Chapter 11 Candid conversation

My assessment of the situation was too crude and immature. That "hello, let's be friends" thing was stupid. Based on the foreknowledge and behavior of guys like Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, I decided that my approach with a simple offer of friendship would be appropriate. I thought of my comrades and rivals as children. Yes, I was a little wary of the Slytherin house, and in the orphanage I paid tribute to Hopkins ' intelligence, explaining early adulthood with difficult conditions. But I missed Attwood, simply because he was trying to keep a low profile. I did not notice the intrigues that are already being conducted in the first year, believing that I am operating in a free space, well, or at least in a not very tight space.

Now I was given "second roles", in "other people's performances", and it would be very difficult to change something. And in fact, I didn't really want to change anything. Now I could calm down a little and do what I wanted to do. Thanks to Diggory, Attwood's influence on me is limited. Bruce was a little late with his "friendship", waiting for the moment when I would be completely desperate. He might have ignored me completely, since the fish had fallen off, but he didn't want to leave an unknown variable behind.

I was very knocked out by the realization that I was not a good judge of people. I quickly signed Davis up as an acquaintance, and then as a friend, and this made me blind to his shortcomings. I have now described his main features exactly: calculating and cautious, even cowardly, superficial and impatient, willing to get a quick return on his efforts, quickly losing interest in the subject if it is not useful for a while. I mean, in order to maintain some kind of warm relationship with Davis, I would have to do him some good all the time. Looking back, I realized that this friendship was doomed to discord and the troubles that I had only accelerated the process.

It was on the second that I went to see Madame Pomfrey. She confirmed the arrangements and set a schedule. Cedric, who had followed my example and also applied to Madam Pomfrey for practice, was also assigned a schedule. Our schedules didn't overlap much. Cedric was going to try out for a spot on the quidditch team as a catcher, so he would have less time to work in the medical wing.

Real practice turned up rarely, but quite steadily. Bruises and colds in students occurred regularly. Scratches, burns from magic potions, minor curses, and even a single fracture, that's what I had to treat. I also learned how to brew all the basic potions needed for the hospital wing. The bonus was a deeper knowledge of poisons and antidotes. You could say that in potions I could be given an automatic exam, the highest grade, because it happened that the midterms were canceled altogether, they still do not play a special role. But, no, this year I had to pass the exams on a par with everyone else, because Madam Pomfrey is not a professor at Hogwarts, but is part of the staff, like Hagrid, for example. Accordingly, work in the medical wing cannot be counted as a project.

But the benefits were probably even greater than the greenhouse. I got a promise from Madam Pomfrey that I would write a recommendation to Mungo if I decided to become a witch doctor. She appreciated my abilities very highly.

There was nothing surprising in my success. With my ability, I could progress in learning faster than the most capable student who had ever been at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle or Crouch Jr. at the same stage of training showed more modest results. But in case of real danger, I would not be able to rely on my knowledge and skills, they were still insufficient. Rather, I would bet on some trick or obscura, in short, on the surprise factor.

"It is not with my luck that I can count on a favorable combination of circumstances," I thought. — There were times when people had guns in their pockets and had no way to use them."

Oh, yes, obscurus is a force that the enemy can never expect to meet. But if I just get smacked on the head so that I lose consciousness, obscurus will be cut off from the opportunity to prove himself. The information is inaccurate, but most likely.

"Cedric," I said to my friend, in a rare moment when we were both free from all activities, " I wanted to show you a place.

"What place?" Diggory asked simply.

— Perhaps you've heard of him, is portrayed I thought, ' this is the Room of requirement. I've shown it to Davis before, and we've been training there. But after a while, Davis stopped going there, and I'm not even sure he remembers it.

"Come on," Cedric said, " how can you forget that?" I'd heard of this room, but I didn't think I'd ever see it again.

Applying my ability to Cedric, I made a description of his main features. He was as calculating as Davis or Attwood. But unlike Davis, Cedric was patient, and unlike Attwood, more courteous, and also, Cedric valued friendship, which distinguished him for the better from both Davis and Attwood. Oh, no, he did not value friendship above all else and did not consider it a supreme good, he just understood that friendship in the long run can give much more than the banal use of people to their advantage. This attitude was not false or hypocritical, Diggory believed that friendship is a mutually beneficial exchange, even if no one receives any visible benefit. He was willing to do a favor for his friend simply because he was a friend. It's people like Diggory who make Hufflepuff the way everyone knows it.

I led Cedric to the entrance, walked past the tapestry three times, explaining my actions to him. When the door appeared, I immediately stepped through it. Cedric followed me.

