Well, what can I say? Harry had never seen such a sunny, warm and at the same time amazing place in his life!
An elongated structure, made up of several houses stacked on top of each other in the shape of a pyramid widening towards the top - among Muggles, something like this could only be found in the work of an avant-garde architect firmly addicted to substances. And considering that all this was constructed and fastened not with steel and concrete, but with wooden beams and clotheslines, and was also clearly swaying and creaking in the wind, there was only one explanation for the existence of this structure.
Magic.
"Eat up, Harry!" the plump red-haired woman, Mrs. Molly Weasley, whom he already knew, smiled kindly, pushing more mashed potatoes onto the boy's plate. "You're so pale, you need to eat more!"
Harry coughed, trying to hide his laughter - Mrs. Weasley's excuse was so-so. It was obvious that she simply enjoyed taking care of and overfeeding everyone around her - both her own children and other people's - until they were completely stupefied. Because "pale" Harry Potter was quite developed and even slightly muscular for his age - and generally looked all of fourteen years old when he was really twelve! And not "pale", but the owner of skin of a noble, aristocratic marble shade. You have to understand!
But he still happily gobbled up Mrs. Weasley's cooking: she cooked, like Aunt Petunia, superbly! Only, unlike the latter, she did not make contemptuous grimaces, showing with her whole appearance that every bite would be written down in the long list of endless "debts" of the nephew to his relatives.
The Weasley family most often ate together. Which is not surprising: given the summer crowds in their house, Mrs. Weasley simply would not have had the time or the food to cook for each family member separately - not to mention the strength!
However, her food was still incredibly varied and high-quality. Harry read the fairy tale "The Hobbit" a couple of years ago - and the Weasleys reminded the boy of those very hobbits. Starting from the fact that they lived in the "Burrow" and ending with the fact that for all these English meals like second breakfast, lunch, dinner, five o'clock, supper and so on, they always had something to snack on. And for each, Molly managed to cook something simple, but special and very tasty!
In general, young Potter liked it in the house of the red-haired family. Moreover, in addition to delicious food, it was fun and very interesting here! Moreover, Harry the twelve-year-old boy and Harry the wizard of Chaos were equally intrigued!
The strange construction of the house with its winding passages, wooden hatches and rickety gallery between the side wings. The mechanisms that were found in Arthur Weasley's garage, in addition to the flying car, were all clearly either already enchanted in some way or were about to be enchanted. The strange and eerily secret experiments of the Weasley twins, which they were sometimes forced to conduct outside the house, on the bank of an unnamed river or in a distant grove, far from the eyes of both the local Muggles and their formidable mother.
And then there was the ghoul in the attic, the garden gnomes in the vegetable garden, the fairies in the same grove nearby - and much more! For example, the conversations and arguments that Harry unwittingly witnessed.
This summer, Bill, the eldest of the Weasley children, came to visit his parents. And Harry liked this guy!
Calm, measured, with long red hair gathered in a luxurious ponytail, falling to his shoulders, he usually did not enter into any arguments and discussions at the table - he preferred to silently and with obvious pleasure absorb his mother's cooking. As Harry found out, Bill worked for the Gringotts bank as a curse breaker. Moreover, in the Egyptian branch of the bank. That is, he was constantly on the move all over North Africa, lived in tents, ran through the deserts and climbed into abandoned tombs and treasuries. And the fact that he enjoyed just sitting quietly in the bright parental kitchen and eating normal hot food, especially cooked by his mother, was quite understandable.
Bill only intervened in the rest of the Weasleys' dispute once, when Arthur and Percy pressed Ron again about his interactions with the youngest Malfoy.
— ...More than that! — Percy, the third son of Molly and Arthur, with a solemn face and stern horn-rimmed glasses, declared, getting heated up. — Not only are you rude to the older students who make completely fair remarks to you! You also allowed that slippery Malfoy to drag you into a criminal story with McLaggen! You!...
- Enough! - Bill suddenly intervened, looking up from his food and frowning at his middle brother, causing Percy to stop and cough. - Listen to yourself! "Criminal History", of course! Ron and Malfoy should be given a medal for that "history". Because they wanted to teach McLaggen a lesson back in my time, when he was little! And judging by the fact that this bastard started hitting on girls in his senior years, he didn't get enough!
