turned very pale.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape's voice cuts through the silence like glass, You almost turned my classroom into an infirmary just now. "Tell me -out loud, so that everyone can hear - what are the properties of so many crushed porcupine quills, at a high temperature of the potion? Especially when interacting with wolf poison?

Neville turns pale, still clutching the needles. Seamus, sitting next to me, suddenly turns pale with fear. The Gryffindors freeze: someone is frantically flipping through a textbook, someone Hermione is looking at Neville in horror. Neville and Seamus would have been doused from head to toe with the potion when the cauldron exploded. Dean Thomas instinctively pushes his cauldron away, and Parvati groans softly and clings to Lavender.

"So, the cash register is not distracted from the boilers." We all remembered that we have our own potion boiling.

Slytherins react with restraint. Draco Malfoy only raises an eyebrow slightly, quickly writes something down in a notebook and whispers to his neighbor:

"Adding needles before neutralization is a gross mistake. Remember that." Zabini nods, also makes a note - for them this is not a reason to panic, but another point in the piggy bank of knowledge about what not to do.

"Uh... does it... enhance?" Neville mumbles uncertainly.

"`It's amplifying'," Snape echoes, and there's a hint of icy mockery in his voice. "He walked over to Hermione's cauldron and said. "Leave Miss Granger to infuse, and help Longbottom." Then he turns to Neville. "How touching. Yes, Mr. Longbottom, it enhances the explosive power of the potion tenfold. Another ten seconds and your classmates would have been picking you up from the ceiling."

Hermione wasted no time in quickly applying a light stabilizing contour to Neville's cauldron with her wand - a barely noticeable silver film covers the container, calming the bubbling. Snape notices this, but only nods briefly, not in approval, but rather in recognition of the appropriateness of the action.

"Minus five points to Gryffindor for being inconsiderate," he says dryly. "And five more for making me waste my time trying to prevent a disaster."

Snape looks around the classroom.

"This applies to everyone. Potions is not a game of brave Gryffindors. Mistakes are not heroic here. They are deadly. Slytherins understand this. Hopefully Gryffindors will learn too someday."

Then, softening his tone a little, but without losing his severity, he adds:

"After the lesson, Mr. Longbottom, you will bring me a notebook with a description of three critical mistakes when working with wolf poison and ways to prevent them. On three sheets, legible, without abbreviations. And to make it clear that you really understood the material, and not copied it from Miss Granger."

Neville nods, still pale, but not so confused anymore.

"Yes, sir. I... I understand, sir."

I nudges him and whispers:

"Don't worry. I'll sketch out a plan for you, and you'll write it out beautifully. The main thing is that the boiler is intact, and the rest is fixable."

Hermione moves to Neville's cauldron, stirring his potion and explaining her actions.

Snape, already moving to another table, throws over his shoulder:

"And yes, Mr. Longbottom. I will not allow you to access the complex ingredients until you have completed your work. Today, limit yourself to stirring and temperature control. Miss Granger, help Mr. Longbottom adjust the recipe. You've already finished working with your potion, it just needs to brew.

Hermione nods and immediately begins to quietly dictate the necessary actions to Neville. Having gathered himself, he begins to gently stir the potion clockwise, carefully watching the color of the steam.

Slytherins continue to work quietly. Pansy Parkinson, without raising her head, speaks softly to her friend:

"Bydd yn rhaid i mi amlygu'r pwynt hwn mewn coch yn fy nodiadau. Bydd yn ddefnyddiol ar gyfer yr arholiad."

"Mr. Malfoy, ydych chi wedi gorffen eich gwaith eto?"

Draco nods gravely and says:

"Yes, sir, the potion needs to be infused."

"Help Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crab."

"And you, Mr. Knott, help Miss Parkinson and Miss Greengrass. And you, Potter, why didn't you stop Mr. Longbottom? Did you want to look better on his background? For that, I'll put a minus one point on your account."

An hour later, we left the dungeon and went up the stairs. Harry was really upset. Harry wanted to object to the professor, but kicked him under the table. And the friend remained silent.

"Cheer up," I encouraged him. "Fred and George are also having bad luck in Snape's classes. Do you know how many fines they got from him? Hey, can I come with you to Hagrid's? Maybe he has cereal seeds for the Brat. Otherwise, Percy fed his little rat with food from the table. Have you seen how fat the rat is?

- Yes, I saw it. But maybe it's because he's already old? He's already ten years old, right? Harry, he's a magical animal, he needs to move and be slimmer. And yet, since Hagrid is a forester, he knows everything about the plants in the forbidden forest and the animals that inhabit it. Charlie kept praising him.

***

At five minutes to three we left the castle and walked through the school grounds to Hagrid's hut. He lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Above the door was a pair of rubber boots and a magic lamp hung. When Harry knocked on the door, we heard someone frantically scratching at it from the other side and barking deafeningly. A moment later, Hagrid's booming voice reached us:

"Get back, Fang, get back!"

The door opened a crack, and a huge face overgrown with hair appeared behind it.

"Come on in," Hagrid invited. "Get back, Fang!"

Hagrid opened the door wider, barely holding the huge black dog by the collar. Hagrid did not know the name of this breed, although he explained that wild boars were hunted with such dogs.

The rain had just stopped, and drops were still falling from the roof of the hut, falling with a thud on the trampled ground. Harry and I crossed the threshold, shaking the water off our robes, and immediately plunged into the familiar comfort: the smell of hot tea, baked bread, and something smoky, as if Hagrid had recently blown up the coals.

In the corner, on a massive wooden beam, hung a combat crossbow. Charlie showed me the same one, only smaller. He looked imposing and a little alien among the mugs, baskets, and coils of rope.

"What's this?" Harry craned his neck, not daring to come any closer.

Hagrid had just bent down to a low chest and pulled out a cloth and a small jar that smelled of oil and iron. He turned around, followed Harry's gaze, and gave a slightly embarrassed grunt, as if he'd been caught doing something personal.

"A crossbow," he said simply, walking over to the wall and removing the weapon from its hook. The wood had darkened with age, and the metal had turned gray in places, but the whole thing looked sturdy, as if it had survived more than one storm. "It's an old thing, but it's true. In the Forbidden Forest without her... well, you know."

He put the crossbow on the table, and it lay down heavily, solidly, as if it knew its own worth. Hagrid opened the jar, dipped a corner of a cloth into it, and began to carefully wipe the metal parts - slowly, carefully, as if removing not rust, but some minor grudge accumulated over the days of dampness.

"See here?" He pointed to a barely noticeable reddish bloom near the trigger mechanism. "The dampness here is evil. You blink a little, and the iron starts to "cry." And I don't need crying iron. It should be dry and calm, like a cat at a warm stove.

Harry moved closer, careful not to touch the weapon, and bent down, examining the details.

"Do you... clean it every time it rains?" he asked softly.

"Not everyone," Hagrid shook his head, continuing to run the rag over the metal. "But if the night was wet, I'll take a look first thing in the morning. And I take the bowstring off - the shoulders don't like being held in suspense. The tree, it's alive, and it needs to rest."

I couldn't resist reaching out my hand, but I immediately pulled it back, afraid that the crossbow would hit me with magic, like Charlie's weapon.

"Is he... dangerous?"

