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Harry Potter: New World

It is enough just to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whether a series of accidents, or a coincidence, but now I have to be reborn in a completely different world. A forced entity that controls the flows of souls in one of the branches of the worlds, contrary to its desire and dislikes for "anomalies", is obliged to give out powers and bonuses - these are the rules. What will life be like for someone who was not destined to survive? If you want to support me or read ahead: https://www.patreon.com/HPMan At least one chapter every day!

HPMan · Phim ảnh
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430 Chs

Chapter 211

A late December winter morning greeted me with a frosty wind and snow in my face. What on earth made me go for a run outside? Wanted some extreme? Of course, the Scottish cold is nothing like what I'm used to. Even winter here can pass so that you don't even see snow, just slush, and eternal hoarfrost. But this time, just before Christmas, the weather decided to please us with really heavy snowfall, just like in the second year.

The last month of life and study flew by completely unnoticed. Improving my transfiguration skills with Hermione under Lady Greengrass's keen guidance, and without trials like "Survive or Die" - everything is measured, gradual. However, because of my abilities, everything goes pretty fast. Occasionally you can spot Delphine's pensive glances in Hermione's direction. As far as I know, Lady Greengrass does not need another apprentice, but Hermione's success seems to be prompting her to consider an official apprenticeship. In a week and a half of leisurely lessons, Hermione mastered the apparation, but she could not do battle transgression - it was too easy for the girl to fall out of it whenever she was a little distracted.

From time to time, I complete the assignments I borrowed from the teachers and submit them for evaluation, invariably receiving an "Outstanding." Only my potions grades in the class ranged from "Exceeds Expectations" to "Outstanding." Still, it's really hard science that requires talent and a certain mindset.

The project with Professor Flitwick is moving rather slowly, but here I simply don't want to get too ahead of Hermione at the expense of Rowena's abilities. In the idea of an "artificial wizard," as we called the project to create a magic control device in the accumulator of magic, and in the project to upgrade the storage capacity, we need to do an incredible pile of calculations. We, and the professor. And we're all very busy doing other things besides that.

Once every two days, we dance in a tent in the Chamber of Secrets. It turned out to be a pretty good idea, and, in addition to the skills, it helps to get closer in a certain physical plane, so to speak. Now tired and weary Hermione, falling asleep on my shoulder on the couch in the common room, or I, just as tired, resting my head comfortably at her feet on the same couch is a common occurrence.

Speaking of common occurrence, balls, and so on. In the first decade of December, Professor McGonagall gathered our House in a ballroom, the existence of which no one seemed to even suspect. She announced the beginning of an educational program in the field of dancing and showed all the movements on poor Ron Weasley. Ron's twisted face was a delight to the eyes, and as it turned out, not just mine. Of course, we had to dance, and of course, Hermione and I were paired up. And the twins kept joking around, watching the shy actions of the fourth and fifth years. They had invited Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson on the sly during our performance in the Great Hall.

From the moment the ball was announced, there was an incredible commotion in the castle, and my action caused a tangible resonance. Some people admired it, others cringed, but the entire male cast of Slytherin looked at me with hatred. Why? Well, they had to invite their ladies, and they went a little crazy there on the background of their own contrived aristocratism and party politics. The Slytherin girls didn't want to be invited if the invitation was more modest than mine. They tried their best in their own way and didn't actually advertise it publicly. However, echoes of Slytherin's general resentment echoed from the dungeons every single day.

The girls who had already agreed added to the frenzy, discussing costumes, outfits, accessories, their matching, and so on. But what surprised me was Hermione's attitude.

"Well, I assumed there would be some sort of holiday event of this nature," she stated one day after practice. "After all, a dress and a dress robe were on the list. I also assumed that I would go with you one way or another because logically, I don't really hang out with any of the boys anyway, and... Have you seen them?"

"Yeah. It's funny."

"It's funny... It's like they fall under Petrificus when they try to talk to a girl, and before they told us about the ball, everyone was communicating pretty well. And then it suddenly dawned on them that girls, it turns out, are also girls!"

"So what's with the clothes? We are together, after all."

"Exactly. I'm sure you will dress in all black. So my mom and I tried on different black dresses once just for fun. You know, it's incredible how good black things are. I had a crazy idea, a typical girlish idea, to wear a fluffy pink dress. When I was little, sometimes I imagined myself as a princess in a dress like that."

Hermione blushed a little.

"It's okay. I guess. I never imagined myself as a princess."

The girl only rolled her eyes sorrowfully toward the ceiling at that remark.

"However," she continued. "Soberly assessing the situation, I gave up the idea of looking like some sugar-vanilla doll. I ended up with a black dress and some silver jewelry."

"I see. But you're right. I'll be all black."

"A Black Knight on a white horse? Are we going to need Colin's help?"

Repeatedly I was reminded of the poor transfigured third-year, albeit a volunteer. It was a good thing that the recollection was in the form of a joke, not a rebuke.

So that solved the issue of clothes, though Hermione didn't show me the dress. I asked Kreacher to pick out a suit in a letter, giving him all my sizes and preferences. The Blacks' wardrobe is a huge warehouse of stylish clothing, albeit conservative. Along with that, I asked him to pick out the silver accessories. No surprises. Otherwise, you could get into something in the house on every corner that suddenly came to life, biting and shooting nasty spells and curses, easily pulling the eye over the ass.

At the feast, which was usually a farewell before the holidays, it turned out that only a few were going home for the vacations, and that only from the first and second years. As a result, a gorgeous feast in a Christmas atmosphere, with a gorgeous, as always, Christmas tree and other decorations, became just another feast.

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