— I've tried creating a library with all the books from the forbidden section — "I explained the limits of the Room's abilities," but the magic of this place can't recreate the complex magic it provides copy-protected books in this form.

I handed the book to Cedric. He opened it, flipped through a few pages, and slammed it shut.

"It's empty —" he said, something I already knew.

"Yes, all protected books or with their own magic will be empty," I confirmed. — I was hoping that the Room of Requirement could create training golems or something like that. Simulating wizards for training sparring could make this place incredibly valuable. But all that this room can give is a laboratory for brewing potions, a place to relax or a library with public books, or something like that.

I handed Cedric the book.

"A defense against the dark arts textbook?" Cedric asked.

— Yes, — I did not begin to be bored, but very old. That's probably what Dumbledore learned.

"I wonder," said Diggory, flipping through the pages of his textbook, " if the current textbooks are much thinner in volume. "I have a couple of old textbooks at home," Cedric said, " that my grandfather used to learn from. At that time, I did not attach any importance to the fact that they are better than what the ministry recommends now. "I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time," I said.

— But I don't know exactly what I want to tell you.

— You don't trust me?" Diggory said gravely, looking worried.

"That's not the point," I said, shaking my head in a negative gesture. — The thing is, I don't know what I'm going to tell you exactly. Of course, I was afraid you might be like Davis. I showed Davis the place, but I didn't talk about anything serious, thank Magic and Merlin. I'll tell you!

Cedric sat down in one of the chairs that the Room had created at my request and prepared to listen.

"There was a civil war in the wizarding world about ten years ago," I said. — The Dark Lord promised magicians equal rights and, relying on the old magical families, promoted the revival of old traditions and magic itself.

"I know that," Cedric said calmly.

"Yes," I said, " any full — blooded wizard knows that, or almost anyone. The Ministry of Magic is actually leading the society of magicians to fool and average all wizards to some common standard. This was seen and understood by many wizards from magical families. The Lord spoke the truth and was supported by many.

Cedric frowned, but said nothing.

"Everyone, the ministry, the Lord, those who opposed the Lord, and those who supported the Lord, all fought for power. Then the whole world was hanging by a thread from destruction. None of them, or perhaps very few, understood this.

— I do not quite understand, — muttered Cedric, what do you want to say?

"The Lord spoke of destroying the Muggles and enslaving the remnants," I said earnestly. "The Muggle-borns are convinced of the power of the man-made civilization that ordinary people have been able to build. Purebloods, on the contrary, are convinced of the superiority of magicians over simpletons. I'll tell you this: both are right.

— How's that?" Cedric asked.

"The simpletons, relying on squibs and renegade wizards, can actually destroy magicians as a society. To do this, it is enough to launch a nuclear strike on Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic. To do this, it is enough to carry tactical nuclear devices into the territory of these institutions. Most likely, the shielded electronics will last long enough for the devices to work.

"Without the ministry and the school, the Mages will break up into small, unconnected communities," Cedric said, understanding what I meant.

"Yes," I said, " but magicians can also destroy Muggles, which they will surely do after an attack. I'm not talking about those fools who will rush to take revenge with a wand at the ready and will surely die, killing a hundred or even a thousand Muggles who will not even realize that they are being revenged for something. I'm talking about those magicians who will lock themselves in a laboratory and create a magical plague that will mow down millions of people, or those remnants of magicians who can create such a contagion that will raise the dead from their graves, turn the living into the walking dead.

"There is no such magic," Cedric said knowingly, " there is no mention that anything like this is possible.

"Even if there were such a thing," I said, smiling, " the mention of such a thing would be hidden as much as possible. There is a certain balance in the world right now. The more stupid the mages are, the stronger the world will be. In other words: whoever can destroy something owns it-the policy of terror. Magicians can destroy the Muggle civilization, and it is enough for one smart magician who is familiar with the ideas of Muggles.

"You say terrible things," Cedric said thoughtfully. "But Muggles can destroy magicians, too, can't they?"

"Only as a society," I said, " it's likely that many mages will survive. First of all, those who have their own protected territory with the ability to maintain an autonomous mode of residence for several years will be able to survive. A place where there will be fresh food and water, supplies of everything necessary for several years and security from the outside world. I'm not talking about the later consequences yet.

"Manors of pure — blooded magical families," Cedric said thoughtfully. "The Lord wanted to start the apocalypse?"

"I don't think so," I said. — I'm not sure that's what the Lord wanted. Most likely, he wanted the same thing as Grindelwald, the removal of the status of secrecy from the magical world. The special services of the Muggle world understand that they will not be able to stop the end of the world if everyone goes all in. The Ministry generally arose from the need to monitor compliance with the statute of secrecy.

