Sitting in a small cage reeking from all corners of a dirty sock was disgusting. Sleeping and eating almost in the same place where he'd recently defecated, after a single carelessly cast cleaning spell by the owner, was even worse. And there was absolutely no room to move, at this rate he'd soon forget how to run. And fast paws were his guarantee of survival!
If he were simply a rat, Peter would think only of how to run away. But since he was also a human, though this human had already turned into not even a shadow—into an echo of what had once been inherent to Peter Pettigrew, he still thought about where to run.
Stay a familiar, changing owners? Not an option, at school that scumbag Weasley-six would quickly find him, may he sniff his own socks for life! Settle among the castle rats? He's not wild, he's a domestic rat... They're unlikely to accept him, and might even gnaw him to death. Though if he manages to arrive not empty-pawed, perhaps nothing terrible will happen. Rats are smart.
But this centuries-old dirt in the corners, cold hard stones, eternal search for food... No, need to think of something else. Maybe the Shrieking Shack? From there are many passages to places where there's both food and information. Decided. The rat held its breath and tried to bite through the transfigured bar... The taste of an old Weasley sock induced vomiting almost immediately.
"Are you sick or something, Scabbers?"
Oh, if only he could answer this disgusting, self-absorbed, inattentive brat! He wouldn't trust such a boy with even an ordinary rat. Only he, Peter, with his desire to survive no matter what, his mind and resourcefulness, could stay alive. Percy was another matter. Of course, he was indifferent to him, but he never forgot to feed, change the water and toilet, clean the house, often gave something tasty and never locked him up! Merlin, why?
***
Out of old habit, Ron Weasley began looking for the cause of his pet's illness in anything but his own behavior. Especially since his gaze soon fell on Hermione, who had just come down to the common room before breakfast. He met her with an angry rebuke, which the girl initially simply didn't understand. And when she understood, she didn't immediately regain the power of speech from indignation. But Harry wasn't thinking of losing it, from his perspective everything was simple. So he answered the ginger friend's strange claims.
"Since when did your rat become so sensitive? Crookshanks affected her through a corridor, staircase and several walls? Maybe he's a psychic, not a cat? Hermione, what do you think?"
"Psychic... who?" Ron tried to clarify.
"Psychic. It's..."
A few minutes into the lecture Ron wilted and gave up. But the others... Around the golden trio other faculty students who hadn't yet left for the dining hall began to gradually gather.
"Muggles have such abilities? Really?" Angelina Johnson was surprised.
"Hard to say actually," Hermione answered. "Some people can, for example, find a person by photograph, say what's with them, where they are. But verification of this information is often unsuccessful. Some can heal by laying on hands, weaken or completely remove pain. In general, there's a lot, I'll tell you of course if you want, but right now I really want breakfast, shall we go?"
***
A crowd of Gryffindors piling in for breakfast was a usual sight. It was surprising to see Harry and Hermione in the center of it, actively communicating with classmates, and this clearly pleased both. Snape exchanged an understanding glance with Flitwick and looked suspiciously at Draco. An elegant and terribly important Malfoy owl had just delivered a rather large package to his ward, which the boy for some reason wasn't particularly happy about.
"What else has Lucius planned?" thought Snape and decided to contact his "friend." His decision strengthened as soon as he saw how at the end of breakfast Draco approached Granger and handed over this same package... And she seemed to thank him. "More than strange. Good thing the headmaster already left." Snape listened to what they were saying at his house table—there must be a reaction!
"I just got tired of looking at this," he heard Draco's remark in response to Zabini's question about what exactly was happening. "Father approved."
"Ah, well if father..."
"You might as well invite her to visit..."
"If my parents say so, I'll invite her."
"Dra-aco..." Parkinson drawled. "She's..."
"An uneducated strong witch," the boy interrupted. "Admit it, it's much calmer if she becomes educated. And also somewhat obligated."
"Oh, Malfoy, you're finally starting to behave like an heir! Approved," Nott nodded. "And I was already thinking about how to bring her closer. For the family, such helpers are always welcome at court."
"Take a look at the Hufflepuffs, there seems to be someone else left there."
"There's no one else like Granger..."