"He's not making it dangerous," Hagrid replied calmly, looking up. "It's not magical, Ron. Haste and anger make it dangerous. And if it's smart and without too much fuss, then it's just an assistant. To protect yourself and those around you.

He finished wiping the metal, blew on the shiny strip as if checking for any dust, and carefully put the jar back into the chest. By the way, Harry told me that Hagrid tried to buy him a trunk for school, but Harry balked at the suitcase and that was it.

Then Hagrid took the crossbow in both hands, turned it over, checking the balance, and hung it on the hook again, this time so that no stray splashes would reach it if the door suddenly swung open in the wind.

"Well, enough about the hardware," He said more cheerfully, slapping his thighs and returning to the kettle. I have raisin muffins here, I baked them myself. Sit down, you're probably cold. Harry took another look at the crossbow - at its dark wood and polished metal - and suddenly felt that this object was not there to threaten. He was part of Hagrid's concern for his corner of the world: like dry wood by the fireplace, like a boarded-up crack from a draft, like a warm jacket on a nail. A thing that is cherished because too much may depend on it.

There was only one room in the house. Pork hams and gutted pheasants hung from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling over an open fire, and a massive bed covered with a patchwork quilt stood in the corner.

"You... uh... make yourself at home... Get settled in" Hagrid said, and Fang rushed over to me and started licking my ears. It was obvious that Fang, like his master, looked much more dangerous than he really was. He should have salivated less.

"This is Ron," Harry introduced me.

Meanwhile, Hagrid was making tea and putting cupcakes on a plate. The cupcakes made contact with the plate with such a sound that there was no doubt about their freshness - they had withered and turned to stone a long time ago. So, it would be necessary to somehow carefully abandon them. My teeth are precious to me. Although Madam Pomfrey will grow new ones and Hagrid will be offended. I'll soak them like breadcrumbs in soup. Exactly.

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid asked, looking at my freckled face and red hair. "I've spent half my life hunting your brothers. Maen nhw wastad... wel... yn ceisio mynd i mewn i'r Goedwig Waharddedig, ac mae'n rhaid i mi eu dal nhw, ie! And you will climb into the forest as well as you grow up, I know you foxes."

And why am I not surprised? It was easy to break our teeth on the stone cupcakes, but Harry and I pretended that we really liked them and told Hagrid how our first days at school had been. Fang was sitting next to Harry, resting his head on his lap and drooling profusely over his school uniform. I took the cupcake in my hand and tried to soak it in a cup. Hmm, but nothing like that. But anyway, I would have eaten something more substantial. I have to go to the great hall for an afternoon snack at four o'clock. Today they promised nuts and milk from magic farms. And also dried fruits. Mmm.

Harry and I were terribly amused when we heard Hagrid call Filch an old bastard from the security guards.

"And this cat is his, Mrs. Norris... uh, I wish I could introduce her to Fang. You probably don't know, do you! As soon as I get to school, she follows me... uh... He's always on my heels, watching and sniffing around. And you can't hide from her, and you can't deceive her... She can smell me and she'll find me everywhere. Filch must have trained her on me."

And why would Filch do that? There's something fishy here, but Harry likes Hagrid, so I won't stop them from communicating.

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like me, advised Harry not to worry because Snape doesn't like the vast majority of the students.

"Harry, he doesn't like everyone who hasn't passed the owls at least well."

"But I think he hates me." Harry sounded upset.

"It's nothing!" Hagrid objected. "Why would he? He always liked your mom. A couple of the best potion makers of the year."

However, Hagrid slightly looked away as he said these words. Another problem. Snape definitely reacts to his friend in some way too aggressively. Although when he made sure that Harry was cutting the ingredients well and stirring them in time, he calmed down. Snape doesn't even hate my brothers as much as Harry's appearance. Although he constantly catches his brothers playing pranks and gives them detention and takes them off.

"What about your brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked hurriedly, turning to me. "I really liked him: he was too good with animals."

Had Hagrid deliberately changed the subject? While I was telling Hagrid about Charlie, who studies dragons in a nature reserve with access from Romania, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the cover for the kettle. It was a clipping from The Prophet. Harry started discussing the safe robbery with Hagrid, but Hagrid just mumbled and looked away. It's all strange. Why would the forester keep this particular clipping if there were no other newspapers?

After lunch, I sat on a log outside Hagrid's hut and thoughtfully scratched the Brat behind the ears. He squinted sleepily and occasionally clicked his teeth, as if he was dreaming of chasing a cat. I put an orange ribbon soaked in a parasite potion that Percy asked me to make around my rat's neck.

"Hagrid, where do you have... well, at Hogwarts... can you get cereal for a rat?" I finally asked. "I thought Madame Moore had a Fluffy Tail in the store, but there's only bird and cat food.

Hagrid looked up from fixing the rope and looked at me with good-natured surprise:

"Grawn? Yn sicr. Mae gen i wenith, ceirch, a hyd yn oed haidd yn fy ngardd." Well, yes, Hagrid has a big vegetable garden. He told Harry and me that he was also feeding the animals in the forest. "I'll give you a bag, no problem."

He got up, slammed the barn door, and soon returned with a canvas bag that smelled deliciously of freshly harvested crops.

"Here you go. Just don't tell the other students that you took it from me, otherwise the pilgrimage will begin for food."

I beamed:

"Thanks, Hagrid! You're the best."

"It's nothing. Rats are a good thing. I remember one of my friends had a rat... well, come on, it's a long story."

I turned around, already pouring grain into the palm of the Brat's hand as I walked:

"What's the story?"

Hagrid waved his hand and smiled into his beard.

"Go on, or you'll be late for lunch at school." Harry had just come out of the booth behind the house. I still couldn't choose between the bags and kept babbling, as if the number of words would make the decision more obvious:

"And if the Brat is given a mixture with seeds? He's a rodent, rodents love sunflower seeds! Or is it too greasy? Hagrid, say something! I used to have a female, so she loved sunflower seeds very much. And Percy said he fed the Brat with grain seeds."

Hagrid stood with his legs apart and looked at I with a patient half-smile.

"Hush, hush. The ancestor is not a crystal vase. Let's see what I have here first...."

"Hagrid, can I add dried berries to him?"

"You can give me rosehip or blueberries with cranberries. I have some dried ones. Just not a lot, no more than three berries a week."

He reached into his super jacket and took out a couple of bags of berries.

"I like to nibble them myself. But let's get some sleep."

At that moment, the tabby cat, who had been digging up a bed of carrots with the air of a sovereign mistress of the garden, suddenly froze, pricked up her ears and darted to the side, as if someone had scared her off. And in its place, right out of the loose earth, a tiny gray muzzle appeared. The mouse quickly moved its nose, twitched its whiskers, and began busily rummaging around, as if checking if someone had buried something tasty here. Harry, who was just coming out from behind the cabbage patch where he was chasing the second cat, froze for a second, and then chuckled softly:

"Well, now the mouse is also spoiling the beds."

I immediately forgot about the bags and craned my neck:

"Where? Where's the mouse? Oh... what if her Forefather gets scared of her? He might be a rat, but suddenly..."

"May he not be afraid of anyone" Hagrid snorted, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. "I have a whole republic of rodents in my garden. Everyone is used to each other. This mouse is not his enemy, and she is not afraid of him."