Arthur was not so aggressive in these arguments, he only mumbled something unintelligible like "well, son, you understand" or "it's somehow wrong" and other incoherent nonsense. And after the eldest son's attack on Percy, he completely diverted the conversation, setting Molly on Bill. Who immediately began pestering him about his long hair and the earring in his ear.
- Mom! - It was Bill's turn to defend himself. - A normal hairstyle, fashionable! Look, Harry wears the same - you don't tell him anything!
"That's different!" Mrs. Weasley snapped adamantly. After which, without explaining what exactly "different" she meant, she continued her attack on her eldest son with a proposal to "quickly trim that mop of hair so he looks like a human being."
Harry liked these squabbles. There was something so... lively and bright about them. Something that never happened in the Dursleys' family. His aunt and uncle were always discussing either Vernon's work, or the neighbors' gossip, or even the weather. Or they would simply praise "our brilliant Daddypussy" together, while simultaneously making light of "useless and talentless parasite Potter."
The latter, however, they no longer allowed themselves. The armed neutrality that had been established between them had only worked so far because the Dursleys instinctively felt a threat from their nephew and were in no hurry to climb under the descending guillotine. Harry himself did not want any extra attention from the wizards - and it would be guaranteed if he harmed his relatives directly!
And the summer went on! August this year was warm and sunny - which was far from a frequent occurrence for old England. Harry enjoyed his holidays, chased garden gnomes with the Weasleys, ran to the river to swim, played Quidditch with Ron, the twins and even Ginny - who was still able to overcome her embarrassment and leave the room before the eyes of the "great Harry Potter". The embarrassment that flew off her completely as soon as the girl sat on her broom and soared into the air!
At one point in their games, Harry even gave her his Nimbus 2000 with a touch of condescension, saying that it would even the odds a bit. Ginny just narrowed her eyes at that, but took the broom. And the competition became much more interesting…
In general, those around him were terribly amazed by what Harry did on his broom! What was his feint worth when he soared up like a candle, pulled himself up and stood on the tip of the broom, hovering vertically at a great height, and then, when it finally fell down, with an incredible feint he grabbed it in the process of free flight and came out of the dive right at the ground!
To be honest, even the twins were so impressed that they had nothing to say. Ron even started to give examples of various international Quidditch stars, but quickly stopped short when he realized that even the most crazy of them would never think of doing something like that.
Bill joined their discussion, and after seeing their art in the sky, he ran to the field... and saw the end of Potter's trick. After which he only chuckled and shook his head, not saying anything about Harry's suicidal antics. He only explained:
"Such an exit from a dive does exist in world practice," he clarified Ron's words. "And this, by the way, is a trick from the Seekers' arsenal. It's called the Wronski Feint - from the Eastern European Quidditch school."
- Yes? And how is it used? - Harry asked with interest.
- Initially, Josef Vronsky used this feint as a way to instantly grab the Snitch if it appeared near the ground - with the level of broom enchantment at that time, this was an incredibly difficult and terribly dangerous trick! Many overconfident players paid with their health and lives trying to reproduce it. But later, when the Hurricane and Nimbus lines began to appear, - Bill raised his finger, - another way to use it appeared. Deceiving the enemy Seeker.
He paused for a few seconds as they reached the vine-covered gazebo at the far end of the Burrow's garden and sat down on the benches inside. He glanced around furtively and pulled out of his jacket pocket... a Muggle lighter and a pack of Camels.
- So, kids, - taking a cigarette in his mouth, he looked sternly at the kids surrounding him, pointing his finger in their direction. - This is not a mother's word! Is that clear to everyone? - Bill looked especially closely at the twins.
- Certainly!
- Deal!
- We are the grave!
- Not a word!...
— ...Not a word!
"Okay, okay!" Bill raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, laughing. "I understand, I'm counting on you."
"So what about tricking the Seeker?" Ginny asked, her eyes shining as she kicked off her sandals and sat down on the bench with her legs tucked under her.