"If you think back, you'll see that the Lord didn't really want to destroy the Muggles and plunge their civilization into the Middle Ages," I urged Cedric, " the Lord didn't want to destroy the Ministry of Magic, he wanted to take it over.

"Well, let's say," said Cedric, " that everything you say is true, but what are you getting at?

I could tell Diggory something more about the structure of the society of magicians and the dangers, such as the strange structure of the Order of the Unspeakable. About an order that is under the authority of the ministry and at the same time outside this authority, about an order whose members do not know who is in their ranks, about an order whose duties are uncertain.

One of my ancestors, who was a member of this order, was convinced that within the order there should be an inner circle of initiates who know more and pursue some unclear goals for the ordinary member. Of course, there must be a head of the order. But there was no answer in the ancestor's memory. The ancestor himself sometimes thought that the head and inner circle once existed, but they no longer exist or simply do not exist.

"I'm not getting anywhere," I said. — I told you all this to explain that the civil war was not an internal affair of the wizards, that the situation was not monosyllabic, no matter how you look at it.

"Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts next year," I continued. "Who knows what he's like?" Just be careful.

— You think Potter is somehow dangerous to me?" "Cedric didn't take my warning seriously.

"I don't think Potter himself is a danger to you," I said, feigning nonchalance, " but the powers and events that might swirl around him... they might be dangerous even to Dumbledore."

"Ah, I see," said Cedric. — Which side would you choose?"

"I don't like either side," I said honestly. — I don't understand why the Lord would want power over Muggles at all. If you take Grindelwald, he believed that he would greatly enrich and ennoble the world of simpletons. Most full-blooded magicians first meet the simpletons at King's Cross Station, and when they graduate from Hogwarts, they never see them again. Most people have enough of their own little wizarding world, consisting of their own house, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Some of the magicians believe that if they have been to Lyutny Lane, visited the magic quarter of Paris, and some other school of magic, they already know everything about the world.

I'll tell you — "I continued," most Muggles live pretty much the same way. An ordinary person, and I'm not talking about possession or inability to magic right now, does not need the whole world, a small cozy corner is enough for him. I guess I'm too ordinary, until ... until I've had enough of my cozy corner. But I want to make sure that the Dark Lord doesn't come to me one day and destroy my little world. And I don't want to tremble, afraid to take a step outside of my world.

"I know," said Cedric, " I wish I could just live and not be afraid of anything. But you make it sound like the Dark Lord hasn't been defeated, like the war might start again.

"Ah, you noticed," I said, grinning. "Try asking your father about something like that. Most likely, he will yell at you and send you to learn lessons, or pretend that he has an urgent matter, and promise to talk later.

— Why is that?" Diggory asked.

"They're all afraid," I said simply. — If you read the old newspaper clippings, you'll see that the Lord's mark is still there.

"A brand?" Cedric asked.

"Some of the Lord's followers were able to avoid punishment, and that's why they try not to mention the brand," I explained. The Lord put to his followers the label. In the event of the Lord's death, the mark would disappear. But, judging by some reservations in the newspapers of those times, the label did not disappear. This mark was the first proof of involvement in the organization "Death Eaters".

"So the Lord is alive?" Cedric asked with fear in his eyes.

"I don't know," I said, " but I'm sure he's not dead.

I started this whole conversation to test Diggory on whether he should be trusted in something serious. The way I called Voldemort made Cedric himself speak cautiously, because that was what his followers said about their master. But calling him "he-who-must-not-be-named" or "you-know-who" was also awkward for me. The very essence of what was told was true. There was a time when the Unspeakables even created retribution weapons in case of Muggle aggression. Then these ideas were buried, as completely inconsistent with the interests of the ministry and the society of magicians. All the inconsistencies in the actions of all parties during the civil War that I pointed out to Diggory also took place. It turned out that the whole war was a banal redistribution of power.

Cedric understood everything I wanted to say, and in many ways he shared my opinion about the last war: It is better not to get involved anywhere, but to have a loaded weapon at hand. We didn't take any vows, but we were satisfied with each other's position. I didn't say anything superfluous either. There were indeed references to marks in the newspapers, and the attempts to restrict mages are clear to many. My opinion on all this was somewhat original, but it is not particularly revolutionary. My guesses are not dangerous to anyone.

Next year, Potter will be at Hogwarts, and that means the end of the peace. I had to decide on the position of my only friend. I was going to help Potter myself, but in a way that didn't expose me. Plus, I was planning to take some steps next year to try to find a mate again.