The mouse, as if hearing these words, froze for a moment, sniffed again, and then darted into a narrow gap between two stones at the edge of the garden bed - and seemed to disappear. The cat, who was watching all this from a safe distance, snorted in disappointment, as if she was offended that the prey had disappeared so quickly.

"You see," Hagrid nodded at the empty spot where the mouse had been swarming. There's a lot of life here. And the beds are suffering, and everyone has something to do.

Harry smiled and brushed a blade of grass off his robes.

"But the Brat will definitely not be bored here." That's for sure," boomed Hagrid. "Okay, stop looking at the mouse. You can let your pet out to take a walk in the garden while we drink tea. Let me pour a little out of each bag for you, mix it up, and see what he likes best."

I beamed:

"Precisely! He'll choose for himself! Percy was telling me how smart his rat was."

Hagrid began to measure out the grain, and Harry took another look at the garden where the mouse had set up its excavations. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the special comfort of Hagrid's hut: everything is alive here, everything is in a hurry, swarming, making noise - and at the same time everything somehow gets along with each other.

After chatting a little more, we went home. On the way, Harry talked about the package that Hagrid took from the bank on the day of the robbery. Hmm, and what was there? Do I even need to get involved in this?

We came just in time for an afternoon snack. Harry helped himself to a handful of walnuts, and I asked the elves for hazelnuts.

In the evening, I went for a walk with the Brat, grabbing carrots from a bowl and a bag of cereals. I was just getting a piece of carrot out of my bag for the Brat when that same gray cat, Selena, stepped out of the shadows. She slowly approached, sniffed, and her glowing green eyes focused on the rat, which was crunching into a vegetable.

I instinctively covered the Brat with my palm.

"Hey, don't touch him! He's not a pest, he's... mine!"

The cat, instead of rushing at the rat, only tilted its head slightly, as if considering my words, and then let out a melodious "meow" - almost mocking. Then she stretched out her paw and gently, with the tips of her claws, lightly pushed a piece of carrot that had fallen out of her weakened paws towards the Brat.

The rat, undeterred, picked up the treat and stared at the cat with obvious approval. A brownie appeared around the corner.

"Oh, have you met yet?" He said cheerfully. "Selena knows who belongs and who doesn't. She senses if the animal is a pet or just a pest. Your brat is a pet, so she won't hurt him."

"Really?" I breathed out a sigh of relief. "And I was scared... we had wild cats living next to our house, they were constantly chasing him."

"The magical cats of Hogwarts are not just hunters," The brownie lowered his voice, as if sharing a great secret. "They sense magic and intent. And they protect those who are not evil. You see, she even treated your rat. It's a sign of respect."

Selena, as if confirming his words, gracefully turned around and, raising her tail high, disappeared into the shadows. The brat, after finishing the carrots, made a pleased squeak, as if thanking for an unexpected gift.

"Okay," I smiled, untying the bag of seeds and putting them on the bowl I'd brought from the bedroom. It looks like you've got a patron here. Just don't get too used to the free treats! I'm still your master, and I'll feed you myself.

I went back to the bedroom.

I took a small paper bag out of my pocket and carefully poured three maroon berries into my palm.

"It's rosehip," I explained a little sheepishly, as if I was afraid they'd laugh at me. "Hagrid said it was good for rats. The brat busily sniffed the treat, grabbed one berry and dragged it to his corner, as if it were the greatest treasure.

Chapter 7 flights

During the first week at school, Malfoy and I hardly bumped into each other in class - the only classes we had together were Professor Snape's. He was always around with his goons, telling us what kind of broom he had at home, how good he was at Quidditch, and what his mom had sent him today. But on Saturday, after returning from Hagrid's, Harry and I noticed a notice posted in the Gryffindor Common Room, which caused us to groan. Broomstick flights began on Tuesday, and the first-year students of the Gryffindor and Slytherin faculties had to learn to fly together.

"That's great," said Harry gloomily. "Just what I've always dreamed of. Making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy - and not just a fool, but a fool sitting on a broom and not knowing how to take off.

"How do you know who's going to look like a fool?" I answered reasonably. "Of course, I know that Malfoy brags to everyone that he is a great Quidditch player. But I'm willing to bet on my old broom that it's all nonsense. In the end, kids get baby brooms with built-in speed and height limiters. Jeanie and I had one. It's old, of course, but you can fly. I gave it to my sister when Charlie gave me his old comet.

Malfoy really talked too much about flying. He loudly regretted that freshmen were not accepted into the faculty teams, and told long boastful stories about where and how he flew on a variety of brooms. The stories usually ended with Malfoy managing to evade Muggle helicopters with incredible dexterity and at the very last moment.

He's driving, Muggle cars don't fly into our magical world, and it's also problematic to come in. There are muggle-repelling charms on all the entrances to the magical world. Although Harry Vaughn says that he describes helicopters correctly. Apparently there is a military base next to the passage and Malfoy saw them.

However, Malfoy was not the only one who talked about this topic - to hear Seamus Finnigan, he spent his entire childhood on a broom. And I was ready to tell anyone who would listen to me about how I once took Charlie's old broom and narrowly avoided a collision with a hang glider. I embellished it, of course, but what you won't do for the attention of the girls. Lavender also loved listening to my stories.

In general, everyone who was born into wizarding families talked incessantly about Quidditch. I've already gotten into a serious argument with Dean Thomas over Quidditch. Dean loved football, and I thought there was nothing interesting about a game that was played with just one ball and the players were forbidden to fly. The next day, I was pointing at the images of the players on the WestHam football team poster that hung over Dean's bed. I tried to make them move. I couldn't believe that in Muggle photographs, everyone was motionless, unlike in photographs of the wizarding world, where people appeared and disappeared, winked and smiled. I even showed Harry and Dean my album of Ped Guns and Weasley's home photos.

However, there were exceptions among those born into wizarding families. So, Neville admitted that he had never had a broom in his life, because his grandmother strictly forbade him to even think about flying. Harry and I completely agreed with her - Neville managed to get into the most incredible stories, even standing on two legs. He was very clumsy, so it was just scary to give him a broom.

Hermione Granger, like Harry, who grew up in a Muggle family, was as nervous as Neville about the upcoming flights. If flying could be learned from a textbook, Hermione would already be soaring in the skies better than any bird, but that was impossible. Although Hermione, to her credit, couldn't help but make at least one attempt. At breakfast on Tuesday, she bored everyone at the table by quoting tips and tricks for beginners to fly, which she had learned from a library book called "The History of Quidditch." However, Neville listened to her very attentively, not missing a single word and constantly asking questions. Apparently, he was counting on theory to help him stay on the broom a few hours later. But I was very glad when Hermione's lecture ended with the arrival of the mail.

There were eggs and bacon on the table this morning. And, of course, oatmeal porridge with milk, which Harry immediately pulled towards him. I took the egg and pulled the jug of pumpkin juice towards me.

"More oatmeal," Neville grumbled. "Harry, how do you eat it every day?"

"I just add different jams or raisins, depending on what's on the table."

Harry hadn't received a single letter since Friday, which, of course, Malfoy hadn't failed to point out. Malfoy's owl - or rather, unlike the others, he had an owl, because Malfoy liked to emphasize his originality - constantly brought him packages of sweets from home, which he solemnly opened at the table, treating his friends.

Damn, he even offered Harry a pie once, but with such aplomb that Harry didn't take it. Harry told me that he came to the potions room earlier that day, and was waiting for me.