- Oh, yes, - Bill nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette and leaning back on the bench. - At the beginning of the 20th century, the sport of Quidditch experienced a real boom! Brooms began to improve at an amazing speed, new models appeared all the time - and now many, many people could reproduce the Vronsky Feint. Simply using the resources of the broom itself. But this technique was still considered very difficult and dangerous - and it is still considered to be, - a close look at Potter, who pretended not to understand what it meant. - Despite this, the technique began to not only be reproduced, but also to develop techniques against it. For example, in Germany and the then Austria-Hungary, they proudly declared that they learned to counter the "Fint", inventing the technique Vronsky's Shadow. The essence: pursuing the seeker, like a shadow, and knocking him off his trajectory when he dives for the snitch.
Bill chuckled strangely and continued:
- But it was quickly proven to these guys that calculations and bragging are one thing. And talent is talent! - he raised his finger again, as if to emphasize the importance of what he had said. - One fine day, Vronsky's son, Janek Vronsky, went out onto the field against the German team and, in the final game, pulled off the family's signature trick. Everyone thought - including the German Seeker - that he had simply spotted the Snitch. Well, the German dived after Janek in a precise and practiced manner, trying to use their vaunted "Shadow". But instead of grabbing the Snitch, he continued to rush toward the ground - and abruptly came out of his dive right next to the grass! The German Seeker realized the deception too late - or did not realize it at all - and so crashed to his death!
Everyone winced at Bill's last harsh remark. Except Harry, who had expected something like this.
- In general, - the eldest Weasley offspring spread his hands, having finished smoking and put out his cigarette, - since then this Feint has been known as a deceitful one. And the Austro-German school of Quidditch was then given a good slap on the nose! Some particularly crazy Quidditch fans even say that German wizards unleashed the First World War on par with the Muggles in order to get even with the impudent Poles - but this is complete nonsense, in my opinion, - Bill spread his hands.
"What war?" Ron blinked in confusion. Bill just chuckled and shook his head:
- Raise your horizons, little brother! Go ask Harry, he lives with Muggles, - he nodded towards Potter, who frowned with displeasure. The reminder about the Dursleys made him angry!
But Quidditch was just one of the entertainments at the Burrow – and one that Harry enjoyed primarily as a boy. But as a warp wizard, he was interested in something else…
"Garden gnomes, then ," drawled Smarty, as Harry examined the creature lifted by its heel. The little creature resembled a potato or a tuber with legs and arms - Potter had seen similar images in Hogwarts textbooks and on the packaging of the Chinese balm that was in Aunt Petunia's medicine cabinet. Only the former were called mandrakes, and the latter were called Ginseng, and had nothing to do with garden gnomes. "Interesting little creatures. Intelligent ones, too!"
"So, in theory, they'll do instead of Kneazles?" Harry asked curiously.
"Even better!" exclaimed the Smarty enthusiastically. "Kneazles, although they have limited intelligence, are still animals. These… creatures ," - again a close look at the gnome, who was sluggishly twisting in the boy's grip, trying to break free, - "have an intelligence much closer to that of a human or a house elf."
Harry nodded to himself, staring into the wide eyes of the captured creature. And then, in accordance with Mrs. Weasley's instructions, he grabbed the legs of the garden gnome and, having spun it around, sent it flying beyond the boundaries of the vegetable garden. But he made a note to himself: find out from which direction these creatures approach the red-haired family's garden. Perhaps it was worth paying them a visit?
The latter, by the way, would have to be done quickly: a group trip to Diagon Alley was planned soon, after which there would be sorting out the purchases and other concerns. So Potter, having consulted with his voices in his head, decided that it was not worth delaying.
That very distant grove where Fred and George brewed their potions and conducted other experiments was not chosen by them in vain. It was located behind the bend of the river, not far from which the Burrow stood, and was hidden between a pile of stones dumped at the foot of some hill by a landslide, and a deep ravine overgrown with trees. It was impossible to see what they were doing there, not only from the Weasleys' house, but even standing very close - it was such a windfall and densely overgrown place!
But that's the thing, this mini-forest was overgrown only along the perimeter, from the side of that ravine through which it could be entered. Without knowing the way and secret paths that the twins either found or made, it was extremely difficult to get into the grove from the side of the country road. On the other side, this forest belt, as already mentioned, was blocked by a heap of twisted roots and piles of boulders left after the landslide.