"Your truth."
The Slytherins, occupied with conversation, decorously left the hall. Snape moved after them: he didn't have a first lesson, but then... It spun and went so that he almost forgot about the unusually sociable Potter and Granger talking with Malfoy, but he'd need to warn the girl about the Malfoys' plans. So before class he scribbled a couple of lines in his notebook to Potter and Flitwick.
***
For the first week, third-years could attend all subjects: someone wrote an application to the board of trustees stating that their child didn't want to choose blindly, the rest supported them, and the headmaster ordered introductory classes on all subjects for everyone. So Gryffindors' first lesson turned out to be Divination.
Due to Hermione's habit of doing everything ahead of time, she and Harry ended up at the classroom earlier than everyone else.
"Whoa, co-ool!" Potter grabbed a step of the rope ladder and tugged a bit. "If the professor is so athletic, I'll probably sign up too!"
"I don't see anything good," his friend answered, looking with displeasure at the strange obstacle. "It already seems to me I don't want to go here at all."
"Maybe it's a way to weed out the unnecessary? Whoever couldn't climb has nothing to do here?"
"How can the ability to climb a rope be connected to divination, can you explain?"
"Why are you angry? Ah, you're in a skirt..." Harry slapped himself on the forehead. "So make pants out of it, it's not a problem!"
"Harry, you're a genius. Turn away..."
The school skirt quickly acquired the necessary bridge of the same fabric, and the girl approached the ladder.
"Let me hold the bottom, it'll be easier," Harry suggested, pressing the lower rung with his foot. "Dudley and I climbed a tree to the headquarters on one just like this over the summer, I know how."
Soon they were already sitting on soft poufs in a semi-dark room smelling of some incense. They didn't see the professor yet, apparently she hadn't come yet.
"It's not bad here, cozy. But the smell," Hermione wrinkled her nose. "If only they'd air it out a bit. Here probably if you just sit for an hour, you can prophesy a lot."
Harry chuckled in response, sneezed and headed to the nearest window.
Before he could take a third step, someone climbing out of a trapdoor in the floor grabbed his leg.
"A-a-ah!" the boy lost his balance and fell, and the grabber tumbled back down the hatch.
Cursing came from below.
Harry shook his bare foot and rushed down to rescue his own boot, and at the same time his classmates.
Having descended, he quickly explained how to hold the ladder. Hermione saw how first Seamus Finnigan climbed out, followed by Harry grumbling at him. Turned out it was Seamus who pulled his leg. The class gradually filled with children, someone sneezed, coughed, finally Dean Thomas threw open the window.
Immediately Professor Trelawney appeared in a very strange way: some pile of rags stirred in the corner, and it turned out to be the teacher. On many faces there was still polite bewilderment...
"Colorful lady," Hermione whispered, finding herself at a table with Ron and Harry. "Probably a hippie."
"Or totally a freak... Shh, quiet. Well, what difference does it make what she's wearing if she knows something and can teach. Let's see."
The professor, resembling a mad dragonfly due to huge glasses with convex lenses (Harry immediately began to sympathize with her), went to the window and closed it. And in a strange voice, sometimes with howls, began to broadcast about divination as such, about the inner eye, about "special predisposition," until finally she moved on to pouring tea. Which, by the way, Harry appreciated. Not bad tea.
They sipped from cups, and Ron mainly leaned on sweets.
"Drink, buddy," Harry whispered to him, having inconspicuously set up a "dome of silence." A wand in the sleeve really is a wonderful idea.
"Thanks, I'm drinking. What?" he blinked with thick ginger lashes.
"Don't eat so much sweet stuff, your butt will stick together..."
"I'm diluting it... If only all lessons were like this!"
"Then it'll definitely stick," Hermione already snorted. "No tea will help."
A barely audible "Finite"—and they heard a prophecy about a February cold, and when in the silence rang out a dramatic "And at Easter one of us will leave us forever...", Harry couldn't resist again, whispering:
"Someone's transferring? I heard the Patils were talking about a new school in... Kulu, I think? Is it really true? And she somehow found out?"
He looked admiringly at Trelawney, who had already opened her mouth to make a remark.