*** Pov Harry (Friday)

The hallway outside the potions room was buzzing like a disturbed beehive: students were rushing to their next lesson, someone was arguing loudly about homework, and Draco Malfoy suddenly popped around the bend - and it immediately seemed to quiet down by half a tone. In his hands was a neat box from home, tied with a green and silver ribbon; he carried it as if it were not cakes, but something much more valuable - like a rare ingredient for a potion.

Harry was just tying the strap of his robes tighter, about to pass by, when Draco stopped abruptly right in front of him, lifting his chin slightly.

"Potter," he said, as if he were doing the greatest favor. I have cakes from Malfoy Manor here. Homemade. Mom told me not to eat dry, but I'm already full. Take one. You're my second cousin.

Harry froze. He was expecting a taunt, a sarcastic joke, maybe another "famous Potter will ruin everything again," but definitely not this. The cake in its neat paper wrapper looked... ordinary. And that makes it even more strange.

"What" Harry asked, as if he hadn't heard. "Are you offering me a cake?"

After all his sarcastic jokes, it looked strange. Draco shrugged, trying to maintain his aplomb, but there was something like annoyance at his own awkwardness in his eyes.

"Well yeah. Don't look at me like I've cast a curse." It's just that they're superfluous here, and it's a pity to throw them away. And don't think it's some kind of goodwill gesture," he added quickly, as if realizing that he sounded too human. "Just... take it if you want."

Harry felt the usual distrust rise up inside, mixed with pride. Accept something from Malfoy? After all the ridicule, after all the "mudbloods" and "part-time celebrity"? It almost felt like a betrayal of himself.

"No thanks," he said firmly, stepping back a little. "I'll manage somehow."

There was something like relief and annoyance on Draco's face at the same time, as if he wanted Harry to refuse, but was still slightly hurt. He pursed his lips for a second, then grimaced as if from a sour lemon, and slammed the lid of the box shut with a slightly louder click than necessary.

"Whatever you want," he said, already turning to leave. "I won't offer you any more homemade food. If they don't appreciate it, then don't."

He took a couple of steps away, but then he couldn't seem to resist and looked over his shoulder, his voice no longer sounding so arrogant, but rather tired:

"And don't look at me like I put poison in it. At least they know how to cook at Malfoy Manor. And unlike the Weasley twins, I don't put funny potions in my food."

And with that, he turned the corner, leaving Harry alone in the middle of the hallway, where the usual noise of voices rose again, as if nothing had happened. But Harry stood there for a long time, looking in the direction Draco had gone, and thought that sometimes the strangest thing about Hogwarts wasn't the spells or the monsters, but the way people suddenly took a step towards him and then recoiled from him.

*** Draco's POV (Saturday night)

Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbow on his knee, and running a quill over the parchment as if he were writing not letters, but some particularly stubborn runes - slowly, with pressure, as if the clarity of the strokes depended on whether they believed him or not. It was already getting dark outside, and the light of the oil lamp lay on the paper like a warm spot, hiding the corners of the room and making it a little less alien.

He sighed, dipped his pen into the ink, and began:

"Dear Mother,

Yesterday I tried again to do what you asked, to establish contact with Potter. You said that we should be dignified and not stoop to shouting in the hallways, and I tried. Honestly.

They sent cakes from home, and I thought it would be... well, not a reason to quarrel, anyway. I approached him outside the potions room and offered him one. Not as a handout, but simply because there were too many of them, and it's a pity to throw them away. And also... because you said that good manners are not about bowing, but about not making things worse than they already are.

He refused. He looked proud, as if I hadn't handed him a cake, but some kind of filth. He stood there, looked straight at me, and in his eyes was his eternal: "I'm on my own, I won't take anything from you."

I didn't insist. And why? If a person does not want to accept even the usual food, he is unlikely to want to hear about "decent behavior" or how it is accepted in decent families.

But I tried. Just like you wanted.

Your son,

Draco"

He reread the letter twice, and the second time it seemed to him that the lines sounded a little more plaintive than he would have liked. Draco grimaced, as if ashamed of himself, and quickly wrote at the bottom, in a different, firmer handwriting:

"P.S. I then gave the cake to Krebb. He ate it and said it was delicious. So nothing is missing."

This added some kind of proper, everyday completeness to the situation - as if everything had fallen into place. Draco rolled up the parchment, sealed it with wax with the family imprint, and called his Eagle owl. He sat down on the edge of the table, looked at him attentively with round eyes, as if asking: "Are you sure you're sending it?", and when Draco nodded, he picked up the letter and silently flew out the slightly open window.

Draco sat for a while longer, watching the last glimmer of day fade over the towers, and then pulled down his robes, as if throwing off this evening like an extra cape.

"Well, that's it," he muttered to himself, almost defiantly. "I did what I could. Let them figure it out for themselves."

After sending the letter, Draco went to the Slytherin Common Room to his friend Theo.

The Slytherin living room was in semi-darkness, with only emerald lamps casting narrow green strips of light on the walls, and a dry heat wafted from the fireplace. Draco was sitting with his legs crossed over his legs, tapping his fingers nervously on the armrest of his chair. On the contrary, sprawled on the couch, Theo was idly turning the pages of an old volume on the dark arts, but he was watching his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, sometimes I feel like my mom is just testing me", Draco muttered, not looking at Theo, as if the words were coming out of his mouth. "Everything keeps saying, `Be worthy of the name, don't stoop to squabble, try to find a common language...'"

Theo looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow:

"And who were you trying to be `decent' with this time?"

Draco grimaced, as if he were being sour.

"With this... with Potter. Well, you know. Mom keeps saying that you need to stay above fighting in the hallways, not be like... And I'm not like that! I just wanted to... I don't know, show that we're not some kind of... that everything at the Manor is according to the rules."

He stopped, as if he didn't want to admit to himself what he was doing.

"Anyway, they sent cakes from home. I went up to him and offered him one. Calmly, without ridicule. And he looked at me like I was trying to give him a toad. And he proudly refused. No thanks, no "not hungry" - just "don't.""

Theo chuckled, but not maliciously, but rather knowingly.

"Well, he's from Gryffindor. They have pride instead of breakfast."

Draco snorted, but there was more resentment than contempt in that snort.

"That's not the point! The thing is, I try to do as my mom tells me, but it only gets worse. It's like I'm becoming ridiculous to myself. And more..." He lowered his voice, even though there was hardly anyone in the living room, "Mom talks about "family" all the time, about the "connection of generations", as if Potter is some kind of wayward cousin of ours who behaves like a Muggleblood. That Sirius invited her to be Harry's godmother, and then they just hid him. And he's not ours at all! He's nobody's man!"

Theo put down his book and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Listen, Draco," he said calmly, without mockery, "Your mom wants you to stay Malfoy, but not become Lucius. These are different things. It's one thing to keep your back straight, it's another to climb where you're not expected. If Potter doesn't want to take the cake, don't let him take it. You've done your part. You don't get along with the younger Weasley, even though he's also a third Black. Draco gritted his teeth, then exhaled, as if relieving tension.

"It just pisses me off that I have to... justify all this. Why should I even try if he doesn't even try to understand that it's not a mockery? What kind of freaks did he even live with before that? That's right, Dad says all Muggleborns should be controlled and magical children should be removed from their families, as they did in the old days before the statute of secrecy."

