The study's owner, incidentally, was seated in one of the armchairs under the light of a tall floor lamp, sipping whisky from a glass and reading a newspaper, while behind his back hovered a notepad and quill, which periodically wrote something quickly. Beside him, on a round carved side table, lay several more newspapers — either already read or still awaiting their turn.
"Are you finished?" the fair-haired master of the house asked without looking at us.
"Yes, William," Smetwick replied. "I'll borrow your table for a moment."
William nodded and silently tipped his glass in hand — as if to say, "Help yourself." Smetwick took the offer, and, tired but satisfied, quickly settled behind the large desk, produced two parchments for the contract, a special quill, and was clearly about to begin inscribing the first lines when he thought better of it and looked at me.
"Let's work on the contract together, Mr. Granger. I'd rather not rewrite everything ten times if someone suddenly takes issue with something."
"Agreed."
Walking up to the desk, I drew one of the chairs toward me — it had been standing off in the distance, among several cabinets containing various small items, dinner services, figurines and several clearly collector's editions of books — and sat down beside Smetwick.
William glanced at us, gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, and continued reading, choosing not to distract us from the discussion of the contract's particulars.
About half an hour went into drafting the contract — there were almost no disagreements. Smetwick didn't care much about many things where another wizard, or simply a sufficiently self-interested and mercenary person, would have tried to extract some advantage in any form — even the "right to do absolutely nothing" — he magnanimously didn't bother with any of that, as long as it wasn't at a loss to him. It seemed that acquiring a talented student was far more important than any petty, fleeting gain.
We signed with the blood quill, each took our own copy, and both of us — myself and Smetwick — exhaled with something like relief.
"Well, I think that's that," the Healer smiled, settling more comfortably in Greengrass's armchair and folding his hands on his stomach. "One can consider that from this moment on, Mr. Granger, you are in for the study of many not-entirely-pleasant aspects of wizarding life and the wizarding world in general."
"I imagine, Mentor," I smiled, allowing myself to relax a little as well, though the chair was not as comfortable as the armchair. "All these examinations, as well as the rather specific areas of magic you asked me to study, were necessary to confirm my... lack of squeamishness, if one can put it that way."
"Exactly."
Mr. Greengrass, at that moment, set down his now-empty glass on the side table with a characteristic sound, set aside his newspaper, and looked at us seriously.
"What interests me more, young man, is your duel with Nott."
"Just that?" I turned to him, keeping my relaxed smile.
"Is there something else I should be interested in? Perhaps you think I was surprised by some sudden change in the weather?"
"Hard to say," I shrugged.
"There are many various tricks and maneuvers that might come to mind, and which might help in such... sleights of hand," William dismissed it contemptuously. "Off the top of my head I can think of a couple of ways to arrange something like that, to prepare everything in advance and play it out at the right moment."
Smetwick, while still smiling, glanced at Greengrass with a reproach that seemed to say: "Tricks aren't something this boy needs." But that's beside the point.
"And what, Mr. Greengrass, interests you about my duel with Mr. Nott?"
"You could have ended it literally in a second — like the snap of a finger," Greengrass even snapped those very fingers, demonstrating the implied degree of ease of what had in truth been a simple enough task.
"I could have."
"So why did you turn it into such a demonstrative spectacle?"
"And what would be the point of ending it quickly?"
"Explain?"
Smetwick, while we conducted our dialogue, proprietorially reached for the bottle of fine whisky and secured himself a glass, settling in with interest to hear our conversation continue.
"It's quite simple, Mr. Greengrass," I spread my hands slightly apart, showing how plain and obvious it was. "A swift, instantaneous conclusion to the duel — would be foolish. Nott would have reassured himself that I got lucky, or some such..."
Though I knew that Theo himself was well aware of the difference in ability between us. But what matters here is not only his knowledge, but also what others would see, and what he might say after the duel.
"...however," I continued my thought, "I chose to demonstrate such a conspicuous show of superiority. Healer Smetwick was also interested in my skills. Could I have demonstrated any skill in spellwork if I had simply immediately crushed Nott with raw power? That's a rhetorical question, don't trouble yourself."
"Insolent," Greengrass snorted.
"My student!" Smetwick clapped me proudly on the shoulder. "And he eats well. A good wizard must eat a lot, especially a boy."
"Look at you," Greengrass smirked, nodding at Smetwick. "Can't seem to work any of it off."
"This is my comfortable weight, don't reproach an old man for such a small weakness."
"My question still isn't fully answered," Greengrass looked at me again.
"What's there left to not understand? I decided that I'd destroy all of Nott's attacks with counter-spells exactly a meter from me — no closer, no further. Isn't that an adequate demonstration of skill, knowledge and ability? The safe spells I reflected back, so as not to put the poor wretch out of the fight earlier than I deemed appropriate. And as for power... With power, I batted the Cruciatus away."
"That was impressive, by the way," Smetwick nodded approvingly. "One must, it seems to me, have excellent magical control, and also be well-versed in the Dark Arts. Which, incidentally, your Dark protective charms demonstrated admirably, Mr. Granger."
"It wasn't difficult."
"Wasn't difficult..." Greengrass shook his head. "Many people spend years and lose a portion of their sanity achieving such a 'wasn't difficult.' I'm no expert in such matters — my domain is charms. But even so..."
All these gatherings really ought to be concluded now — and people at home might be worried. I had said I might be late, but hadn't said by how much, and by all appearances it was now night.
