In the common room a debate was gaining momentum. The schedule, despite the promise, still hadn't been changed, and many classes that Harry wanted to attend were scheduled simultaneously. And since he'd already managed to involve almost the entire third year... It happened like this.
It all started in the dining hall. Harry noticed that his friend was pale and clearly hadn't slept enough, and continued developing his thoughts aloud about wanting to attend classes in all subjects. And that he was offering each classmate to first try everything, then choose.
At the Gryffindor table it became unexpectedly quiet: classmates looked at Harry with open mouths. Because this guy, in their memory, hadn't been particularly interested in studying. It's one thing to retell books and movies he'd watched over the summer, another to bury himself in books, and completely different ones, not at all as exciting.
"Yes, I've matured a bit, so what? Well, who can tell me how else I'll find out—maybe I have a talent as a Seer? Or maybe numerology will be native to me? How will I understand this if I don't attend a single lesson? Give me at least one, and better two or three, but in all subjects, so I can properly decide. After all, I can't split myself!"
"Potter, I think so too!" a short sturdy Ravenclaw approached Harry, who still hadn't sat down at the table. "That's the right way to choose," he addressed the others sitting at the table. "Otherwise we're like groping in the dark opening a door to we don't know where. Or we know, but only from rumors. But our future depends on whether we choose the right door..."
"Great comparison!" Harry looked at the unexpected like-minded person with wide eyes and finally thought to extend his hand: "Harry Potter."
"Anthony Goldstein. Why I came: we composed a petition here, but if besides our house you also sign it... especially you, Potter, well, you understand..."
"Not a problem! Show me, where?"
The guy pulled out a neat parchment and poked with his finger: "Here, higher up, so your surname is noticed immediately..."
Harry signed.
"Can I?" Dean Thomas reached for the parchment.
Stunned Seamus stared at him...
"Let me too," Hermione extended her hand.
At the neighboring table rang out loud contemptuous snorting from Slytherins. Harry turned around.
"Do you have a walrus roll call, or will you say something smart and useful?"
Potter. Zinged them. And how he zinged, damn... Right now the Gryffs could laugh at them with full right, if only... if only they weren't in exactly the same shock and, holding their breath, waiting for continuation.
"It's just interesting to observe the beginning of a bookworm movement on a completely unsuitable house for them," Parkinson drawled in a poisonously-sweet voice after a small pause during which the snakes were coming to their senses.
"Only Mudbloods and Muggle-raised don't know family abilities," Malfoy threw down haughtily, preparing for an attack from the scarlet-and-golds.
"Malfoy, you're so amusing," Potter issued imperturbably instead of blushing or getting offended, and even held back his ginger friend who'd jumped up, hugging him around the neck and winking.
The Slytherin looked absolutely stunned at Harry, for a moment resembling Weasley in his facial expression. Ron's knees simply went weak and he plopped into his seat.
"And you're not interesting to watch," Granger answered Parkinson's remark.
The Slytherin company in unison stopped chewing and made big eyes. However, the neighboring Gryffindors looked about the same.
"Why is that?" Malfoy and Parkinson were indignant almost in chorus after a small pause.
"Malfoy," Potter practically returned the Slytherin his tone, "do you really mean that over dozens of generations of your ancient family's glorious history you had completely identical children in abilities? You don't reproduce by Geminio, do you? Haven't you had anyone with talent, for example, in numerology or runes? Or maybe Seers? And when choosing a partner for the heir, didn't the parents ever take interest in candidates' abilities?"
Goldstein smiled and, winking at Harry, continued the thought: "Imagine you're offered to invest a lot of money in some enterprise... But will it be successful? A Seer can sense it."
"A numerologist can calculate the probability of any outcome," Granger picked up.
"A runologist can add a small chain to the contract, thanks to which no one can cheat you. Or vice versa, if conditions are unfavorable, help easily break the agreement."
Granger and Goldstein exchanged understanding glances. Their duet succeeded gloriously.
"We can hire..."
"And spend money, well done. But if you yourself have such talent in embryo, are you seriously going to... pros..." Harry bit his tongue. Need to be patient and not express himself too colloquially in front of these "high-born."