Harry walked confidently and hardly looked at his feet: the ability to see in the dark and the foresight of small events gave him the opportunity for this. In the backpack that he had requisitioned from Mr. Weasley's garage, six garden gnomes, which he had previously Confunded, were sluggishly scurrying about.
"It won't work ," the Smarty suddenly said without warning, when Potter was already finishing drawing the ritual figure on the ground. Harry stumbled in surprise, but the Tzeentchite nevertheless deigned to explain: "You can't just go and summon a demon, even with victims from conditionally intelligent creatures. More precisely, you can ," he chuckled. "But what's the point of that?"
"What our Smarty Means ," sighed Sweety, "is that even if you manage to summon the demonette..."
"Not if, but when ," Smart Guy corrected him.
"Well, yes, it would be stupid to doubt our little Garry's talents ," the Slaaneshi chuckled, causing Harry to blush and put his hands on his hips proudly. "The point is that summoning a demon, especially a lower one, is quite easy. It's hard to hold onto it!"
"Pfft! Spill blood for Khorne and call in a couple of bloodletters!" - "advised" Ruffnut. "Now here is someone who will provide himself with the energy to stay in reality - unlike the pampered slugs from the kingdom of the Thirsty Bitch!"
"They'll probably cause us trouble ," Sweet Tooth snapped.
"In any case ," Smarty interrupted the growing squabble once again, "in order for a daemon to remain outside the Immaterium for a long time, it must be constantly supported. An anchor constantly charged with energy is needed, or a full-fledged warp rift. This applies even to small daemons."
Harry spent some time laying out the ingredients he had stored and pulling out the stunned gnomes, silently considering the information he had received. Then he asked:
- And Snot?...
"He has his own altar, my boy ," boomed Dobryak, who had been silent until then. "Reverend Andy and his flock conduct services in the name of Nurgle with dignity, and even created a full-fledged altar. And so, as long as they continue in the same spirit, the little Nurgling will get the opportunity to be in reality. And then, look, the breach in the warp near the altar will stabilize ," he smacked his lips contentedly, apparently grinning, "and this world will become a permanent refuge for Snot."
"It's a shame," Harry sighed. And he was dreaming…
"Oh, don't worry!" Sweet Tooth chuckled in his head. "Very soon, if my calculations are correct, Slaanesh will also have an altar in this world and we will be able to summon whomever and as much as we want!"
"For now, you can simply make sacrifices to the Gods to acquire new Gifts ," the Smart One said ingratiatingly. "The Great Ether itself is your ally – so take advantage of His favor!"
Harry nodded in response and held out his palms in front of him, holding his dagger.
In general, if you don't nitpick, the length of this blade could already claim to be a very short sword. There was little left of the previous knife.
Once upon a time, this dagger was as long as, God willing, an adult man's palm - not counting the handle - with a standard one-sided sharpening and special serrations on the back. The steel is also the usual one for such knives, with a matte finish. Apparently blued, Harry didn't understand this. The handle is yellowish bone with a silver decoration at the end in the form of a bird's head. In general, although beautiful and quite expensive, it is a completely ordinary Muggle thing.
Now the blade was almost a foot and a half long, the bluing - if that was what it was - had turned into a strange crimson coating. If you looked away slightly, it seemed as if this coating was flowing and changing, that monstrous signs, tentacles and even faces appeared and disappeared on it, and a ghostly crimson smoke curled along the cutting edge. But if you looked back at the blade, it was almost an ordinary blade again. Almost.
The shape was much the same as before - straight, slightly curved at the end, with serrations on the back. The tip of the blade was beginning to take on a crescent shape, like a scimitar, but Harry realized it was not yet fully formed. The bone of the handle was streaked with red, as if it had just been taken from a still-living, bleeding body. The silver head of the bird had acquired curved horns, teeth in a gaping beak, and two scarlet ruby eyes that, like the blade, exuded an otherworldly smoke.
And the blade also sang periodically !
Probably, an ordinary person or even a trained magician would have started to go crazy, having barely listened to this "singing". But not Harry, who, having closed his eyes, listened with pleasure to this creepy and sticky whisper. It was Chaos itself speaking to him through his dagger!