"I would ask you to refrain from comments, the inner eye doesn't tolerate fuss..."
"Oh, sorry, professor, it just slipped out. It's just so interesting!"
Hermione looked at Harry with surprise. Was he serious?
But when the professor literally provoked Neville to break a cup, and then hinted about his grandmother's health, her friend couldn't take it.
"Now that's not nice," he noted. "Grandmothers are rarely healthy due to, um, peculiarities of age, and scaring an impressionable teenager with a loved one's illness is at the very least unpedagogical!"
"Un... pe?.."
"Pe-da-go-gi-cal. You're a professor, Mrs. Trelawney, a pedagogue, you know..."
"Miss," she squeaked in puzzlement.
"Sorry, Miss Trelawney. Pedagogy is the science of the laws of upbringing and education of a person, it studies the patterns of successful transmission of social experience from the older generation to the younger."
"Ah... from older to younger, yes-yes, of course..."
The eyes behind the glass lenses finally defocused.
"Fix the cup?"
"Eh? What are you saying?" Trelawney for some reason jerked aside and nearly fell backwards, stumbling over another pouf. Neville barely managed to support her.
"Thank you... Forgive me, Mr. Longbottom..."
Harry sighed.
"Reparo, Scourgify, Locomotor."
The completely whole cup floated right into Neville's hands.
"Next time fix it yourself, you know how," Harry interrupted the stream of his thanks. "Sorry, professor, but now everything's whole, can we continue? What do we need to do? Look at what the remaining tea leaves look like?"
When the professor, having talked with everyone, cautiously got to their table and saw the Grim in Harry's cup, many children rose from their seats, and Harry hissed through his teeth:
"Well, if he ran away... Oh, I'll twist that dog's tail!"
"What are you saying?" Trelawney was horrified. "How can you! This... this is a terrible creature, a phantom, a harbinger of death. According to legend, everyone who sees the Grim will die the next day!" her voice broke, and Brown and Patil gasped loudly.
"Eh, professor... I just think I know who's hiding behind this... Grim, you say? One terribly nasty and bad mug... You can't imagine how much trouble with him!"
"Trouble?.. With the Grim?" Trelawney was almost on the verge of fainting and hurried to dismiss the class before Harry Potter produced something else. Something absolutely terrible!
Merlin and Morgana, if only he doesn't come anymore... Next to him it seems there was such a nice girl sitting who didn't believe in anything, maybe she can somehow influence him?
Hermione, after they descended, continued to regret the lost time.
"An hour and a half! In this time we could have..."
"Run around the castle once."
"Why?" shocked eyes looked at Harry.
"Why talk about what's already passed and can't be changed?"
"When did you become so smart, Harry?" Ron, who was waiting for them at the transition to the stairs, inquired in puzzlement.
"I told you everything!" Potter bulged honest eyes. "Do you really think that after hanging around half the summer in Snape's laboratory, you can remain a fool?"
"I can't understand why the headmaster punished you so..."
"What's unclear, Ron? Did I study well? But my mom was an excellent student! And my father almost never got low grades."
"This... Snape told you this?"
"Well yes. They studied at the same time."
"Harry, sorry, I'll interrupt. Are you still thinking of continuing Divination? It seems to me today was enough..."
"Still nothing's really clear. But if it turns out the dog really ran away, then I'll probably sign up!"
"Who ran away?"
"Dudley's dog... such a blockhead and really looks like this Grim that was in the cup."
"Muggles have? A Grim?"
"What Grim! Just an English bulldog."
***
In the Transfiguration lesson, Professor McGonagall elegantly went over Divinations as such, and Harry got a reprimand, but picked up:
"Most importantly, it can be quite dangerous for health. Especially when they fumigate pythias with special smoke. You're aware of what narcotics are, right? And they also chew all sorts of crap, also not exactly healthy. And then can't have children. No, these are unfortunate selfless women who sacrifice their health to try to learn someone's future," he summed up philosophically, driving the Transfiguration professor (and not only her) into a slight stupor.
"We won't have to smell this, right, professor?" Hermione asked with concern.
"And won't add anything to tea?" Brown got scared.
"And won't have to chew?"
"Did you feel something in the tea?" McGonagall frowned.