His phrase was continued in unison by Hermione and Anthony: "Miss out..." "Lose..." "Don't you need it? You'll blow it..."
Judging by their faces, the Slytherins were clearly visited by new and very curious thoughts, and they suddenly didn't feel like continuing to argue.
"Goldstein, let me have your petition. I'll sign," Daphne Greengrass was first.
The initiative Ravenclaw, thanking the Gryffindors, moved after his parchment.
"Potter, you've changed too much somehow," the twins whistled, saving their younger brother who was in such shock from the entire previous conversation, especially from his "best friend," that he couldn't even utter a word.
Harry just smiled, trying to give his face the most naive expression, and addressed his ginger friend. He definitely needed to be occupied with something, otherwise they simply wouldn't endure so much foolishness...
"Ron, don't you want to sign?"
"Why?" he asked in a strained voice, anticipating... trouble?
"Here, imagine if on the table there are so many kinds of pies you can't possibly eat them all, all with different fillings, some you've never tried. Need to choose what's the tastiest. What will you do?"
"Ron's in a stupor," thought Harry. "But a pleasant one. Good comparison," he praised himself and continued:
"I'd agree to taste with someone in pairs. Half a pie—and everything's clear. Or just break off a little. And then eat what's really the very tastiest for you, and enjoy. That's how I want with new subjects too, understand?"
Judging by the ginger's face, equating school subjects with pies was nonsense... But... it really was similar. With pies he understood very well indeed. The guy even stopped chewing, thinking hard.
***
"Goldstein, when will you take this pe... petition to the headmaster?" Potter caught up with the Ravenclaws coming out from breakfast.
"Why to the headmaster? We'll send it to the Board of Trustees... If he wanted to, the schedule would have been changed long ago, they've talked about it more than once! Time passes, and we're still being fed promises..."
"Maybe a copy to the trustees, and after classes we'll all go as a year to Dumbledore? Otherwise it's like we're tattling on him... Not nice. We still have five years to study here."
The Ravenclaw looked respectfully and nodded.
So after classes a rather large crowd formed near the famous gargoyle, in which there were several representatives of all houses. Even "badgers" came.
"Good thing Malfoy didn't go," thought Harry, watching his ginger friend glance sideways at Slytherin representatives. "Wonder if he came up with sending only pretty girls?" With Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, Weasley somehow couldn't bring himself to pick a fight.
Finally they were let upstairs, and Harry once again laughed to himself seeing classmates staring in amazement under their feet—except for Finch-Fletchley and himself.
"Such darkness... should drag them all to some shopping center for a tour or something? Ride the escalator!"
***
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore frowned: he was trying with all his might to delay the promised visit by children to all subjects for almost the same reason those wanted it. Appearance of new inclinations? Quite possible! But this means appearance of a considerable number of new factors and conditions, and who will calculate everything? How good and clear it was when all family representatives were occupied with the same things as their ancestors! How wonderfully the development of events was predicted! And what now? These will start, then the rest will catch up...
And his influence on Granger will weaken considerably: what if she also decides to choose? Though... no, judging by behavior, the thirst for knowledge he'd slightly strengthened back in first year will sooner dry the girl out than she'll agree to anything less. Will need to think about a restorative potion... He wasn't going to lose even a small but so useful figure through whom it's so convenient to influence the Hero.
When third-years appeared in the doorway, headed by a strange pair—Potter and Goldstein, the headmaster was already shining with one of his most radiant smiles.
When Harry Potter finished his short but quite capacious and expressive speech, the headmaster internally winced.
"Still, Severus clearly overdid it. A pity, but can't present claims to him here, should have formulated his... wishes more clearly. But for now... isn't Harry taking on too much? And most importantly, hasn't he gained too many new contacts? Need to separate him... a bit. Teenagers don't like being commanded, so... What if?.. No, can't be. Tom?.." The last thought that flashed required all the headmaster's restraint to keep his face. Yes, Tom Riddle would be extraordinarily appropriate at the head of just such a delegation.
"Leadership aspirations, Harry?"
Sincere bewilderment in the wide green eyes calmed Albus a bit, but... thoughts in his head never arose just like that, of this he was certain.