"Because your mom believes that dignity is when you can reach out, even if they don't accept it," Theo said softly. "And Potter... well, he's like that. He has pride as a shield: it's cold and lonely behind her, but no one will get close. I don't understand how he got along with the younger Weasley, because Aunt Muriel raised him. Even though he's from Crazy Arthur's family, he's still pure-blooded."

Draco rolled his eyes, but without any real anger.

"Weasley, pf. Is as poor as Harry. I was shocked when I recognized him in that studio. Are you a philosopher now, Nott?"

"I've become the one who sits next to you when you're angry at the whole world", Theo grinned and nodded at the table, where there was a silver box with the remaining cakes. If you want, I'll take these cakes. The good will not be lost."

Draco chuckled a little, almost in earnest:

"Take it sweet, you've always been partial to your mother's baskets. I'm not going to offer Potter anything else. Although he also likes baskets, I noticed at the feast. I was almost sitting against it then, and because of our ghost, who decided to entertain me with a conversation, I was hungry. Let him deal with his pride."

Theo opened the box, took a cake, took a bite, and nodded approvingly:

"Delicious. They know a lot about the Manor. I love your mom's pastries."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the logs crackling in the fireplace. And there was something right in that silence, as if the world had fallen back into place: not perfect, not simple, but its own, understandable, where there was someone nearby who would not laugh at your offense, but would simply take the cake and say that it was delicious.

*** end Pov

By the way, Harry also stands out with his owl. His owl was the only polar owl in school, but at least they gave it to him and he values it very much. He always goes to the owlery to check on her.

The great hall smelled of warm bread, cinnamon, and something else, homely, as if the school itself was wrapping students in a soft blanket of familiar smells. There was a lot of noise, arguing, and laughter at the tables, and in the midst of this familiar chaos, a familiar sharp scream suddenly rang out, which immediately made Harry cheerfully raise his head from his porridge with raisins.

"Ugh!"

He raised his head - and immediately found her: Hedwig was circling under the arches, white, like a piece of winter sky that had accidentally flown into a warm hall. She circled around, as if checking to make sure everything was in place, and then confidently descended and gently landed right in front of Harry, flapping her wings a little to keep her balance on the edge of the table.

"Hedwig!" Harry couldn't hide his smile. She came out wide, real, and he suddenly felt so calm, as if everything had fallen into place again. He held out his hand, and the owl immediately tilted its head, exposing the feathers at its beak to be stroked. You've arrived again! I thought you thought it was warmer in the tower"...

The owl clicked its beak as if it snorted:

"And who will make sure that you don't miss an important letter?" - and pushed him into the palm of her hand with a warm side. Harry laughed, and it sounded a little louder than it should have, but he didn't care. There were already the usual whispers around, but now there was almost no surprise in those voices - rather a familiar, almost good-natured grumble, as if someone forgot an umbrella every day and everyone already knew: well, here we go again.

"That owl again," someone from Ravenclaw drawled, but without irritation, more as part of a familiar ritual. "Well, how much can I do? She almost hit Professor Flitwick when she flew in. When I saw her flying into Gryffindor Tower the day before yesterday, I initially mistook her for a messenger of winter. Do you know how it is in fairy tales?.."

"I saw her over the woods yesterday," the Halfpuff guy picked up, leaning over to his neighbor. "Circled just above the edge of the forest. Now I'm not scared anymore: I think, well, it's Hedwig. So it's okay."

The girl in the green tie smiled at the owl:

"She's already like her own. As if there's something missing without her."

I, who had been diligently spreading jam on toast, looked up, squinted at Hedwig, and chuckled:

"Well, now we have everything at home here. Porridge, arguments about potions, and Hedwig, who always flies in like she's announcing a royal decree.

Hermione, who had already unfolded her transfiguration textbook right next to her plate, looked at the owl with a soft smile:

"You know, Harry, I think she just gets bored if she doesn't see you for a long time. Polar owls get attached. And she knows where she belongs."

Harry ran his fingers over Hedwig's silky feathers again, and Hedwig hooted softly, as if agreeing with Hermione.

"The main thing is that she doesn't drop the letter in my porridge again." I muttered, although I didn't feel annoyed at the spoiled porridge, I was just trying it out and then thinking of giving it to Harry.

Hedwig squinted at me with an amber eye, as if she understood every word perfectly, and proudly turned away, making it clear that such trifles did not concern her. Then she gently poked Harry's shoulder with her beak, quite at home, without any importance, just to remind him: "I'm here."

Harry smiled as he looked at her and thought that this was probably the real feeling of home: when there was someone who would always find their way to you, even if the corridors of Hogwarts were confusing, the lessons were endless, and the whole world seemed to expect something big from you. For now, it's enough that Hedwig has returned, sat on the edge of the table, and now everything feels a little more right again.

"Harry, are you feeding her at all?" I asked when Hedwig stared at my bacon with interest. "Hedwig, I'm sorry, but you can't do this."

Harry handed Hedwig a piece of the bun he was eating. I almost choked on the scrambled eggs I was chewing.

"Here, eat. You've been flying all day... Ron, Hagrid said she'd feed herself on rats and lemengs."

The owl squinted an amber eye at the bun, as if assessing the degree of absurdity, and turned away.

I chuckled,

"Well, yeah. She doesn't need buns. She should have caught someone. And by the way, Harry, do you know how many owls live in the owlet house? You can't feed on all the rats in the forest."

Hermione shook her head, but not sternly, but with a slight smile:

"Potter, owls need meat. And it's better not just a piece, but... well, you know. Bones, feathers- all together. They keep special food for the postal owls in the kitchen. The brownies know."

Embarrassed, Harry put the bun away.

"I'm sorry," he said softly to Hedwig. "I just wanted it to be delicious for you, like it is for me." The owl tilted its head slightly, as if forgiving this awkwardness, and hooted softly. And then, as if to comfort him, she bumped her warm side into his shoulder, saying that the main thing was that you thought of me.

"Harry, go to the kitchen, if you want to go together. And we'll arrange with the elves to supply your owl with mice or quails. Dad arranged with Mili to supply quails for Eroll, and Percy went to find out about his owl, too. Or write to Mrs. Moore at her pet store."

"Yes, let me write to Mrs. Moore at her pet store after school before lunch."

The evening in the Gryffindor common room was cozy and noisy: someone was arguing about Quidditch tactics, someone was rustling parchments, and Harry was sitting by the window, where Hedwig was sitting calmly on the back of a chair. She clicked her beak softly from time to time, as if listening to the conversations, but on the whole she looked pleased - she only glanced at Harry from time to time as if she wanted to remind him: "What about food?"

Harry sighed guiltily, took out a crumpled envelope and an even more crumpled bag from his pocket and muttered:

"I'm sorry, I fixed it. Honestly."

Мне очень жаль, но я все исправил. Честно.

"Dear Mrs. Moore,

I have a polar owl, Hedwig. I accidentally tried to feed her human food, but she doesn't seem very happy. Tell me, please, what is the right way to feed postal owls? If possible, send me something suitable.

Sincerely, Harry Potter."

And in the evening, the brownie brought him a neat bag with the seal of the store and a short note:

"Dear Mr. Potter,

a special food with pieces of quail, dried insects and a drop of strengthening infusion is best suited for the polar owl so that the wings do not get tired. And if you want, go to the Hogwarts kitchen and ask the elves: they have special treats for owls that have been tested for centuries. As a Hogwarts student, you can ask the brownie to feed your pet while you are at school. This is included in the cost of your tuition, which was paid for by your parents.