- What is this? - the boy was surprised when he heard separate sounds in the otherworldly whisper. Quite distinguishable, bright "voices" of individual souls! And these were not the usual spirits-advisers.
...It hurts... How it hurts!... The fur is melting... - several voices meowed shrilly, very similar to cats.
...Mommy, mommy, where are you?!... It hurts so much, it's so bad... Mommy, take me away from here!... - another voice bleated thinly, pulsating with unbearable pain inside the dagger.
The third voice howled incessantly, occasionally breaking into mad laughter and intricate curses.
"This dagger... More precisely, a short sword ," the Smart Guy chuckled, explaining. "It holds all the souls whose lives it cut short. They are forced to languish forever inside this artifact - until it is destroyed."
"Yeah," Harry nodded to himself, listening to the cries and moans of his victims again and again. "A few kneazles, that junkie, the unicorn foal in the Forbidden Forest… But wait," the boy shook himself. "I dedicated the last two to Khorne and Slaanesh – shouldn't their souls go to them?"
"Yes and no," the Tzeentch replied in his familiar manner. "Some of their spiritual power did indeed go to the Gods. But the souls you tore from their bodies, the very essence of sacrifices - they belong to you! Caged in your weapons - they will remain your captives, to be used one day."
"Trophies!" growled Ruffnut. "They all lost the fight for survival - and you won! Their destiny is to become your trophies! Vae Victus! Woe to the vanquished!"
Harry nodded again. The Chaos Gods spoke clearly now.
Having taken all the garden gnomes out onto the eight-pointed star drawn directly on the ground, the boy thought for a moment... and added to the symbols that alternated between its rays, the symbols of Khorne, Nurgle and Tzeentch, in addition to the already existing symbol of Slaanesh. However, the latter was still the largest and was located in the very center - but thus the ritual could no longer be called purely Slaaneshi, although She-Who-Thirsts was the first to be famous in it. They simply glorified her through Chaos Undivided...
"It could have been worse ," chuckled Sweet Tooth two days later, when Harry and the Weasleys went out to London to do some shopping for school.
"It would have been worth leaving everything as it is ," Dobryak shook his head disapprovingly. "The teeth themselves would have taken the necessary shape under the influence of the entropy of Chaos and simply nature itself. Nothing would have to be done - just wait - and they would have exuded poison no worse than the current ones..."
"What do you know!" the Slaaneshi snorted in response, while Harry tried to simultaneously answer the questions of those around him and keep his mouth as closed as possible. "Of course, if the teeth rot, especially under the influence of entropy, they will also ooze poison. But it will look... ugh, disgusting!" the demon seemed to shudder.
"The main abomination here is you!" growled Zabiyaka. "What kind of shit is this? What kind of disgusting hackwork is this?! You can't tear anyone apart with those fangs, or bite anything off properly!"
And they were discussing a new gift from the Chaos Gods - in this case, as Harry realized, specifically Slaanesh. Snake fangs!
Thin, long, when extended they took up almost the entire mouth of the boy when he opened it wide. And he could open it very wide now - this ability came with fangs.
Of course, the fangs could retract into the upper jaw: where Potter's sinuses were located, now filled not with snot, but with pink-purple poison. But Harry still had very little control over his new mutation, and therefore tried to simply open his mouth as little as possible, fearing exposure.
But overall, the boy liked the new acquisition, especially the poison. As he and Sweet Tooth had already found out through experience, this substance in different concentrations could serve as completely different drugs: a light narcotic, an aphrodisiac, a love potion, and actually a deadly poison.
True, Zabiyaka didn't like this mutation - he would have preferred something like the teeth of a large predator or boar's tusks. Dobryak grumbled, but was basically indifferent, and Smarty was completely unclear what he thought.
And Potter also clearly caught the waves of surprise and even indignation coming from his fifth companion - the one sitting in the scar - at the boy's snake fangs. But against the background of other problems, especially those related to the fangs themselves, this news was completely insignificant. Well, except that Harry once again reminded himself to talk to Smarty about the strange scar and its occupant.
Diagon Alley greeted them with much more activity than Harry remembered from the last time. Of course, he could be wrong, but his intuition, coupled with his incredible memory, told him that something was wrong!