"What? You're kidding?" Harry's voice didn't immediately come through. "I just wanted to find out, to choose, but how to choose if you don't try? And this," he nodded at the parchment lying on the table, "the Ravenclaws came up with in general. Cool, right? Here everyone signed, look..."
Dumbledore shifted his eyes from the last awkward scribble to the reddened Ron Weasley.
At dinner the headmaster had to announce two weeks of free subject attendance for third year, but on condition of careful accounting and daily reports to prefects and Head of House.
They applauded him, some joyfully, and some out of politeness: besides third-years, no one else appreciated it—and it didn't concern anyone else.
***
For such a full house in her subject Sybill Trelawney was completely unprepared. How to survive this?.. Should drop a droplet of opiates so the children become calmer... Fortunately, her hand trembled in time, and the thought came to her head that among children there might be those with amulets. Which would certainly signal their owners that something in their cup isn't right.
And she had to limit herself to only adding chamomile and mint... Alas, to contain teenage energy bursting over the edge, these modest herbs were clearly insufficient.
Sybill internally shuddered seeing the room full of Gryffindors. And damn it they kept climbing and climbing through the floor hatch! If only... She imagined the sealed opening, but this of course didn't help. The detestably meticulous Ravenclaws had just left her, and the poor thing dreamed of a break more than ever. Tea, only tea. And lots of it. Maybe then they'll stop asking so many difficult and terribly uncomfortable questions?
Even that girl is still here, and the professor had so hoped to never see her again. As well as her too famous friend. Again this Potter! How does he not understand that in his cup was a terrible warning...
Hermione in a calm whisper was telling extremely interested Brown and Patil what culottes were, and Harry ended up paired with Ron.
"Definitely, he has some special ability to forget what he wants to," thought Harry. "After all, when it was clearly said: don't approach until you apologize. And what? Hasn't apologized at all, but here he is, both in the dining hall and in classes—worms in and sits as if nothing happened. You hint to him—he's bewildered. Fight?.. Don't need fights."
Finally having finished his second portion (and why did he need so much today?), he handed his cup to his friend. He was turning it this way and that, trying to at least imagine what the ridiculous figures formed by tea leaves could look like, when Professor Trelawney finally approached them.
She turned the cup in her hands a bit and predicted a "mortal enemy," "attack," "danger on the road" and, of course, again saw the Grim, ominously howling that it's a harbinger of death.
"Yeah, I know... death, right, maybe from laughter..." Harry remembered something from what Sirius did while being a bulldog and almost laughed, but then another thought struck him and he immediately grew serious.
"Excuse me, professor... could you clarify: an attack BY a mortal enemy or ON a mortal enemy?"
The professor mentally groaned... The sediment only allowed imagination to present a series of images, but in no way connect them to each other. And how should she explain this? Oh, Merlin, what does this boy think of himself?..
"Do you," she said in a weak voice, already seeing that her guess was close to the truth, "want to attack the Grim?"
"That's the only way with dogs," Potter answered confidently. "Most importantly, you can never show them fear, they sense it. You have to immediately show them who's boss, and everything will be fine!"
"You... you've already communicated with it?!"
The world suddenly paled, and Miss Trelawney simply fainted.
***
"So skinny," Brown sympathetically drawled, helping Granger wrap the professor's skirt tighter. Transporting through the hatch a puny but still adult body, and in a skirt... Female solidarity didn't allow the girls to leave the professor's skinny legs to the mercy of fate, that is, to the view of classmates.
The guys at this time were racking their brains how to push the unconscious body through the hatch. Turned out "Mobilicorpus" was known not only to Potter and Granger.
"Maybe better try to bring her to her senses here?"
"Well... find something smelly."
"Can't... everything smells nice here. This thing seems stronger, almost stinks," Brown handed Potter and Finnigan some box and they, without thinking long, stuck it under Trelawney's nose.
"A-ah... aow!" Brown yawned, and Patil, barely sniffing, dragged her to the open window. Which, by the way, Potter threw open first thing as soon as the professor fainted.
"Take it away from her!" the girl shouted, but it was too late: Professor Trelawney fell fast asleep without coming to her senses.