Yours truly, Mrs. Moore."

Harry carefully untied the ribbon on the bag, and a spicy, slightly wild smell hit his nose - not sweet, not flour, but some kind of forest, real.

"Look," Harry said softly, handing Hedwig one piece in his open palm. "It's from Mrs. Moore. There's... well, as she wrote, quail and something strengthening. So that you don't get tired."

Hedwig tilted her head, studied the treat carefully, then gave a short hoot, as if checking to see if he was joking, and carefully picked up a piece with her beak. She swallowed, blinked her amber eyes, and immediately reached for the next one.

Harry exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time.

Next to me, I looked up from a bar of magic chocolate from the Sweet Kingdom, squinted at the bag and chuckled:

"Well, at least it's not a bun. This is already progress."

Percy, who was sitting next to him in an armchair, looked up from his textbook on ancient runes and grumbled:

"Mrs. Moore knows her stuff. She also gave my owl such treats when she was with me on vacation. They say there's even a little frost extract in them to keep owls warm on long flights."

"Frost extract?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Is it... safe?"

"Absolutely," Percy nodded confidently. "It's magic. Everything is calculated. By the way, the extract is extracted from the berries of the snowberry, mixed with blue mountain flower."

I snorted,

"The main thing is that she doesn't start breathing ice like a Hyperborean dragon. They say they can exhale not only flames, but also ice or poison there. And also to transform into humans or elves there. They moved to us from another world in ancient times, where people began to hunt them. They say our founder is like the Malfoys of these dragons. Only the Malfoys, unlike our Bridget Wesley, had an ice dragon as their founder, and ours was a fire dragon. That's why we're always fighting.

Hedwig squinted at me, as if seriously considering the prospect of breathing ice, and hooted softly again.

Harry smiled and carefully tied the bag, leaving a few more pieces inside.

"You know," he said softly to the owl, "I'm going to be smarter now. I'll ask first, then I'll suggest it."

The owl tilted her head to the side, as if she understood every word, and gently nudged his shoulder with her warm side.

And Harry thought that the best thing about this day wasn't that he'd finally found the right treat, but that Hedwig hadn't been offended. She was just waiting for him to figure it out.

***

I finished chewing on a piece of pumpkin biscuits taken from the breakfast table in the great hall and waved towards the corridor leading down to the kitchens:

"If you want Hedwig to fly at all and not look at you like you're feeding her as punishment, go to Mili. She's responsible for the owls. Dad had made an agreement with her about Errol when he started to give up completely: to make him a separate diet, with strengthening broth and all that. Mili is kind, but strict: if you say "I want something delicious," she will lecture you about squirrels and toadstools."

Harry chuckled, but Ron's words were true: after the bun story, he wanted to do everything right. He tucked the bag from Mrs. Moore deeper into his pocket, just in case, as a safety net, and nodded:

"Okay. I will go. But Ron, it's probably expensive."

Harry, first of all, you now have money, as a last resort you can go to Professor Dumbledore, he is responsible for orphans of students at Hogwarts, and can give you more money for Hedwig or clothes. And secondly, the cost of feeding pets and students is included in the tuition fee, as well as teachers' salaries. That's why it's so expensive. As much as one hundred galleons a year for an apprentice." Harry's eyes were wide in shock.

"Ron, how did you get into school?"

"The older brothers passed on a free quota from the board of trustees. And our grandfather Ignotius Pruitt paid for me and Ginny. Even though he grumbles that Mom married Arthur in the last year of school, he still loves us in his own way. And Grandma Lucretia insisted that it was not a good idea for Black to study at a Welsh school."

"Awesome. Well, you have relatives. Will you show me where the kitchen is?"

"Finish your porridge and let's go. And by the way, Harry, you have a grandmother named Dorothy from the Blacks, why did Draco offer you a cake? He's your close relative. His mom Narcissa is also Black by blood."

"I can do without such relatives." - my friend muttered angrily, pushing his favorite porridge away. But Blackie, that's a kind of dark sorcerer, isn't it? Seamus told me about them."

"Yes, buddy, but my grandma sent them to the forest, as did Nymphadora Tonks' mother, by the way. She's your cousin."

"Is she the one who studies at Halfpuff with pink or purple hair? Is she clumsy? I thought she was Muggleborn."

"Yes, she. She has a Muggle-born father, like your mother. There was such a scandal when Andromeda Black married him. They say Nymphadora is a metamorph, she has coordination problems because of this. The gift has become too strong due to Tonks' fresh blood, and she cannot cope with the changes.

"Damn, I have so many relatives in the magical world, and all my life I thought I was an orphan. Where were they all when I was starving in the Dursleys' closet?" Harry thought resentfully. "Okay, Weasley, they're beggars like me, but where were the others?"

"Harry, at least have an omelet, it's delicious today."

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Well, at least you can eat toast with orange jam, you love it. Just recently, the harvest in the greenhouses of the school has ripened, so the jam is fresh. In the meantime, I'll finish the omelette, unlike you, I'm always hungry and I need a lot of energy. And you eat more if you want to grow up and gain meat. Look at yourself in the mirror, how skinny you are.

"Ron, I just can't eat much, I throw up right after eating. She can't really eat anything either, she's afraid of getting fat. Aunt Petunia can't really eat either, she's afraid of getting fat."

"Harry, can we go to the hospital wing after the kitchen?"

"Come on, I'm tired of being a suffocator. Aunt Marge grumbles all the time that I have worms. She even gave me and my cousin medicine once."

Harry spread a generous layer of orange jam on his toast, inhaled that warm, sunny scent, and for a second seemed to forget that a cool mist lay in a cloud on the grass outside the window.

"You know," he told me, "sometimes it feels like this jam is straight out of summer. It's like someone took a piece of July and rolled it into a jar."

I grunted, took a huge bite of his toast, and mumbled contentedly:

"Yeah. These are all greenhouses. The professor's Spraut got a lot of stuff growing there. Not just oranges, but in general... well, it's like a piece of the south right under the glass."

Neville, who was sitting next to him and diligently crumbling a piece of bun for some invisible mouse, suddenly looked up and quietly, but with noticeable pride, added:

"Oranges are the sweetest in the second greenhouse right now. I helped collect them myself. And there are lemons, figs... and mint is so thick that if you put it in a little tea, it immediately warms your soul."

Harry smiled:

"It's like you're talking about the house."

Neville blushed a little, but he didn't look away:

"Well, for me, greenhouses are almost a home. It's quiet there. And everything alive. Even if it's prickly or poisonous, it's still... well, like it's trying to grow. And I'm used to tinkering with my grandmother in our greenhouses, they've been with the Longbottoms since ancient times. We are the main suppliers of medicinal herbs in Mungo."

I glanced at him, then back at Jem:

"And most importantly, it's delicious. I wish they could bake buns there right on the spot."

Neville didn't pay any attention to the joke - he was already talking about greenhouses again, and there was that quiet excitement in his voice that appeared when it came to plants: And sage, and St. John's wort... Professor Spraut says that you need to prepare for winter in advance. Colds will start as soon as the wind starts blowing from the mountains. Supplies are already being prepared in the fifth greenhouse: herbs are being dried, syrups are being infused, and ointments are being made. Everything so that Madam Pomfrey doesn't have to run around and find where to get what she needs."

