Harry truly gathered himself so quickly that Professor Flitwick (under the guise familiar to the Dursleys of an unremarkable but quite solid and trustworthy blond wizard) and the already tired Hermione didn't even have time to finish the tea offered by polite Petunia. Mrs. Dursley looked with interest at the girl her nephew studies with, asked her about her family, about school and was quite satisfied with the answers. Well, a completely normal child!
It seems she's really smart, well-mannered, in short—suitable company for the boy. The only question is whether this delicate flower can stand up for herself? Although that's completely not her business... Seems like their professor should have his head aching about safety. Fortunately the children have two teachers who aren't going to give them up to offense...
It's just a shame the girl is growing up alone. She could use a sister... or a little brother. Better an older one, of course... Yeah. What strange thoughts are starting to visit her. Probably should go to Manchester next weekend. But her son, her son! He can't take his eyes off this Granger. And he's silent. Her Dudleykins! No way, all they need is boys' rivalry. And the girl's a witch too. She stubbornly pressed her lips together. No one knew and would never know why Petunia once had a terrible falling out with her younger sister... Rest in peace. But at least Severus is alive. And by the way, he thought to apologize for his behavior back then, in childhood. They'll look after her boy. And thank God.
Dudley Dursley was surprised and... it seems, charmed. Especially by those eyes... His cousin sure is lucky! He sighed and shoved a whole eclair in his mouth as moral compensation, pushing the dish to the guests. His mood somehow got ruined. Maybe because this amazing summer ended? And even the fact that he'd still have such a wonderful Sirius didn't cheer him much: tomorrow he himself had to leave. True, they have more holidays, they let them go for celebrations too, and if anything, they can even pick him up on weekends. His cousin wasn't so lucky here: no TV, no proper radio—nothing. Although the company he has at school is probably cool.
This girl told about France so interestingly that Dudley, who hadn't squeezed out more than a couple of polite phrases, promised himself he'd convince his parents to go there next year. And studying... Well, he'll try his hardest to earn such a vacation. After all, how great it would be if he also visited Paris! There'd be something to discuss with Hermione. A name as unusual as she is... And her parents are normal, like his. How could such a thing happen?
Mrs. Dursley had no trouble by the way (or rather, very unfortunately) calling the Grangers and checking whether they really didn't mind Harry going to them. Hermione tensed up, but quickly realized she could trust her mother. "Need to thank her as soon as we arrive," she thought.
So as soon as Flitwick, having finally finished his tea and said plenty of well-deserved compliments to the mistress of the house, politely said goodbye to the Dursleys and Apparated them to the Grangers' house, Hermione immediately rushed to hug her mother, who whispered something to her. The girl smiled, inviting her friend into the house, and the professor, citing business, took his leave.
The kids demolished dinner at Irish dance tempo, as if competing who'd finish first.
And then Harry and Hermione, ignoring the bedroom and guest room where only Potter's suitcase ended up spending the night, settled in the library, dragging a pile of pillows, a small lamp, a couple of blankets and quilts, one of which was immediately occupied by the "sweet kitty." The ginger bandit, looking like seven kilograms at least, gifted Harry with an attentive squint.
The wise parents pretended this was as it should be, and having heard from around the corner the sincere: "Your parents are so awesome! They understand everything!" and the proud: "Yes" from her daughter, Mrs. Granger even blushed slightly, but didn't leave her observation post just in case for another ten minutes. And only then went to the bedroom with a calm soul. It turned out Dan was right. The children simply needed to talk.
***
And they, despite their tiredness, lay on the carpet and talked, talked...
About the headmaster—what he wanted from them was interesting to both. Only they couldn't come to any conclusion. They agreed that before each conversation with him they'd pour out memories for each other—Harry finally taught his friend how to do it. Though only theoretically for now: using a wand was excluded, and there were no suitable vials.
Turns out only crystal would do, meaning lead glass darkened to semi-transparency by a special potion, not just any bottle from cream or shampoo. Although... Harry looked closely at what his friend had dug out of the bathroom, and selected several interesting specimens hoping they might interest his professor. He now looked at many things from this point of view...