The Patil sisters, Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass, and perhaps someone else worthy of attention were going to appear at Hogwarts. With the words "let's be friends", I was not going to approach anyone, but you can try to do some service, just be polite. There was no plan.

But all my thoughts about the future, my third year at Hogwarts, were swept away by reality.

"Mr. Blair," McGonagall said to me one afternoon after school, " the headmaster wants you, follow me."

As we walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, my thoughts flew like machine-gun fire in my head. The fear that Dumbledore had decided to brainwash me was real enough. There was no way I could defend myself, and an experienced master legiliment, I thought, would be able to guide bookmarks and give me the right direction, the right one for him. I remembered a little trick, to give myself a small but noticeable cut that would remind me of the past. If I can remember when it occurred, there was no unnatural interruption to my thoughts. True, Dumbledore might see my trick in my own thoughts, then he would heal the cut, and there would be no way to find the discrepancy.

Better a small chance than none, I decided. "Especially since simple legilimency techniques won't get me through, obscurus won't."

Surreptitiously, I took one of the spare feathers out of my pocket and scratched my palm. The wound was shallow, even the skin was not completely torn, the blood barely came out. But it was painful, and then it will also itch, it will attract attention.

"Thank you, Minnie," said McGonagall Dumbledore, releasing her — " tell Filius I have Mr. Blair so he won't worry."

The director's words alerted me, but nothing threatening, in fact, was not.

"Tea, Mr. Blair?" the director suggested.

"Yes —" I said, " thank you, Director.

The director handed me a cup of tea and looked at me, then at my hand.

"Did he read it?" I thought, looking away, " but I didn't even feel anything. No, he probably felt my discomfort from the cut in my arm, that's all."

"You are the best student at Hogwarts, my boy," the headmaster began to say, " there has never been a student in my memory who has made more progress in his studies than you. So I want to make you an offer. Now, a lot of attention is paid to cooperation and establishing relations between wizards of different countries, " said Dumbledore, smiling. - Ministries and schools are determined to strengthen ties.

I see that you don't understand yet, "said Dumbledore, sipping his tea from his mug and flashing his glasses cheerfully," what's this got to do with you?"

There's plenty of time before the Triwizard tournament, I thought. "In any case, I wouldn't have been warned about this. Most likely, the case on which I was called by the director concerns only me and the school."

"You're right, Director," I said, " I don't have any guesses.

"Well, none at all?" Dumbledore laughed. "The fact is, Mr. Blair," said the headmaster, "that there is an exchange agreement between Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Charmbaton, with a student exchange program ... oh," the headmaster drawled, " I think you've begun to guess?"

I didn't like how easily the director read me by the slightest signs — changes in facial expression or body position.

— None of the professors did not agree to go to Harmattan or Durmstrang, — told the Director. — I'd love to go to a French school myself, but unfortunately I can't leave Hogwarts for long. Durmstrang refused to send any of his students to Hogwarts or accept a foreign student. SABATON also does not send to us, but they agreed to accept a student from Hogwarts. And the honor of representing Hogwarts has fallen to you, Mr. Blair — " the headmaster said, raising his hand in a restraining gesture to keep me from peppering him with questions. "Wait until the end, Mr. Blair. You're the best student at Hogwarts, judging by the first two years. I myself am almost sure that you can already study in the fifth year and pass the SOV brilliantly at the end of the fifth year. No one will be able to represent Hogwarts better than you. In addition, your maintenance, if you agree, will be tripled, and you will not incur any debt, no more than provided for by the usual financing program.

Dumbledore was smiling. Yes, he managed to surprise me. But he surprised me not by the fact that I, it turns out, have a debt, but by the fact that he decided to tell me about it. Usually, Muggle-borns learn about debt when they receive their final diploma. Then it turns out that they have certain debts to the school and the ministry, which reliably keep the poor tied to the world of magic. In addition, leaving after the fifth year, a young wizard still can not cast magic until the age of seventeen, according to the law.

Dumbledore took my surprise at the information itself, which convinced me that he wasn't reading my mind after all.

"Only ignorance of the language can be an obstacle to a trip," the director said somewhat painfully.

"I'm a fast learner," I said, making up my mind, " if I study for at least a month, I'll be able to understand French quite well, and if I practice, I'll be able to speak tolerably well."

"All right, Mr. Blair," the headmaster nodded at me, " then you will go to Charmbaton, where you will study for two years. In the fifth year, you will have to return to study with other students of Hogwarts and pass the exams of owls. In addition, your studies in France will be marked in your personal file, which will give you additional prospects if you go to work in the Ministry of Magic after graduation.