He paused for a moment, as if remembering something, and added softly:

"She once said to me, "Neville, if it weren't for your herbs, I'd go crazy here. Students are always catching colds, falling off brooms, and we should always have a supply." So... I'm trying. To make it happen.

Harry looked at Neville in a new way - not as someone who was always dropping textbooks and blushing when addressed, but as someone who was quietly, without unnecessary words, doing important things.

"So it's this jam," Harry tapped the jar with his spoon, "It's not just jam. It's... part of this very preparation."

Neville nodded, as if that was the right explanation:

"Yes. Mint in tea, rosehip syrup, and even those bouncing brownie bulbs are used to make a paste that helps if your throat hurts. Everything is connected. Greenhouses feed, treat, and... well, keep you warm, even if it's a blizzard outside."

I chuckled after chewing:

"Okay, we're convinced. Now I'm going to think that I'm not just eating jam, but... a strategic reserve against winter."

Neville smiled, just a little, almost imperceptibly:

"That's good. It tastes better then."

Harry took another bite of toast, and now the taste seemed deeper to him: he could feel the warm greenhouses, the caring hands of the housekeepers, and the quiet work of Neville, who harvested herbs in advance so that no one would freeze or get sick.

It was still pouring rain outside, but inside the Great Hall it was bright, noisy, and cozy in its own way. And it seemed that as long as Hogwarts had greenhouses where oranges ripened in the middle of winter, and someone like Neville remembered the supplies for the Healing Wing, no amount of cold could really get inside.

Part 7.2 Getting to know Miles.

The kitchen was noisy, warm, and smelled so good that any student would feel dizzy: fresh bread, spicy sauces, caramel, and something else cozy, as if the room itself had been designed to make everyone feel full and calm. Brownies scurried between cauldrons and shelves, deftly picked up plates and disappeared with them in the blink of an eye.

Harry hesitated a bit at the entrance, not knowing who to approach, but then a small housekeeper in a starched rag cap, with big attentive eyes and a very serious look, poked her head out from behind a huge pot.

"Why are you standing here like you've been sent to work?" She asked with her fists on her hips. If it's for pies, then tell me, I'll give it to you. There are those red-haired gobblers who come running for pastries all the time. But if you've come to feed the owl a bun again, then I won't even listen to you."

Harry blushed, but tried to look confident:

"No, that's not what I'm after. I... I want to know about Hedwig. About her diet. Mrs. Moore gave me food, but I want her to... well, to always have something to eat. Ron said you're keeping an eye on the owls. And that Mr. Weasley made arrangements with you about Errol."

The housekeeper softened a little, but her gaze remained stern, like that of a real housewife of the kitchen.

"My name is Miles," she said, tilting her head slightly. "And yes, I remember about Errol. An old owl, stubborn but diligent. They cooked a separate broth for him so that he wouldn't lose his strength. And your Hedwig is a polar owl, a proud northern bird. She needs meat, but not simple, but with a special approach."

She flicked her ear, and immediately a clean plate appeared on the table next to Harry with neat slices of dark, almost amber meat, sprinkled with green crumbs.

"It's a quail," Mili explained, coming closer and adjusting her cap. "With herbs that help the wings not to get tired. And also this" She took out a small paper bag from her apron pocket, "dried insects. For vitamins. Just a little bit, but definitely. And..." She lowered her voice, as if she were revealing a great secret, once a week we give them a piece of ice with a drop of frosty infusion. So that the feathers don't fall off from the cold when they fly over the mountains. Magic, of course, warms, but nature is nature.

Harry looked at all this with such attention, as if there was not a plate in front of him, but a treasure map.

"And... can it always be like this for Hedwig?" He asked softly. "I don't want her to get tired."

Mili squinted, as if checking to see how serious he was, then nodded:

"May. But with a condition. You won't give her human food. No buns, no brownies, no chocolate frogs. For an owl, this is not a joy, but a misfortune. If you want to please her, come here and I'll show you how to treat her properly. Or just say, "For Hedwig," and any elf will give you what you need."

Harry nodded, almost too hard, and promised:

"No bun. Just what you need."

Mili chuckled, but there was approval in the sound.

"Good. Then I'll write down: "A special diet for Hedwig." And if she suddenly arrives tired, tell me. We'll make her a warm broth, just like Errol. Owls get tired too, even though they don't complain. They're practically like living beings, even if they're former spirits.

Harry smiled, feeling as if a small but heavy stone had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Thank you, Miles," he said sincerely. "Really."

The housekeeper put her fists on her hips again, but now not strictly, but almost at home:

"Go ahead. And don't forget, "For Hedwig" is not just a word. It's a concern."

***

When Harry returned to the living room, Hedwig was sitting on the back of a chair and seemed to be waiting. He took a Mrs. Moore bag out of his pocket and placed a small box on the table next to it, which Mili shoved at him at parting:

"There's enough food for your owl here for a week. And don't waste it," She said sternly. "It's not a toy. The box is enchanted so that the food does not spoil. Don't lose her."

Harry handed Hedwig a piece of quail. The owl tilted its head and looked at him carefully, as if checking: "Did you get this yourself? Did you figure out what I need?", and then carefully took the treat.

I watched this scene from a comfortable armchair, watching the Brat as he had another rare period of activity in the last couple of years. Then he chuckled:

"Well, now you're officially a responsible cow breeder."

Harry looked at Hedwig, at her calm amber eyes, and exhaled softly:

"I will try not to make mistakes anymore."

The owl hooted softly, as if promising that she would be there for him even if he made a mistake.

And then she settled back, as if to say, "The main thing is that you try."

The next morning, Harry and I went to the kitchen, not as if to work, but as if on an important matter, as if something really serious depended on this visit. I grumbled for the sake of order:

"Well, down the stairs again. I thought we'd go straight to the Great Hall while the eggs were warm...."

"You told me about the Miles yourself," Harry reminded him, picking up his pace a little. "And anyway, she does so much for Hedwig. I must say thank you."

I rolled my eyes, but without real annoyance:

"Okay, okay. But if she starts giving a lecture about fortune-telling, I pretend I'm not here."

Harry really loves his owl. Last night, he texted Mrs. Moore how to please a brownie and she sent him some mints. And now we're going to make Miles happy. It's a good thing that there are food heating charms on the plates in the great hall.

***

Everything in the kitchen was just like yesterday - noise, steam, the smell of fresh pastries, only now the brownies were scurrying even faster, as if the morning added energy to them. Mili was standing at a large wooden table, putting something dark and smelling of herbs into bowls, and muttering softly to herself:

"For an eagle-owl, it's thicker, for a barn owl, it's softer, for a polar owl... oh, so as not to freeze..." She looked up, saw Harry, and immediately put her fists on her hips. The green ears swung back and forth in a funny way.

"Oh, it's you. To his owl. Did you come looking for her buns again?"

Harry blushed, but immediately straightened his back:

"No! I came to... thank you. For telling her what she needed. And for the box. Hedwig ate everything. And... she sat so calmly last night, as if she knew that everything was taken care of."

Mili softened a little, but she didn't take off her strict look-as if severity was her work uniform, like a cap. All the chefs were wearing towels with a sheet and funny hats on their heads.