"Well then, gentlemen," I rose from my seat. "It's time for me to take my leave, as they say. I was delighted to visit your splendid home."
The door opened and Daphne and Pansy practically tumbled into the study — they had been standing outside, eavesdropping.
"We'll see you out," Daphne stated with finality, while Pansy simply stood at her shoulder, lending full support.
"You're right, Mr. Granger. I suppose that since you are so talented, you'll manage to get home on your own," this phrase Mr. Greengrass delivered while watching Smetwick also making preparations to leave. "While the Healer Smetwick and I will stay, I think, sit and talk. Today has brought a great deal of food for thought."
Daphne glanced at her father with mild displeasure, and the reason was obvious — they were sending out into the middle of the night someone who, by all logic, shouldn't know how to Apparate, and other such things. The Knight Bus many simply never considered, especially families of pureblood wizards, especially those who prided themselves greatly on their "purity of blood."
"Of course, Mr. Greengrass, that will take barely a couple of moments," I smiled, nodded a farewell to Smetwick, and headed for the exit from the study, observing yet another flash of mild displeasure cross William's face.
In the company of the girls I walked along the corridor toward the front hall.
"You both look tired."
"My, you're observant," Pansy snorted — she was ready to fall asleep practically anywhere.
"It's been a heavy day," Daphne exhaled. "Good thing Pansy's staying over for a couple of days, otherwise things would be quite bleak. And then these guests for half the day..."
"'Children, go and play in the garden,'" Pansy was clearly quoting someone, pulling a face. "'We'll be going over the same things for the hundredth time here.' That Nott is insufferable, like an eyesore."
"I thought," I said with a smile, "that you were on neutral terms with him."
"We were, until," Daphne replied before Pansy could get in a few choice words, "quiet, calm Theo turned into a flustered, foolish, scheming idiot. And we weren't friends to begin with. Just acquaintances. Like many others."
"By the way," Pansy managed to find some energy for a smile, full of enthusiasm. "You did quite a number on him, Granger."
"Did a number? I hardly did anything at all."
"That's the whole beauty of it!"
Having reached the entrance hall, standing practically at the door to go out, I asked Daphne:
"Are our plans for tomorrow still on?"
"Of course," she smiled.
"What plans? What plans?" All the drowsiness fell away from Pansy in an instant. "Take me along. I don't want to go home."
"Perhaps it's a date," I looked into the face of this presumptuous creature. "Wouldn't you think you'd be a third wheel?"
"Pretend I'm not there, what's the problem. Daphne?"
"Daphne?"
"It'll actually be more fun this way," Daphne straightened my shirt collar. "You can't call this outing a date anyway. A date is something..."
Daphne thought for a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Loftily romantic?"
"Perhaps," Daphne agreed with me.
"Wonderful!" Pansy was delighted. "Not going home!"
"And also," Daphne looked at her friend, "Astoria arrives tomorrow. You could stay here with her."
Pansy frowned.
"A difficult choice... Difficult... I'll think about it. Because one could dress her entirely in pink..."
Pansy drifted off into her own thoughts, while Daphne, with a completely mischievous and impudent smile, kissed me goodbye. No, I understood the reasons for this "mischievous and rather daft" smile — her parents' home, all that implies, the house-elf nearby watching, everything will be reported. But somehow... It seems that teasing the elder Greengrasses is the favorite pastime of Smetwick and his beloved goddaughter. Truly, you become like the company you keep...
I departed Greengrass Manor in good spirits. Standing beyond the estate's grounds, I gazed at the lights of the small town below the hill. An overcast sky, faintly lit by the modest night glow of the tiny town, a cool breeze, tall grass swaying in waves, rustling. Nice.
Having concealed myself from ordinary people with magic, I Apparated to a spot near a convenience store not far from home — a corner, an alley, not very clean as usual. Nearby stood a group of local youth, drinking something and making a lot of merry noise. Naturally — what else would you do in summer, at night? Certainly not sleep.
Remaining completely unnoticed, I calmly set off on foot toward home — it wasn't far. In the occasional houses along the road, bright lights burned. In some — muted, from night lights or the television. Peace and quiet, all's right with the world.
I reached home without incident. I noticed nothing magical in the vicinity and no one suspicious — I had deliberately made an extra loop around the neighborhood. At home, a light burned only at the front entrance, as everywhere, and in the living room.
Coming inside, I took off my shoes and went to the living room. Hermione was reading a book in the light of a floor lamp beside the sofa, with the television on in the background.
"Reading?"
"Mm-hm," she nodded. "You were a long time."
"I hope the parents weren't too worried."
"Surprisingly, no," Hermione put a bookmark in the book and, closing it, set it aside, looking at me. "Mum said: 'If he's staying late, there must be a reason.' Dad was entirely in agreement."
"And you? Sitting here, not in your secluded den of a great reader."
"My room is not a den," Hermione puffed up like an offended mouse. "But yes, as you can see, I'm sitting here. Waiting for you to make sure everything's alright."
"As you can see," I spread my arms wide and spun around on the spot. "Alive, healthy, a picture of good looks."
"How did it go, if you don't mind me asking."
"For a story like that, you'll need milk and biscuits. Lots of milk and biscuits."
"I'll sort that out. And you go get changed and wash up."
The story ahead will indeed be a long one, and since I'm not particularly sleepy, and Hermione clearly isn't going to bed either, why not tell it? I can sleep later.
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