Not "not like that" as in a case of danger, but "not like that" in the sense of "not like usual." And very soon it dawned on Harry!
"Exactly! Mrs. Weasley planned her shopping for this day specifically!" Harry mentally slapped himself on the forehead, looking at the crowd outside Flourish and Blotts. Everyone was craning their necks to see what was inside, and the excitement hanging there was so sippable. "That what's his name is… the author of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks is speaking there today."
"Gilderoy Lockhart ," sang Sweet Tooth. "By the way, he's quite the writer!"
"You're a scribbler!" the Khorne daemon spat furiously at this. "Do you really believe that all that nonsense he scribbled in his trashy little books is true?!"
"Of course not ," whispered the Smart Guy's voice. "He's clearly a coward and a liar - but a talented liar!" he drawled contentedly. "Very, very talented!"
"A fisherman sees another fisherman from afar!" Zabiyaka gnashed his teeth and fell silent.
Meanwhile, they had the opportunity to go inside the store - as it turned out, a huge line and crowd had gathered directly at the table where the blond Lockhart was signing autographs.
"Oh, yes!" Smart Guy moaned with pleasure, almost parodying Sweet Tooth. "I can feel it..."
"Add 'inside yourself' and the picture will be complete, a-ha-ha!" the Slaaneshi laughed.
"Vanity is just pouring out of him!" - the Tzeentch continued to "sniff", ignoring the sneering Sweet Tooth. "Such an inflated ego, such a huge self-admiration! A soul-devouring thirst for cheap fame and glory! Sweet nectar..."
"Oh, you're right about that!" Sweet Tooth agreed. "Such a handsome man, knows how to write beautiful words, and polite too ," this phrase was accompanied by a scene where Gilderoy, whom they were watching from the far corner of the trading floor, delicately kissed the air above the hand of some elderly lady, which made her blush. "But at the same time a damn weak magician ," the Slaaneshi also "sniffed" and delivered his verdict. "Surely his origin and wealth are not shining either - such injustice! No wonder he started looking for a way to quench his thirst... in another way."
Flourish and Blotts was a tall, rectangular room lined with bookshelves, grouped by subject and subject. To one side of the entrance was a cash desk, and opposite was a long table, behind which Gilderoy Lockhart sat, surrounded by smiling, winking portraits of himself. At second-floor level, an open gallery ran along the walls, also lined with bookshelves, and that was where Harry settled down, watching the crowd below from a safe distance.
"Admiring it, Potter?" someone nearby drawled. Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy, also lazily leaning against the gallery railing to his left.
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I wonder," he chuckled, "do all these women," he gestured around the room, "really believe all that crap that's written in his books?"
"Pff!" Malfoy sneered. "Father says that all these old sluts aren't here because they believe or don't believe. They just have no chance with normal men, so they melt into puddles in front of windbags like Lockhart," he snorted.
Harry understood that Draco himself did not quite understand the meaning of the quoted phrase, but did not miss the opportunity to say something with a smart look. Potter himself would not have understood the meaning - but, instructed by Sweet Tooth, he nevertheless understood what Malfoy Sr. meant.
By the way...
"By the way, how did the conversation with your father go?" Harry asked a little more quietly, tracking the surrounding space with all his senses. What was interesting was that his fangs were no longer bothering him at all.
- Well... so, - Malfoy grimaced, scratching his lower back and arse for some reason. It was clear that the "conversation" was not particularly constructive. - He couldn't forbid me from communicating with Weasley. More precisely, I simply turned everything in such a way that this was the cost of communicating with you. On my word of honor that in the end I would drag you into "proper society," - Draco snorted, grimacing again. - But that's still bread, - the blond grinned sadly. - At first, he didn't want to listen to anything at all.
Potter nodded understandingly, without asking for details. It was obvious: Lucius Malfoy was a real domestic tyrant. And most likely, Draco got it in the neck first! And only then did a normal constructive dialogue take place.
"But surprisingly, he approved of the passion for chess," Malfoy suddenly chuckled. "He even promised to sponsor a trip for a group of Hogwarts students to a pan-European wizarding chess tournament. It will be held in France in the spring," he explained.
"A group?" Harry chuckled. "Does that mean you and Ron are going to start a chess club?"