Hermione finally told how the headmaster himself back in first year advised her to make friends with Harry and Ron and told her how to do it properly. In which cases she should stay silent (but she couldn't manage for a long time), and when to offer her help (worked out even worse).
Harry laughed, but then... the laughter stuck in his throat, and he looked at his friend with horror.
"Listen... This is of course an idiotic thought, but what if the troll ended up there not by accident?"
"But that's... Hermione paled. "It could have easily killed me! No, Harry, it can't be... The headmaster can't contribute to mortal danger for students, can he?"
"Really? You know, I'm not so sure about that anymore. Why then, tell me, his announcement about the third floor, right after our sorting?"
"Well, he warned... that it's forbidden."
"Did it help?" Harry sarcastically raised an eyebrow.
"Ugh, just like Snape," Hermione laughed. "Don't do that anymore, please."
"Why? Does it look bad?"
"On the contrary, good... Even too good! I don't know... I'm still a bit afraid of him. I respect him very much, I've been reading his articles in 'Potions Herald.' He's a genius, Harry... But I'm afraid."
"Of Snape? I promise to introduce you to him better. He's really amazing."
Hermione blushed slightly, moving a thick notebook toward him:
"Here, look... I also started writing questions, like you..."
"Wait, let's save that for the train. Otherwise we really won't get enough sleep. What's our main thing? I mean, who? The main thing is our friends, right?"
And they set about discussing Ron Weasley and how they'd now have to communicate with him.
"You know, I don't even know how to predict his reactions. Sometimes he's normal, and sometimes, you're absolutely right, here he thinks, and here not at all. So what will we do when he's 'not thinking'? Most importantly, recognize it in time..."
Hermione sighed heavily.
"And who's Obliviating him and why?.. Maybe tell him?"
"He'll never believe it. Not even me. He's stubborn as... as..."
"As a ram. Let's just leave when he gets stubborn?"
"And when he starts yelling?"
"..."
The pause dragged on.
"Wait, what if we whisper to each other about something?"
"He'll get angry. Ah, well and get distracted, you're right. And what to do if one of us ends up alone with him?"
"I wouldn't want to..."
"Me neither, but it'll definitely happen to me, at least in the bedroom or washroom."
"You can bury yourself in a textbook or start yawning..."
"Oh, I'll ask him about lessons!"
"Hee-hee. And how will you explain to him that they've become so important to you that even Quidditch took second place?"
"By saying the Head of House won't let me go to practices if anything."
"She... McGonagall didn't tell you anything about this, did she? She couldn't have!"
"Nothing. She will."
"How are you going to achieve that?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"How do you feel about purely poetic exaggerations?"
"Poeti..." Hermione moved her lips puzzled, but quickly understood and laughed. "Oh, Harry! To think up such a name for pure lies!"
"You can't lie to friends," Harry said unexpectedly seriously. "But I see no way out."
"So we'll purely poetically exaggerate..."
"How great... She's with me. She... also changed. Is such a thing really possible in just a few days?"
He didn't realize then that any mental implants, like many charms, need updating. But since they're only needed at Hogwarts—why waste power when the pawn is resting in the Muggle world... The chance that the girl would meet someone from wizards there, at home, was negligible, so the Great Puppeteer decided to neglect it.
Hermione was writing out questions in her notebook, and Harry continued.
"Ask about clothes... on the train. Let him tell."
"About chess and logic, which he doesn't apply in ordinary life at all..."
"You also ask Ginny about the embroideries."
"Definitely. If they're together. Here, I already wrote earlier..."
"About choosing subjects."
"Exactly, we can talk all the way to Hogwarts about this."
"Only Ron will fall asleep, hee-hee. Bet he'll choose what's easier?"
"What did you choose?"
His friend sighed heavily.
"I want everything..."
"And what do you want to become after school?"
"I don't know. I don't know at all."
"Write a question for the Head of House, let her tell about wizarding professions. Otherwise it's really unclear, we'll finish school, and where then? Your favorite subjects are Charms and Transfiguration?"
"And also Arithmancy and Runes!"
"Why not do that then?"
"But... what about the rest?"