"No-no! But it smelled strongly in the class. The smell was very strange, my head even still hurts a little."
"Mine too!"
"And mine feels like cotton."
The professor clearly felt that the initiative was lost and she wasn't managing the lesson... But what the children were asking about seemed really important. She'll pass it to Dumbledore, let him check...
"There should be a certain ventilation regime in classrooms, right?" Hermione tried to find out. "Everyone should follow it, shouldn't they? All schools have standards..."
"Regime of what? Why?" McGonagall was surprised.
"Strange..." Harry muttered under his breath. "She's been Head of House for how many years?.."
"So the air will be fresh and we'll think better," Hermione explained.
"For this you can get the spell in the standard household charms book in the library."
"Then why isn't it included in the school curriculum?"
"Ask Professor Flitwick. Everyone, stop it, let's start working!"
***
During lunch, Gryffindor third-years ambushed the Charms professor right in the Great Hall. And let him eat only when Hermione nodded, letting everyone know she understood and remembered everything.
"We can come for consultation if needed, right?" Harry asked.
"Of course," the part-goblin smiled. "Official hours for my consultations are five to six p.m. on Wednesdays."
"And if something's very important?"
"Come early to the lesson or stay after."
"Thank you, professor."
And at the Slytherin table at that time they were being watched.
"What's with the Gryffs? Did they decide to start studying or what?" Nott smirked.
"Come on, only Granger studies there... The house can't handle more."
"Look what a crowd's around Flitwick..."
"Blaise, I know you have a 'Listener,' get it out!"
Zabini rummaged in his robe pockets, put the artifact to his ear and listened. And then whispered in surprise:
"It's true. Wonder what they need? Malfoy, maybe you'll ask?"
"Me?"
"Why not, Granger owes you, right?"
Hermione, remembering exactly what animals their biggest friend liked, was sweeping into a bag transfigured by Harry as usual from a handkerchief all the meat scraps that ended up on the table near them.
"You never know," she whispered to her friend.
He nodded understandingly and made another bag. For pies.
"We'll definitely want a snack after the lesson."
***
On the way to the gamekeeper's hut, Malfoy found out a lot of interesting things. And didn't regret at all that he agreed to approach the Gryffs. They described the Divination lesson to him in all colors starting with the rope ladder, poufs, sweets, tea, especially noted that something strange stinks there ("okay, smells strongly, but then the head suspiciously hurts, keep in mind!"), and how everyone's being scared with prophecies. Not at all planning to take this stupid subject, Draco even decided to go once and see...
Ron, who opened his mouth to habitually go wild at Malfoy as soon as he approached, received from his best friends a lot of pleasant things in it: half a piece of roast beef and a whole pie. While he chewed this wealth, Harry was already fully unfolded with his story, and those around quickly stopped caring what color tie the neighbor had. And Hermione added her rather sarcastic comments.
"As if she studied with Snape over the summer," thought Ron, but didn't believe himself.
And Potter told about narcotic trance and its danger so that the Slytherins decided it was much easier not to wait for Malfoy to retell everything, but to listen themselves. As a result, Hagrid had to rub his eyes for a long time: the warring houses mixed and were walking for some reason in a single crowd, listening attentively to someone... Why, it's Harry!
***
The former gamekeeper, now professor, though he hadn't finished school, was so surprised that he even forgot his own excitement. And started talking if only to attract Harry's attention. He, of course, immediately started asking questions, one after another! And what good ones!
Where did hippogriffs come from, do they give birth to young or hatch eggs, do they stay in pairs or flocks... Hagrid knew all this, of course, but couldn't coherently present all the information as a whole. But answering individual questions like this—with great joy!
... Where do they live, do they have shelters... ... Do they molt, and if so, how often... ... Are their feathers used in potion-making... ... What do they eat, and how much food is needed to feed at least one...
"Wow... An expensive pleasure," Ron Weasley whistled when Hagrid answered the last question.
"We have a dozen in our stables," Malfoy didn't hesitate to boast.
Weasley got another pie.
"So you'll show the class today, right, Draco?" Parkinson chirped, stroking the guy's arm.