"It's good. It's important for an owl to know what people think of her. They didn't just throw anything, they thought about it. Errol was grumpy, but when they gave him warm broth, he looked at them... as if he knew they hadn't forgotten."

Standing a little behind, I coughed awkwardly:

"Yes, everyone in our family treats him well. He's trying. Although it falls sometimes. Can I give him broth and a mouse again when he arrives?"

Mili nodded, as if taking the words for granted:

"Diligence is visible. And the concern is visible. And that's the most important thing. And we always give him broth until now."

Harry hesitated, then took out a small bundle tied with a simple string from his pocket:

"I'm here... well, not by myself, of course. I bought it in Hogsmeade. For you. There are mints in there. Mrs. Moore said the brownies like them."

Mili looked at the package as if it were not a bag of sweets, but something very rare and valuable. Then she carefully took it, untied the string, took out one lollipop, smelled it, and smiled - in a completely different way, not strictly, but homely.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. It's... nice. Very."

Yes, as Mom told me, brownies are very fond of lollipops. Especially with mint. Although they are respected with barberry or lemon. Good hosts are aware of this and sometimes pamper their devoted housekeepers, especially the old ones.

"Please," Harry said softly. "And can I... can I come over sometimes? Just to see if everything is okay. Or if Hedwig suddenly gets tired..."

Mili nodded again, and there was so much seriousness in that nod, as if she wasn't making a promise, but an oath:

"Come. I'll always tell you what you need. We have a special approach for the polar owl. She likes the cold, but she also needs warmth. Like everyone else."

I squinted at the huge bowl with what looked like tiny meat crackers:

"And this... is this for owls?"

"For owls," Mili confirmed sternly. "Not for students."

"I wasn't going to!" I said quickly, raising my hands. Although the smell was stupefying, I would have eaten a piece. "It's just... interesting. Errol ate so much at home."

"It's bad that you fed him your food, the owls can't eat it", She cut off the Miles, but then she smiled a little. "If you come with Harry and don't try to steal owl food, I'll tell you. About Errol, too. He was stubborn, but he was good."

I nodded, it was important to me:

"Good. I'll be coming. And I won't take anything off. Honestly."

Mili chuckled, as if checking whether she could believe him, then she waved her ear - and two warm buns with meat filling appeared on the table next to the guys, each in a separate linen shawl.

"Here, take it with you. The filling is chicken with onions and a pinch of thyme. So that you don't lose your strength while you're running through the corridors," She said, becoming stern again. "But this is for you. Not an owl."

Harry smiled, picked up his bun, and suddenly felt like the morning had somehow become right. Even the upcoming flight lesson stopped scaring me.

"Thanks, Miles," he said again. "Really."

I bit into the warm side of the bun and my mouth was full.

The housekeeper nodded, adjusted her cap and picked up her bowls again, but when the boys were already turning to leave, she added quietly:

"If Hedwig arrives tired, come straight to me. We won't let anyone hurt her. No cold, no hunger."

Harry paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but he couldn't find the words. He just nodded, clutching the bun tightly in his hand, and followed me to the exit.

And as we walked up the steps, I glanced at him and chuckled:

"You know, taking care of someone is kind of like magic too. Only the quiet one."

Harry didn't argue. He just thought that yes, that's probably what magic is most needed: not flashes and spells, but someone in the kitchen who remembers what kind of food the polar owl needs and who won't let it get tired. We came to the great hall.

"Are you eating your oatmeal again? This is the third week in a row you've been eating it."

"She's... familiar," he said softly. "Don't think about what to choose."

"Are you going to have soup broth for lunch?"

"Yeah, Ron, I'm not hungry."

I frowned. I waited for my friend to eat and dragged him to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. I should have done it right away. He's so skinny.

"Let's go."

"Where to?" Harry looked up.

"To Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm not sick, Ron," Harry began wearily. "I'm just not hungry."

"Who says you're sick?" I replied firmly. "But if you're losing weight, if you don't even have the energy to chat at Quidditch, then you need someone to look at you. She won't give you potions if you don't have to. Just... take a look. And Harry didn't resist. Because arguing now was harder than just getting up and walking with Ron through the quiet corridors, where the noise of the Great Hall was far behind them.

***

The Hospital Wing smelled of herbs and tranquility. Madam Pomfrey greeted us not with severity, but with the special attention that comes from those who are used to noticing little things: how a person holds his back, how he looks, how he breathes.

"Madam Pomfrey, please look at Harry, he's so skinny and apart from his favorite porridge he eats almost nothing."

She sat Harry down on the edge of the bed, quickly and deftly checked his pulse, looked into his eyes, tilted his head slightly, and sighed - not irritably, but as if she knew this was not the first such case at Hogwarts and would not be the last.

"You're not sick," she finally said, more assertively than asking. "But you're eating too little. And at your age and with your life, your body can't live on oatmeal alone."

Harry blushed, as if he had been caught doing something shameful.

"I... just don't want to. I'm used to the Dursleys not eating enough." Harry really didn't want to admit that he could have been starved for weeks if Uncle Vernon was mad.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, as if this was the most common and understandable explanation in the world.

"It happens," she said calmly. "When there's too much around, you can't get a bite in your throat. But the body must still receive strength. That's why I'm going to prescribe a course for you: not potions, not powders, but just order. Warm broth in the morning, then porridge, then something soft: a baked apple, a curd casserole, a piece of steamed fish. And the brownies will bring you smaller portions, but more often. To avoid being "too much."

She looked at me and smiled a little:

"And let a friend drop by sometimes. Not to stand over your soul and force you to eat, but to sit next to you. Porridge tastes better when you're not eating alone."

I immediately straightened my back, because I was entrusted with an important task:

"I will. I... well, I can just talk about the twins. Or about Quidditch. Or about magic chess, how to play it correctly. Or be silent at all. Which is better?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled again:

"Which is more pleasant to him. The main thing is that he should not be left alone with an empty plate. Harry, I'll ask Lety to bring you some broth, and you can eat porridge and fish in the great hall with the others."

***

Later, when they returned to the living room, I walked beside them, not too close, but so that Harry would know that I was there.

"So there's no "eat every last crumb," I muttered, as if I were reminding myself of the rules. "Small portions. It's warm. And I'm here."

Harry glanced at me and smiled a little:

"We can talk about the twins. If it's not too loud."

"Not too loud," I promised seriously. "And without explosions. Almost."

And Harry thought that maybe there really is something in this new order: not that there is a lot to eat, but that someone nearby does not require you to be cheerful, cheerful and hungry, but just sits and talks about something of his own while you finish more. one spoonful of warm porridge.

Part 7.3 the first flights.

Оставить комментарий © Copyright Горный-Цветок (galinasky1410@yandex.ru) Размещен: 12/06/2026, изменен: 14/07/2026. 316k. Статистика. Роман: Детская, Фэнтези, Фанфик miscellaneous translations into English. Harry Potter Скачать FB2		Ваша оценка:
Аннотация: Finally, I, the pure-blooded wizard Ron Weasley, enter the Hogwarts wizarding school. My best friend Harry and my friend Hermione had a lot of exciting adventures back then. (Revised version with inserts of new text about Ron and interludes on behalf of Harry.)

Горный-Цветок Ron-Weasly book 1. V2

Горный-Цветок
Ron-Weasly book 1. V2