"Maybe leave her and let her sleep?" Harry suggested.
"We already prepared everything. Rescue operation, right?"
"Ah... well okay, continuing. What if something really threatens her? Look, she inhaled... Patil, was that harmful stuff or not so much?"
Parvati shrugged.
A company of Gryffindors carefully levitating the Divination professor in front of them couldn't help but attract general attention. First they encountered... Slytherins, though not in full composition, without Draco and a couple of his faithful companions.
"What did you do to the professor?" Greengrass was indignant.
"Why immediately we did?" Potter was somehow businesslike surprised, continuing to look concentratedly at the teacher. "Don't distract, I'm afraid to drop her."
"Mobilicorpus..."
"Thanks, Greengrass."
"To the Hospital Wing?"
"Of course."
"What happened?"
"Wish we knew... Nothing special. Maybe drank something, or maybe inhaled something."
"Something smells suspicious about her," Zabini sniffed.
"In her office it always smells of something bad! She's soaked through."
"Come on, we're all alive so far, but her... sitting and breathing there."
"Horrible..."
"Poor thing..." Patil and Brown sighed in unison. "Doesn't spare herself. Potter, you were absolutely right..."
"You know, personally I'll come in a respirator next time..." Hermione informed.
"Will there be a next time?"
"What's a respirator?"
"Such a Muggle thingy... Greengrass, you sure you want to know?"
"If it helps so it doesn't stink... Tell."
A company of Gryffs and snakes peacefully discussing something was quite an unexpected sight in itself, and their common burden... So on the way to the Hospital Wing everyone who saw them joined. About twenty to thirty people. Madam Pomfrey, seeing the peculiar demonstration, exhaled and silently leaned against the wall... And only after laying down the unfortunate Trelawney and learning that all the rest were "just accompanying," sighed with relief.
"Didn't think you became so popular, Sybill," she addressed the unconscious woman. "Hope when you wake up, you'll share the news."
She waved her wand, conducting primary diagnostics.
"My Merlin, dear, you really should not only drink but also eat! Sometimes at least..."
***
And at this time everyone who was involved in the unexpectedly ceremonial transportation of the Divination professor to the infirmary was intensely eating. They almost missed lunch! Jaws worked quickly and businesslike, there was no time to talk: everyone had classes after lunch too, and no one wanted to get penalty points, much less detention.
On the way to Care of Magical Creatures, Gryffindors quite expectedly found themselves in Malfoy and company. There's only one path from the castle. Zabini actually got his people to communicate, having become interested in that same "respirator." He continued developing the thought.
"If we make a magical analog: take a small tampon and conjure around it something like a Bubble-Head..."
"What's a Bubble-Head Charm?" Potter asked.
Draco terribly wanted to needle his eternal rival, but, Mordred, he himself didn't know yet what it was... Can't admit it!
"Enlighten them, Blaise, since you started!"
"That's how, the main thing is to hide your own interest. 'Best education, best education!'—well, daddy..."
Weasley opened and closed his mouth, not understanding what possessed his long-time enemy.
"Interesting, interesting. And if here you put, for example, just a tiny such air semi-permeable shield... and fix it with something?"
"Granger, you're a brain. These aren't pig snouts from your idiotic twins, these are normal filters! Dragonologists and farmers will quickly line up for them!"
"Weasley..." Malfoy moved his lips only, but for some reason everyone heard. "You have an older brother..."
Ron goggled at the Slytherin as if seeing him for the first time.
"What's it to you?"
"He's a dragonologist, isn't he?"
"How do you..."
"Ugh, in our village everyone knows everything about everyone! If they want to, of course," Seamus Finnigan clapped Ron on the shoulder. "He can find out if such things are badly needed in their farm and how much could be gotten for them?"
"Sell?.. Make and... sell? Ourselves?"
"What, too weak for you yourself, Weasley?"
"Not at all!"
Maybe some quarrel would have flared up here, but... they'd already arrived.
Hagrid also wasn't ready for total attendance of both houses at his class. But seeing Harry, he rejoiced and sighed with relief.
"Take out and open your books," the half-giant said and immediately heard a united murmur in response.