Then the director explained to me what documents he would prepare and what I would have to do and what procedures I would have to go through. Notify the administration of the shelter, go through a special procedure for registering a wand, issue an international portkey, sign a consent to the student exchange program. For all this, I will be taken out of the shelter a week earlier.

"Ugh," I breathed as I left Dumbledore's side and looked down at my scribbled palm. The trick didn't come in handy, well, thank the magic.

The principal was removing an unknown factor from the school. Apparently, in his plans I was not needed, rather, even harmful. My thoughts that maybe I didn't stand out too much turned out to be stupid. Dumbledore noticed me, but decided to postpone the decision for a couple more courses, just floating me away.

Yes, he won't be able to watch me at this time, but it won't hurt anyone. And what the headmaster said about the debt suggests that if I cooperate with him, he can help me after I graduate from Hogwarts.

It was something to think about…

I was glad to leave Hogwarts for the first two Potter courses myself. A Voldemort-obsessed professor and a Basilisk, that's not what I need. It's a pity that I won't be able to see Granger, Patil and Greengrass right away, but I hope there will be time for that.

As expected, I passed the exams at the end of the year with the highest marks.

I told Cedric right away that I wouldn't be at Hogwarts next year. He didn't know anything about the exchange program, it was the first time I'd ever told him about it. I thought for a moment that Dumbledore had actually thought up this program just for me, but dismissed the thought. To build such a garden just for me alone would be too much waste of energy and money. Obviously, the ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Trustees are involved in this program.

— You're probably going to be very busy this summer?" Cedric asked me on the train as we drove home from Hogwarts for the summer holidays.

"The director said I'd be picked up from the shelter early," I said, " and there would be a lot of paperwork and agreements to sign before I was sent to France."

"It's a pity," said Cedric, " I wanted to invite you to my house for a week.

"I don't think they'd let me go," I said. "The shelters don't have freedom of movement. The absence of the ward in bed after lights out is considered AWOL. I probably wouldn't have much trouble if your father or confudus or whatever spell took me, but if the information leaks out, he might get in trouble, and I might get in trouble, too.

"No, no, don't think so," Diggory assured me, smiling, " he would have taken official permission from the Ministry of Magic. Two shekels for the application form and half an hour of time, that's all the costs.

"Just like that?" — I was surprised.

"Well, yes," said Cedric, " any trustworthy wizard can take you in for the summer, but only with your consent. During your studies, the headmaster and dean are responsible for you, so you are allowed to cast spells. During the holidays, they are not responsible for you, so you can not do magic.

"But why," I asked, my eyes bulging, "why do you have to fill out a lot of paperwork to send me to Charmbaton?"

— Yes, everything is fine, "Cedric urged me," it's because you're going to France. The bureaucracy between schools and ministries is affected.

"It's still weird," I insisted. A lot of paperwork might be fine, but why would it be so easy to take a Muggle-born into temporary custody?

— What's the big deal?" Cedric asked in turn. — If everyone agrees, what obstacles can there be?

"I guess you're right, — I agreed.

At the shelter, I supported the authority of Hopkins, which in my absence was a little shaky, but resisted. During the time I was in the shelter, I managed to completely restore her social weight in the local hierarchy, even increase it. It even turned out to put a little pressure on other teams and explain to the guys that there is no need to organize revolutions in my absence. I'll be gone for two years, but I'll be back.

At the beginning of August, the director himself came for me, gave me a bunch of sheets to sign, and then, warning that one of the teachers would come for me tomorrow, apparated without looking back.

The next day my dean, Professor Flitwick, came for me. He apparated me to the ministry, after which he told me for a long time how proud he was of me and how much I was honored.

Filius Flitwick was actually very proud of me, because I was the best student in the second year. I suspect that the director also praised me.

After a few minutes, the director picked me up and began to lead me around the offices of the ministry. At first I tried to remember the names and positions of the people he introduced to me, but after the first two I gave up the idea.

It'll come back to me if I have to, I decided.

Among those represented were some people completely unknown to me from the canon events: aurors, ordinary clerks, assistants to various officials, even one of the inexpressible.

Dumbledore settled everything with me in one day, managing to solve some other problems along the way.

"Stay in the shelter and don't go anywhere," the director warned me one last time, handing me over to Flitwick to take me back to the shelter. — I can pick you up at any time and send you to France on an international portkey."

"Excuse me, sir," I said to the Headmaster — " but are you going

to France with me—" — I'll bring you along, my boy. The more I'm gonna need to see Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Sambacana.

With a nod to Flitwick, the headmaster went about his business, and the dean and I went to the apparation platform, from which we were transported to the cul-de-sac I already knew.

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