Chapter 11
The standard route was from the station to the Magic Quarter, sell the HECC products, exchange the galleons for pounds, change clothes, and take a train ticket to Little Winging. The headmaster received the letter, sat glassy-eyed like a somnambulist, picked up the phone and gave orders. I've seen this somewhere before. Yes, magicians are not original, but the charms or amulet ropes given to Sprout in time easily and casually remove questions from ordinary people. They put me in the same room with the same guys. I left my things, took my glasses and went for a walk.
There was nothing new in the magical webs that hung over the Dursleys' house or its inhabitants, but the atmosphere was, shall we say, unhealthy. Apparently, Harry had recently had a magical outburst that had frightened everyone and seemed to have resulted in punishment. The boy had a hungry look in his eyes. Had to struggle a bit with an attack of humanity. Finally decided "what the hell" and threw a candy bar with peanuts at the boy. It was not difficult to do, the little one was just with hedge bushes, I threw it with a banal leviosa and went on walking and thinking.
The summer was spent traveling on the beaches of England. I swam, sunbathed, earned a good living. It was the middle of the eighties, there were no metal detectors in free sale, as well as those who liked to look for lost things in the sand. The complex of muggle-repelling and summoning charm perfectly allowed to find earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and many other very valuable things. There were three kilograms of gold scrap, and there were pebbles in it, as well as silver. Of course, the Wizarding Bank and the goblins who owned it asked no questions about handing over all their hard-earned goods to Gringotts, and generously handed out gallions.
An account of six thousand gold pieces and a purse tied to it, that's the financial result of the summer of 1986. I went to school good dressed, and in an old trunk was a supply of materials for making a new HECC and other interesting artifacts. I had a very good vacation.
The sixth year began in a very ordinary way. Feast, distribution, and everything would have been fine if Madame Sprout hadn't decided to burden me with social work. What had gotten into her? Or had she inhaled the wrong kind of pollen in the greenhouses with the dangerous plants? All right, one thing at a time. The kid who was supposed to be head boy suddenly didn't show up at school. Family emergency. Finally, there was a vacancy.
Emma, our head girl, who was on her own, asked me to help out. Apparently, I was just the first one on the train. There was no reason to refuse, I had no desire to stay in the compartment and talk. I kept the girl company. After the party, I helped collect the little ones and escorted them to the faculty lounge. That's about it, I thought. Only Pomona disagreed. Since you took the initiative, Mr. Smith, here's your badge, go for it, I believe in you. It's a goddamn reward. I had to agree, refusing this coveted and very honorable position would not be understood.
In general, there is nothing particularly difficult about the work of a headmaster. A few months of escorting freshmen to the great hall and to their classes. Explaining the unspoken and, above all, the unspoken rules of conduct. To help in word and deed, to fight as best I could against the sadness of mom and dad, the latter, thanks to magic, Emma successfully took on herself. I had to make sure that the people around me followed the school rules, inform the students about the administration, and so on, and a lot of other things I had to do.
Frankly speaking, I didn't want to waste time with the kids, so I decided to get rid of many problems preventively. Under my guidance, the first classes did lessons together and practiced spells. They were rewarded with joke spells, recipes for all sorts of safe but fun functions, transformed toys, and ideas for fun. Usually they were all done before dinner, after which the children were turned over to Emma and I could go about my business. The girl was a great storyteller, knew a lot of interesting things and knew how to present them, so it was no easy task to find a junior badger wandering around the castle after dinner.
By November, everything was in place and on track, kids were studying, HECCs were being assembled and enchanted, books were being read, lessons were being taught, new artifacts were being considered. Slytherin and Gryffindor were slowly coming into line, but the process was still in its infancy and almost imperceptible. Snape had not yet lost devotion to McGonagall and was emphatically right. The idyll was shattered by a young Gryffindor girl who had followed into the forbidden forest at night.
The heads of the Lion Faculty had only discovered her in the morning, and not by themselves. Operative interrogation on hot leads revealed the following picture. A couple of debauched maidens from pureblood families, neither ancient nor noble, had chased the Muggleborn. The girl had no better idea than to run away from school. It's a complete disaster. And I'm not talking about the situation, but about the headmaster's decision to organize a search and rescue expedition with own forces. No Aurors and no parents, Merlin forbid. Now I think Woodpecker could have given the first years a night in the woods to train.
How do wizards find the missing? Search spells, amulets, and rituals. How are we supposed to find the child? To comb the forest with our feet. They said the child couldn't have gone far. And between the lines, they said she was eaten just beyond the edge of the forest. Find the body. After a few hours of wandering through the woods, they found a piece of clothing with traces of blood on it.
While the crowd of elders and teachers screamed, I wandered around quietly picking leaves and grasses with blood on them. I cast a spell and received a recommendation and an answer. The child was still alive. Oh how I ran, oh how I regretted that I had practiced magic but had forgotten the body. Luckily, the girl ran into acromantulas. These giant, almost pseudo-intelligent spiders never kill their prey outright. They paralyze them, wrap them up and drag them back to their lair, where they eat them when the time comes.
There was no epic massacre, because after I realized who my opponent was, I turned on my brain. It is possible to kill this horde, but only by using something area and murderous spells, which is not an option in this situation. So I can either play invisible or negotiate. It's a pity that the corresponding amulet hasn't been made yet, it would be much easier.
In general, spiders, both ordinary and magical, are mostly oriented to different vibrations, although acromantulas and not bad eyesight are different. The difficulty is that their lair is covered in webs. This makes standard cloaking spells practically useless. The feverishly working head came up with the idea of levitating, covered with chameleon spells and a barrier, like a bubble on the head, but turned outwards and covering the whole body. Thanks to Magic, a snake caught my eye and redirected my thoughts in the right direction. After all, I'm not the Chosen One, so I can't always get succeed by luck.