Chapter 21

I ended my ten-day vacation with a visit to Little Winging. I won't interfere radically with the canon. But you should keep your hand on the pulse. In general, the real world is not half a children's book. Dumbledore and his companions, like Voldemort and company, had their own truth. And you can't say anyone's truth was better. Even radicalism could never be said to be good. Both sides were aware of the need for change in the magical world.

Moreover, they were objectively overdue. Except that the parties disagreed. And the Horcruxes of the leader of the Aristocratic Party affected the methods. Ripping off large chunks of aura is generally unhealthy. Such a piece, of course, will keep the core from leaving the boundary, but on the brain by the damage to the mental layer hits very hard. Tom may not have been crazy in the full sense of the word, but he wasn't what you'd call sane.

Harry had changed a lot since the last time I seen him. He was a skinny little boy with the hunted look of a beaten dog, afraid to raise his eyes from the ground and reflexively shrinking at sudden noises. At the same time, he had a well-developed energy. Already at the level of a weak freshman, and yet he had not yet had eleven years of power increase and primary stabilization of magic. Yes, the method of development is certainly radical, but it is effective. It's silly to argue with the demonstrable results.

Dumbledore is a fine psychologist. Even now, the child is ready to cling to any person who shows a modicum of care and kindness. But only light charms attached to him will nullify the likelihood of such an undesirable event. A Muggle would not be interested in a child, even a Squib would probably be repulsed, and the chance of meeting a wizard in this backwater is exhaustively small. The town is quite ordinary in terms of magical background, but it is on both sides of the average.

Is it easy for an adult to just take a nine-year-old boy and get to know him? Not too easy. Especially when this boy is cruel to others and expects nothing good from them. I had to follow the kid around, waiting for the right opportunity. Dudley and his friends, who had caught the boy in the park, kindly arranged it for me. I shooed away the hooligans, helped him find his glasses that had fallen off during the scuffle, lent him a handkerchief to wipe up the blood, fed him an apple and a candy bar, and shared a bottle of mineral water. I bought food at the store while the chosen one worked in the garden. I wanted a snack myself, and it was good to have some food in his pockets to build rapport with a clearly malnourished child.

Harry was shy at first, of course, but he was just a poor kid, a little care, a little kindness, a willingness to listen, and there he was, telling the whole story of his short life. He's afraid to be interrupted, push him away, say: "Not my problem." oh Magic, he doesn't have anyone to talk to. Just tell him. Without asking or hoping for anything. It's terrible. Noticeably better mind shields from children's emotions cracked, but they held.

I sat and listened, scratching the bench with my claws. The consequences of training in Animagic. After all, I had already reached the stage of minor partial body transformations. I would have caressed one bearded bastard with an Avada and rewarded the other, bald one, with a Bombarda Maxima.

I got home late, we had a long talk with the little one. I took a couple of beers and went to the pavilion. Guzar was sitting beside me. The snake has become much wiser lately, but at least he's not growing any more, he's only grown a meter. But now it began to change in the energetic and physical plan. I'm watching it a bit, taking regular measurements, maybe I'll get an interesting study at the intersection of magozoology and transfiguration with a dash of chimerology. Using tail of snake as a seat is comfortable, it fits me perfectly, so I watched the early stars from a semi-reclined position and drink beer.

Harry didn't ask me for anything, of course, but even without magic it was clear from one look that the boy was dreaming of another day like this. What do you want me to do? Arrange for foster care? He's not an orphan. I mean, once every few weeks, I guess it's doable. Especially when the school year starts. The boy is out on the streets after school and into the evening. Maybe that's what we should do. But I'm not going to tell him about magic and sorcery. After all, the Statute of Secrecy is still in effect. And you can't tell if you're looking at a mage or a squib. Or rather, you can, but you'd have to cast a spell, and so on the level of feelings you can only assume with some probability.

Squibs, by the way, are a very interesting phenomenon. They have magic, and they can even have a lot of it, but in their aura the connections between the layers are broken, so they cannot use magic. You can theoretically fix it, but in practice no one will. At most, they'll perform a blood initiation ritual and bind them to the altar and the stone. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't. It's a roulette wheel. Sometimes banishment with severing of ties is beneficial, but that is more of an exception. And also because of the presence of power on these unfortunates, all the evil eye, spoilage, and curses feel great because they have a boost.

The worst thing is, if their children are born with a gift, they get all the badness from their ancestors. That's why they're Mugglelove, by the way. Most Muggleborns are actually descended from Squibs. They don't leave the wizarding world because they're oppressed and scorned, though they're not without that, of course, it's just harder to pick up new curse among the commoners.