Harry listened with surprise as his classmates complained about the received books. Hermione, whom he'd helped figure it out before leaving for school, preferred... to observe. Turns out this is much more interesting than just telling everyone everything. How fascinating! Look, Parkinson and Greengrass are carefully, literally with two fingers, extracting their books. And what's on their hands? How curi-ious! Would love to approach and ask. Later. For now she'll just write it down, just in case.
"What about the book? It's co-ool..." Harry first pulled out his textbook and was already holding it in his hands, joyfully stroking. It purred loudly and presented its spine under his fingers, which the owner scratched with pleasure. "Mine."
Hagrid looked tenderly at the students, almost tearing up.
Looking at his classmate, Neville almost mechanically did the same... and instantly solved his problem: the book sprawled comfortably on the guy's arm, smiling at it incredulously.
Draco really wanted to show he's not like everyone else, and therefore, inconspicuously scratching the binding and instantly "taming" the book, commanded loudly:
"Heel!"
Hermione quietly snorted, watching Malfoy's book size up his pant leg... But the blond trickster surprised here too, quietly whispering down:
"Sit. Otherwise I won't scratch for two days. Won't even pick you up."
The book obediently quieted down.
So another Care of Magical Creatures lesson, which the gamekeeper allocated specially for getting acquainted with the textbook, went normally, unlike the previous one when books nearly bit through Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third-years. He still didn't understand why... And there was no time. He barely managed to catch all the books so no one was especially hurt and they didn't scatter through the Forbidden Forest.
***
Ron Weasley felt bad. Completely. It finally reached him that his best friend was interested in completely different things than he was. Seems soon they'll simply have nothing to talk about. Harry... How did this happen? The not particularly loved sixth Weasley didn't understand himself how attached he'd become to Harry Potter. After all, he was the only one who listened to him attentively... The only one to whom he, Ron Weasley, was simply interesting and needed. How... What will happen now? Stay alone? From one thought for some reason a chill ran deep inside.
On the last day of the week, barely getting out of bed, Harry announced he was ditching Muggle Studies and Divination, and instead going to Runes and Arithmancy. What Ron experienced at this moment defied description. Though tomorrow's the weekend, means there'll be Quidditch practice, and maybe he'll finally see the old Harry?
"Ron, come with us to Runes," Potter called him after breakfast.
"What did I lose there? It's all brain-breaking!" he was pleased to be invited, but the subject itself... scared him. For some reason it was frightening.
"What if you turn out to be a cool runic mage?" Hermione asked him. "Merlin also pored over runes in his youth, I read..."
"Me? Cool?" the guy was dumbfounded.
"Well, in chess you build such combinations... And in runes there are also combinations. I read. Only we don't know yet which of them are pawns, which are rooks, queens... or queen? How is it correct?"
They took him under the elbows from both sides, took him along, and it was... great. He felt a strange warmth inside, for some reason imagining how a piece of sugar dissolves in a cup of tea, and automatically started moving his legs, listening about how Hermione imagines "runic protection." Oh yes... embroidery on their shirts. Oh, he'll be able to compare? And read what's sewn on him... He pondered, started imagining something, muttering under his breath, and didn't notice how his friend fell silent and how attentively Harry looked at him.
"Combinations... Queen is always one, though... they definitely say 'queens'..." so, moving his lips and surprising himself, Weasley-six reached the runology classroom. Entering the door, he felt as if caught in heavy rain. He looked around. No, dry. Amazing. And then it became easier for him to sit next to Harry than return to the common room alone.
The introductory lesson turned out to be something like an instruction over a chess board. Meanings of pieces. Rules. Combinations. Ron unexpectedly realized for himself that... he understood everything. And then got carried away. Because... there definitely was something in this! Compose a chain to get a result—Merlin, this is fascinating! Especially don't need to memorize anything, just look in the reference book.
And if instead of Sowilo you take Jera in the meaning "person will return," wonder what will change? And why?
His thoughts in general never stayed in his head long, immediately jumping to his tongue. He asked...
A spark of interest lit in Bathsheda Babbling's eyes, and after the end of class she offered him to stay.