"Yes, after all Malfoy is an etiquette expert, isn't he?" ...Granger supported. "They have to be bowed to somehow cleverly, an aristocrat should be best at it."
Pansy froze with her mouth open, and Slytherin quietly fainted. The girl had already enlightened the Gryffindors about what she asked Malfoy for, so most reacted calmly to what was happening. Only Harry fed his friend another piece of pie, this time sweet.
"Have you flown already?" Potter addressed Draco, and his eyes were surprised-admiring...
Malfoy swallowed and didn't have time to answer—he simply couldn't say that no one under forty years old was allowed near hippogriffs without special spells and protection. Admit he hadn't flown when they're looking at you like that?! Anything but that.
The gamekeeper continued saying something, but the boy had already decided: come what may, but he'll fly. Today. First!
As in a dream he stepped forward, ahead of Potter by less than a second. Hagrid hesitated...
"Wants to pull out his favorite first? Well, not only Gryffindors are brave!" flashed through the blond head, but in the next minute there were no thoughts left there. At all.
Giant paws with claws longer than his palm left deep furrows in the ground. The huge creature made a screech that seemed questioning to him. Draco raised his gaze and met amber-yellow piercing eyes looking directly at him... no, directly into him. Into the very essence... The huge beak approached, and he could examine its sharp edge. Power emanated from the animal so that goosebumps ran down his spine, but there was nowhere to retreat. Too late. There was noise in his ears.
Only out of the corner of his eye he noticed how attentively the others were watching him.
He's an aristocrat. He knows how to bow without disgracing himself... And he'll show them!
Draco straightened up and, continuing to look into the hippogriff's eyes, made a polite, elegant and dignified bow. After a pause that seemed to last an eternity, the bird head slowly inclined.
His hand reached for the bird head on its own... Draco slowly touched the powerful deadly beak. It turned out to be surprisingly pleasant to the touch: warm and smooth. The hippogriff bent a little lower, allowing him to sort through feathers at the base of the beak, and made a quiet soft screech. Only then did everyone breathe out.
"Wow... Beauty," Malfoy barely audibly whispered, smoothing white feathers.
"Well done," the stunned Hagrid mouthed. Least of all did he expect such initiative from Slytherins, especially from Draco Malfoy.
"For Gryffindor to... go after Malfoy?!" the ginger boy rushed forward, trying to push away his enemy.
"Ron, no!"
"Weasley, back!"
"A-a-ah!"
Hagrid hung on the chain to which the dangerous beast was fastened, and Draco had no choice but to hang on the clawed paw that had already struck one blow at Weasley. Fortunately he'd already rolled back a couple of meters and was out of reach. The hippogriff carefully lowered its paw, giving Malfoy the opportunity to calmly stand in place. The half-giant opened his mouth... and quickly closed it with both hands.
"Ron, how are you?" Harry grabbed his friend's wounded arm, and Hermione immediately sat down next to them.
"Hurts... but bearable. A scratch."
"Deep. And what possessed you?"
"Aguamenti... Ferula..."
"Am I an idiot?"
"You behaved like an idiot. What difference does it make who's first... We'll all try!"
"Can you get to Pomfrey yourself, or should I accompany you? I don't know how to stop blood, only bandage, sorry. Hermione, dry him off."
"Let's run, maybe they'll stop the blood and you'll also manage to fly, huh? Or don't want to anymore? Look, Hagrid brought another one..."
The unfastened chain clinked, a huge wing lowered near Malfoy, and the boy, without thinking long, climbed up. A short and powerful run during which he thought only about not falling, an amazingly smooth takeoff... His stomach squeezed in a spasm, his heart plummeted somewhere down, and then...
He wanted to simultaneously yell and sing from delight: it was amazing, better than on a broom! Buckbeak made a large circle over Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and the lake and slowly landed, again lowering its wing, down which rolled Malfoy drunk with happiness.
"Milord," Crabbe and Goyle bowed their heads.
"Milord," the rest of the Slytherin guys picked up.
"Draco..." the girls couldn't say anything more.
And didn't need to. Slytherin was proud of its prince...
"Malfoy, that was cool!" green eyes flashed behind glasses: Harry was already rushing to the next beast.
