Volume 1

Quidditch, how many meanings there are in this word for modern wizards. The only national sport that has been attracting everyone's attention for the second hundred years. At the moment, it was quite difficult to find a magician who didn't know about this flying broom game. And there were just a lot of fans of this game, almost every second wizard was rooting for this or that team. The other half are women and Maglocks... well, almost.

Tom didn't really like Quidditch at the time either. Not only did he never have a serious talent for managing a broom, but also Quidditch players enjoyed a certain popularity at the faculty. They were even forgiven many shoals, which for ordinary mortals were considered unforgivable. In general, yes, Tom had enough reasons for disliking Quidditch.

Draco is another matter. Oh, this boy loved Quidditch just a little less than his father before I came. But if the love for his father was a fake, which even Draco himself did not notice, then he loved Quidditch sincerely and with all his heart. It could be said that the last Draco was a real fan of this game.

I, in contrast to both of my donors, treated Quidditch more than neutrally. I didn't really want to play it, but I didn't mind watching one match either. Especially since Slytherin was playing against Gryphendor. I was only in favor of cheering for my native faculty, and the weather was very good. It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful autumn day vegetating in the castle.

And the atmosphere of the general holiday stirred the blood quite well. I even regretted for a second that I did not try out for the role of a catcher in our team. But only for a second. Even though I love to bask in someone else's attention, especially when it's so positive, but I wasn't going to ruin my daily routine for just a few minutes of fame in a year. Quidditch practice takes up too much time. Our athletes sometimes train for eight hours a day, honing their skills.

But there is not much point in these trainings. Except in the game, the skills to quickly maneuver on a broom and perform aerobatics have nowhere else and will not be useful. The only real plus from such training is a good physical shape and the development of magical channels throughout the body. Still, a broom requires a constant, albeit not very active, influx of magic to fly.

But even such advantages are not worth such a long and monotonous training. It is better to engage in physical development on your own, and I have learned special exercises for the development of manoconals for a long time. Besides, in good weather I can quite afford to fly on my brand new broom – Nimbus 2001. My father gave it to me, thinking that I would want to break into the national team of my faculty.

By the way, Terence Higgs, our catcher, had my broom now. He personally asked me to "drive" her, but I did not refuse. No one will forget such help to my native team, Quidditch is too important for students. Hence the reason why I gave away my own broom so easily. If I got greedy, my reputation could go to the bottom.

- What's wrong with this bludger? Daphne asked, somewhat surprised, pulling me out of my own thoughts. For the last ten minutes, all I've been doing is calmly watching the development of the game, and digging into my own memory. I just couldn't actively go crazy because of the game, like many and many others. I didn't care too much about the result of this game. I didn't even bet on my native team, purely out of laziness. It was banal for me to go to the local bookmakers for the sake of a petty bet.

"You mean the one chasing Potter?" I asked somewhat distantly, remembering the last ten minutes of the game. Mental magic is really able to grant absolute memory, but to remember something does not mean to realize something at all. And now there was a clear example of that. Even though I remembered the whole game in the smallest detail, but I didn't do the analysis of these very details, which is why I had some hitch. It was necessary to simply "look through" your own memories in order to understand what was going on.

- yes. He's acting too weird. Even the Weasley twins can't keep him away from his catcher for long. - The girl explained the obvious thing for me. But I didn't interrupt. Calmly listening to the conclusions from my fiancee's observations. I have not finished the evaluation of this girl until the end. She was too secretive and cautious a person for me to read her as easily as the same Pansy.

- He is most likely enchanted... - I say, reaching out with my senses to the malicious ball. - Moreover, it is enchanted well. The audience almost does not pay attention to it, considering it something insignificant and faded. I add, rising from my seat. This kind of stuff doesn't exactly fit into the normal framework anymore. Mass mental enchantments, if they are superior to magloot-repellent, are considered illegal and belong to Dark Magic.

- This is ... - Daphne immediately understood everything, rising after me. There is a sense of upbringing, not every pure-blooded wizard immediately understood the reason for my anxiety. But Daphne, who knows the whole collection of laws of magical Britain by heart, immediately got her bearings in the situation. Well done, what else can I say.

- Let's go to the dean. I said dryly, starting to get out of the stands. Well, pulling Daphne out after him. Still, a crowd of raging teenage magicians is quite dangerous. And if I coped with the pressure that arose, my skills in magic were even too much for such a situation, then the girl could have been trampled. Fans, what can I say here…

- Professor Snape. - I turned to my godfather, who was sitting on the edge of the teaching platform. By the way, all deans of faculties take a similar position. In case of force majeure in the stands, they must intervene in time in the emerging conflict. And then, you know, there have been cases when fans of one team start throwing spells and curses at fans of another team. At the same time, usually, three faculties surprisingly synchronously oppose Slytherin.

- Draco? - The professor raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking down at the slightly disheveled me ... I had to make my way through the raging vultures to reach the main stand of the stadium.

- Professor. I nodded. - Pay attention to the bludger that is chasing Potter. - I gave out in one breath, confident that the professor could handle it himself. All wives, my sensitivity to magic should not exceed that of a master potion maker. Brewing potions is a really subtle science that requires a very special sensitivity to magic.

"... Professor?" - Daphne squeaked a little surprised, having heard something ... abusive from Snape. Yes, the professor only had to "stick" Potter and his entourage for a couple of moments, as he rang out with such an obscene tirade that even I listened. Yes, and the "professor" for protection from the dark forces looked at the potion maker with some crazy eyes. Apparently, I did not expect such an outburst of anger from a fanatically sarcastic and calm colleague.

- Draco, Daphne. - The man addressed us, leaning forward slightly from his seat. - Go back to the stands and don't tell anyone about what you found. Then I will deal with this problem on my own. - Fiercely flashing his eyes in the direction of the director, the dean gave out. Well, we had no choice but to obey. We both understood that we had just got into someone else's plans, and neither of us wanted to receive for our own initiative.

It could have been that the bludger was enchanted not just by someone, but by one of us Slytherins. It's over, there are almost no morons at the faculty who would dare to break the law because of such a trifle as a quidditch match, but that's what "almost" is. Someone like my squires could well have decided on such an idiotic act. Only the power of the imposed magic confuses…

It feels like a full-fledged artifact has been fused into the bludger. And the vague traces of elven magic confuse me somewhat. Elves can't do too complicated sorcery, but they can quite fuse some artifact into the structure of an enchanted thing... a strange situation. Especially if you remember that there is no way for other people's house-keepers to go to Hogwarts. Only housekeepers who report to directors and deans can work here. The rest of us here can only find death…