"You're not some fool, can't you figure it out from books? And then write out questions—and to the professors. In life you need to properly choose the main thing. Otherwise you risk remaining a comprehensively educated specialist without work. Like... like my godfather. But you don't have a bank account, right? Will you sit on your parents' neck? Or look for a rich husband?"
"Harry, how... how can you say such things?!"
"Do you see other options?"
"I don't see any at all," the girl drooped.
"You're smart and talented... If charms or transfiguration, then you can either make amulets or, for example, things with space expansion charms. Like our new trunks."
"Make such things myself?.. I want to! Only I can't sit on this my whole life, Harry."
"There's, I heard, a Department of Mysteries, I think it's called, at the Ministry. There seem to be the most talented wizards. And also various research. Professor Flitwick told me."
"And he offered me an apprenticeship!"
"And you're doubting?"
"Yes... no, sort of. I just... I thought maybe your teacher will also take me..."
"You're serious? That would be cool!"
"But I... It seems to me refusing is just not nice. They won't offer again. And in two years I've never once heard of someone becoming someone's apprentice."
"Were you listening carefully?"
"Well... no, probably. You're right, there might be surprises."
"How about we try both together? I'll ask Snape for you, and you ask Flitwick for me?"
"The professors... okay, it comes out too long. Will we have time?"
"Let the professors themselves decide. Saturday—potions, Sunday—charms. Or the other way around."
"And when should they rest from us? They probably have their own business too?"
"Listen, you're right. I think I got carried away..." Harry even blushed. He wanted to fall through the earth: to behave as if someone owes him something. Oh, shame. He remembered the last days and was horrified—he went to his Mentor like to his own home! As if he there... oh. Damn. Need to apologize or something. And not intrude unnecessarily. But how?
"Harry, have you already chosen subjects for yourself?"
"You'll laugh, but almost the same as you said, only also potions."
"Ah, of course, I'll also take potions, definitely!"
"So we'll study together. Cool, right..."
"A-a-aha..." Hermione covered her mouth with her palm.
"Let's sleep, you're yawning like... a-o-u... Like me!" Harry started snoring as soon as his head touched the pillow. And indeed, the day had been quite eventful.
***
In the morning as soon as the kids got ready and Mr. Granger rolled the car out of the garage, Professor Snape appeared near the gate. Exactly the same as at school, black, stern, so that Harry was slightly taken aback and began to apologize, making the potions master snort to hide a smile.
"Let this be the last time, Mr. Potter," he pronounced strictly and coldly, and saw how the green eyes became almost unrealistically round and...
"Harry, stop it, we don't need our warm relations to become noticeable at school. Do you want to hand me over to the Lord?"
The boy gasped. To repeat what happened at school before, he, it turns out, still wasn't ready. Though he knew.
"Told the headmaster... didn't believe. Well, let him deal with it now," Snape decided to himself.
"I... I won't let you down!"
Harry clenched his fists, and his eyes immediately became dry and even a bit angry.
"And that's already better. Imagine that we're on stage and our lives depend on the quality of the performance, and everything will be simpler."
And receiving a distrustful and angry look from under his brows, he ruffled the boy's hair.
"That's it, excellent, Potter. And no apologies."
Despite the praise, ice could be felt in the Mentor's voice, which scratched, it seemed, the very soul. Summer ended. Completely ended. Devil.
"Until detention, Harry," the professor added in his normal voice. "I believe in you."
So no one had to worry about the road, and the professor Apparated Harry together with Hermione and baggage reduced ten times directly to platform 9¾, surprisingly completely empty. Nothing and no one except the locomotive and its engineer. Snape, barely shoving them into the carriage, evaporated as if he hadn't been there.
"Let's take a compartment and lock ourselves in? Then we can sleep some more, and when we wake up, sit with our notebooks!"
And they quickly climbed into the nearest compartment, barricading the door with a banal Muggle chain with a lock that Hermione's father used to lock his suitcase during travel.
"The best charms!" the girl giggled, scrambling the cipher on the lock.
"And no 'Finite,'" Harry showed her a thumbs up, settling on his bench opposite her.