Potter. Admires. Him.
This, damn, really is cool. This... absolutely!
Suddenly he felt sorry for all those who hadn't experienced this. Even Weasley. Oh, shouldn't have remembered... The ginger hulk was already rushing back. "Well, wonderful," thought Draco. "Otherwise I'm getting completely strange. Hope they won't tear Weasley to shreds completely, otherwise who will I sharpen my wit on?"
And the newly-minted professor had to persuade a couple more animals: all students expressed a desire to communicate more closely.
"Just be careful and bow like Malfoy, they sense everything... Weasley, not to Buckbeak! Go right, there's Vanagangroy, he's younger. Wait, stop! Show how you'll bow. No, need to be lower... Well, something like that. Careful!"
***
"What was it like to take off!"
"Scary, and then—great!"
"On turns just wind."
"Such wind!"
"Yeah..."
"Totally..."
"That was a lesson! Never would have thought Hagrid could make something interesting, but it was something..."
"Yes, I didn't expect it from the gamekeeper either," Malfoy supported Pansy, glancing sideways at Potter.
To his surprise, he didn't rush to defend the half-giant.
"Actually you can study with him, just have to extract the necessary information every lesson."
"Meaning?"
"Well, ask questions all the time. Once or twice... third, fifth—nothing, but then it gets annoying really. I won't stay here."
"You don't want to attend Care of Magical Creatures?!" Weasley was shocked. "But Hagrid..."
"If we agree with him in advance, I think he won't be offended," Harry answered Ron. "Will you come with me today? And you, Hermione? Care is definitely not mine, but we can visit as friends."
Common experiences unite. And experiences of such strength...
So the combined third year Slytherin-Gryffindor team, having tramped together into the Great Hall, again caused cognitive dissonance in everyone who met them, starting with Mrs. Norris. Filch frowned for a long time but decided that all this was in any case not good. "If these start mischief together, I'll definitely quit," he muttered under his breath and shuffled off.
***
"Granger, the headmaster's calling you!" Lavender Brown tore the girl from homework. "Wonder what you did?"
"Wondering myself, Brown," Hermione closed the book and put things in her bag.
At the headmaster's she met with her Head of House and inconspicuously sighed. They together greeted the office's master and sat down across from each other. The headmaster started talking about the importance of diligent study, praised her efforts, hinted at continuing education after school, insisting that she should positively influence her friends and he believed in her.
Hermione tried to remember, but the meaning blurred and slipped away... Finally Dumbledore fell silent and leaned back in his chair, sipping tea.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall began, "is a very responsible student. I think we can go for this."
Here the girl finally remembered how at the end of last year she almost tearfully asked the Head of House to allow her to attend all subjects next year. Wow, she almost forgot... Is this really about that? Can't refuse, under any circumstances, she's just obsessed with attendance, performance and discipline. Yeah, especially discipline... The fact alone that it was she who pushed her friends in first year to search for information about Flamel and everything that came out of it later should have left no stone unturned of the image of a disciplined schoolgirl!
But she needs to be sincere, look how the headmaster's eyes are sparkling, even the chain of runes inside her sleeve has warmed up. And she decided to confess—let it be what it will be.
"Headmaster, professor... I've already chosen my main subjects. And in the schedule... I can't be in two places at once, and here it turns out it's otherwise impossible."
"Don't you want to try something else?"
"Of course I want to! But how?"
Fortunately, she didn't have to feign enthusiasm: "trying to learn something else" always sounded very tempting to her. It reached Hermione: they want something from her. Particularly, for her to attend all subjects. Wonder why?
She left in deep thought and... delight. Because you can't help but admire such an amazing artifact, and the fact that it's now hers is incomprehensible to the mind! Time-Turner. Legend. She carefully squeezed the chain. We'll research it!
But still, what will be required of her? She shivered. She needed advice. Urgently. Get caught for detention or start walking at night from the very first days? They'll decide she's been replaced and will force-feed her antidote to Polyjuice for a long time. Yuck.
Right, need to come to Charms as early as possible tomorrow! Wonder how long before the lesson does Professor Flitwick arrive? Though, why is she—Harry can write to him in the notebook!