August came, and my little sister returned from her vacation full of impressions. The poor owl was tired of carrying her messages, and the house was once again full of guests. But only on weekends, I still worked. The school letter arrived and we went shopping in Diagon Alley, as was our custom. There were, of course, a lot of wizards with children of various ages. Anna, praise Merlin, was old enough and independent, so I gave him a purse full of money and blessed the little one to go shopping. But two thirds of the adults did the same. While the young people had fun with their company, buying necessary and not so necessary things, the elders made income to various points of catering.

At the same time, they socialized with each other. I, due to my age and a certain disregard for convention, settled down in an ice cream parlor and indulged in gluttony. For some reason, adult witches and wizards were embarrassed to come in and eat a few servings of cold treats without children. They must have had some special cockroaches in their heads.

I spent the entire month of August studying with my little sister in the Muggle School program. Textbooks are textbooks, but you have to be able to solve problems. I also did a cover operation. Transferred the girl to Little Winging High. So now there's an official reason to visit the town. I don't know who will start digging for what. I know the orphanage, I know the schools in town, that's why I put the girl in one of them. The girl passed the exams easily and with the highest score. Nobody dared to criticize my sister.

Weak and sickly child sitting in a wheelchair Anna played on the excellent, well, and I with the imposition of illusion tried to conscience. Shamelessly read the thoughts and feelings of members of the school board. Usually, many of the girl even admired, not just pity. You bet, found the strength to learn and even personally appeared at the school. In general, everything worked perfectly.

I had seen Harry only a few times during the summer, but each time had been a big event for him. It wasn't a big deal, really; we went to a cafe, watched a movie, played the machines, just talked. I didn't talk much about myself, more instructive stories about student life, and I listened to him. I tried to give the child useful patterns of behavior for the future. I taught the boy how to ride a bicycle, organized a birthday party. With a real cake and presents.

He cried from the excess of emotion. I told him that I would soon be doing student internships in the city's schools, but I made him sad that I wouldn't be working there. Well, Dumbledore was mistaken, he would not be the only authority and truth for the boy in the last resort.

The fall was marked by a breakthrough in the mastery of combat magic. In general, this term is first and foremost a banal foresight. Spells fly, if not instantly, then at least no slower than an arrow. The only way to dodge them is to anticipate them. The retired Auror who trained me patted me on the back and said his work was done. I know more about chars than he does, so now it is up to me not to be lazy and to develop the acquired skills through training. But according to him, I'm the right guy, stubborn in a good way, so I'll make it. He believes to me. Of course, without experience in real life-and-death fights, progress will be slow, but it would be better if I didn't need these skills at all. I didn't argue with the obvious. I shared a bottle of vintage cognac with my mentor, wrote out a bonus, and wished him good luck.

There was another success, this time in the field of Animagi. During the summer, I could turn nails into claws and do similar nonsense, but now I learned to transform the whole limb and grow a tail. In general, my Patronus was a mongoose, at least that's how I'd defined it. However, it is not always possible to identify a specific animal in a large, brightly glowing, semi-material thing that is galloping around. Especially if it doesn't have distinctive features. Like antlers or a lion's mane.

Basically, Animagic was pretty useless in terms of practical application. But as always, there were nuances. For one thing, Animagi were not dangerous to werewolves. And not just in animal form. If the wizards had been less lazy or the school administration more adequate, all fifth-year students would have mastered this ability, and lycanthropy would have been nothing. No special powers or sacred knowledge were required to become an Animagus, just a little perseverance and hard work. Three fifth-year wizards learned it on their own.

And I suspect, they did not use any special potions or rituals to make the process easier and faster. At most, they transformed each other, much like the real Alastor Moody. Draco turned into a ferret, but that wasn't it. The second nuance, which I think is much more useful, is metamorphosis. Here you really do not need even the most intimate, but very broad and deep knowledge of biology in general and anatomy in particular. And it is desirable to have more strength. And, of course, training and more training.

I gave Harry a kind of Christmas present. I gave him a set of keys to a house I'd bought on the outskirts of Little Winging. I didn't tell him it was mine, but he didn't ask. Obviously, I didn't just give them out for no reason, like keep them and come in whenever you want. No, no freebies. The guy had to buy food, keep the house and its surroundings clean and tidy. For this, in addition to the opportunity to sit outside until evening and not wander the winter streets, he received a small salary. Enough to eat at fast-food restaurants and buy clothes at thrift stores.

Somewhat unexpected was his initiative to cook dinner and breakfast. It would be sacrilege to forbid such a strange form of gratitude, especially since he had a clear talent for cooking. At the same time, I explained that I'm not always at home at night. They say, not only study and work until night, but also meet with friends. However, he was not interested a legend, and he did not pester me with uncomfortable questions. Unlike the neighbors. It was good that I had expected something like this, so he promptly treated half of the street. I didn't risk casting a spell on the house itself, just in case Albus showed up or sent someone, and there was an unexplained wizard living here.