Episode 10. Part 2

Episode 10. Part 2

***

- Ah, Lord Potter, you finally deign to condescend to mere mortals," the woman in the poisonous pink dress said sweetly, but no less venomously, as her secretary ushered her important guest in. She was contemptuous enough of the Lords, but still times better than the Mugglewomen. She was envious, and despite her advanced age, she still hoped to be a Lady. Until that happened, she had to fawn over those Lords that Fudge favored. And he had made it clear to her once: Potter was untouchable. It was a pity Cornelius didn't see in this young man what she saw: in case the Minister made a mistake, the boy would not only not support him, but help bury him..."

"You look beautiful, Miss Umbridge," Harold bowed his head respectfully, greeting the woman. He appeared calm, but his stomach was shaking. It happened to be the first time he had arrived at the Ministry of Magic unaccompanied. Usually the escorts were Sirius or Nicholas or the faithful Dudley. All three usually not only instilled calm, silently supporting him, but also corrected him unnoticed by those around him. Now he was alone, fully aware that from the slightest mistake he could lose almost everything. He, as Lord Potter, was responsible for many things. And it was a responsibility that the fourteen-year-old boy could hardly carry on his shoulders. - As for your comment, I would like to remind you that the fact that I am an emancipated adult and Lord, does not negate my duty to obtain a quality, Ministry-approved education," he chose his words carefully, responding to the outburst, which, again, as Lord Potter, he simply had no right to bear.

- Well, that's commendable," the Assistant Minister smiled indulgently and charmingly (as she herself thought) at the national hero. - But your duty..." "I know my duty, and I know how to prioritize," Potter interrupted her abruptly and coldly, not sure if he could pick a fight with the woman on equal terms. She was far from Snape, of course, but this toad was resentful, and she had more connections and influence than the master sorcerer. She was bound to get revenge for her attitude, if anything. She had to make the best of it, remembering the admonitions of her cousin and Nick's grandfather.

- The votes of an illiterate wizard in the Wizengamot could make things much worse for the country. Wouldn't you agree with that? - Umbridge nodded and could not find the answer. So she had to cut to the chase: "What can I do for you personally now?

- I know that you wanted to block the vote for the reopening of the Tournament of Three Wizards. But your work, to my great regret, was not appreciated," Potter thought that a little veiled flattery would not hurt. - I, as you know, as a student, came across this very tournament and, frankly, I seriously fear that, despite the ban on participation for those under seventeen, my name, as the name of an adult, may still appear on the list of champions. - The cousins weren't just afraid of that, they knew that Harold, willing or not, would be Hogwarts champion. Too many people wanted that. That's why they decided it was worth alerting influential allies, particularly Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, in advance. Besides, it was a chance to diminish a little the influence of the Headmaster, who had been out of favor with the Minister ever since the Blacks' escape. Fudge was sure that Dumbledore was responsible for the escape of both, and was angry with him, because it shook his ministerial chair badly. - Do you see where I'm going with this? - Miss Umbridge was a little nervous:

- Do you think they want to kill you?

- The Boy Who Survived has many enemies," Potter grunted indefinitely, squinting as the fish took the bait. - And I've come to you with the intention of finding out the name of at least one of them. Tell me, who is the wizard who called for the resumption of the tournament? - And the Assistant Minister was convinced that Harold James Potter was not a supporter of the head of the Wizengamot, and he must have guessed whose idea it was to revive the tournament. What if the boy suspected the headmaster of trying to overthrow Fudge, for example, or at least trying to kill the Boy Who Survived-He Was Out of His Control? If so, it was a chance to serve Fudge and move up the ranks!

- Oh, that's a name I'd be happy to reveal to you," she said affectionately to the boy, who suddenly seemed to her a very promising young man through whom she could make a difference in her life. - I must say that even the minister had doubts to the last. But Albus Dumbledore managed to convince both him and the Wizengamot. - Her keen eyes could not fail to catch the gloominess of her guest. He was obviously expecting to hear that very name, but he was still hoping for something else. - What do you intend to do, Lord? - she asked cautiously.

- I want to take advantage of my fame, Miss Umbridge," the young man smiled thinly at her, giving her one last hint.

And how fortunate that Umbridge did not see him on cotton legs make it to the atrium, where he sat down on one of the benches. His nerves were on edge, and Harold tried to calm them, scrolling through the conversation in his head, wondering if he had said too much, if the pink toad had understood his hints correctly!

***

- They didn't even give us a table! - in his native Bulgarian, Victor Krum, the world's best catcher and Durmstrang student, grumbled softly to himself when, after the tedious journey, as well as the Hogwarts headmaster's speech and the superficial introduction of all the members of the Durmstrang and Sharmbaton delegations to Hogwarts, they were invited to sit at one of the four student desks at Hogwarts. He was extremely unhappy with the British mages' hospitality, and so were all the guests. So Victor agreed with his comrades without question. They were walking along the large hall, when at the red table, one of the guys, seemingly not at all interested in what was happening and quietly sipping his juice, without turning around, in pure Bulgarian mockingly said, it seems, responding to the athlete's indignation: "Welcome to Hogwarts! - The students of Durmstrang, hearing the native language, looked at the undisputed leader of their delegation (as a famous athlete) with a glance. He didn't hesitate to walk over to the guy who knew their language, especially sitting near the edge of the table. At which, if you look closely and squeeze the hosts, there would be enough room for all his companions...

- You seem to have enough room at your table for us, if I may," he said somewhat awkwardly to the lad in his native tongue. He turned around lazily, as if reluctantly - and this while almost the whole school was looking at him - looked at the crowd, hummed something of his own. Victor's comrades murmured, saying it was an honor to have them at their table, but the guy was slow, making them wait, as if he were the boss here, and they were nobody. But Victor looked steadfastly into the sorcerer's green eyes and realized that, unlike the others, before him was a real British magician, about whom the legends of wizards of his native country had been told. Harold (and it was him), meanwhile, blew his whistle briefly, attracting the attention of all the students in his department, then raised his hand sharply upward and made three incomprehensible gestures to the Bulgarians. Gryffindors, not risking to mess with their personal Dark Lord, and yet, also the unspoken leader of the faculty, synchronously shifted, squeezing, thus freeing the guests almost a third of the table. Even the disgruntled ones moved-they were forced to.