"Exactly," Draco answered simply.
"But you wanted to start playing Quidditch? With me!" Harry narrowed his eyes slyly, sticking out the tip of his tongue and lowering his Love Stare slightly.
- I... er... Yes! - Malfoy immediately went red in spots, running his eyes around the room so as not to meet the eyes of Mordred's Potter. - Well, I... think... I can... Oh, look, Weasley's father is fighting with mine! - Draco redirected the attention of his interlocutor, causing annoyance and a grin at the same time in Harry.
Malfoy was still Malfoy. Even when he was out of sorts, he was able to turn any conversation into the direction he chose. It was truly amazing! Potter realized once again that he had made the right choice of friends.
Meanwhile, down below, the action was really raging. Or a brawl, as Ruffnut happily called it. At first, it was just a heated squabble: Arthur Weasley said something to Lucius, Malfoy Sr. haughtily muttered something contemptuous in response - Harry could even roughly imagine what exactly they said to each other. Anyway, one word led to another, and now the father of the red-haired family, in a fit of emotion, pushes the tall blond. And in response, he treats Weasley to his shoulder with his cane. The fight has begun!
- Uh... - a surprised voice was heard next to them. - I don't even know: should I join in or try to separate them?
The speaker turned out to be none other than Ron Weasley, watching the battle unfold with wide eyes and scratching the back of his head.
"Go on, Weasley. With a song, I think that's what the Muggles say?" Draco snorted in response. "But without me! Oh," he said, looking somewhere towards the entrance to the store, and pushed off the railing, straightening up. "I think I'll go find Mum. There's a patrol from the M.D. soon - I need to warn her about getting Dad out of this... incident.
"Already?" Harry asked, looking at where Draco was looking. He saw Hermione Granger, who had just entered the store in the company of a man and woman dressed in Muggle clothes - apparently her parents. "Oh," he said understandingly.
"Exactly," Draco grinned in response. "I have nothing against this particular gr… Granger," he corrected himself at the last moment. "But if Father sees me in the company of not only the Weasleys, but hers as well, I'm afraid you won't see me at Hogwarts anymore."
"More like in a coffin," Ron grimaced sadly.
- You get it, Weasley. Well, I'm off, - and Draco Malfoy quickly rushed off somewhere along the gallery. Their friend was already climbing up to the two Gryffindors.
"Hi, guys!" Hermione greeted her friends cheerfully, hugging them both in turn. "I've got a ton of news!..."
She glanced briefly at Harry and winked. He smiled back.
It was clear that there was a lot of other, much more important news than she was about to tell them now. The kind of news that was not usually shared out loud.
Smiling again, Harry joined the general conversation. It felt like the boring holidays were ending right now - the moment he was reunited with his friends in the wizarding world and began to discuss truly important things!
It was probably abnormal for children his age to think like that, but Harry Potter was actually glad that the holiday was over and it would soon be time to go to school. Despite the fact that there was no exhausting homework, no vile attacks from Snape and no total control from all sides, he liked school much more than at his aunt and uncle's house.
And even then: there was so much interesting stuff there!
For example, Harry knew for sure that the Mirror of Erised with the Philosopher's Stone dissolved in it - or the Soul Stone, as the four spirits called it - was still in the castle.
That he hadn't explored even a quarter of the secret passages in Hogwarts - and their secrets, of course. Not to mention the catacombs, of which he had only discovered the first level!
And of course, he wanted to get into the kitchen. The home of the Hogwarts house elves attracted him like an unseen fruit tree - with the number of sweet fruits that you can pick and eat! And no, he was not talking about the food that the elves cook. But about the elves themselves.
He has one slave. The second house elf is at his disposal...
Harry frowned. Something had to be done about the second one urgently. Because it was impossible to keep him in someone else's shed forever - Quinkie would soon be forced to permanently settle in Hogwarts, after all, the school year was coming up! She wouldn't be able to look after him.
A sly smile involuntarily spread across the boy's face, surprising Hermione who noticed it. He had an idea of how to use the half-mad Dobby in his plans. He would still turn to the warp and find the best option - but the general plan was already there.
After all, Smart Guy has repeated many times: Chaos will give answers to all questions...
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