"Damn it, this reincarnation… Who are you to do this to me?!"
I wasn't shouting, I never lose my temper, but I was still in a state of extreme irritation and shock.
"I died nobly, saving a man from under the wheels of a drunk rich guy… Couldn't that at least be taken into account and send me to Heaven?!"
"Uh-gu-hoo!"
I turned my head irritably toward the owl.
"You have two options, annoying little bird. The first — you stay silent, and we're all happy. The second — you keep distracting me during my thoughts and turn into a Beijing-style owl. Is the hint clear?" — the owl quickly understood, turned its head, and buried it in its feathers as if asleep.
Well, at least it won't interfere, otherwise I have a literary scene to perform.
Night, street, lantern, I'm in my room. Not sleeping. Shouting is forbidden — you'd wake the relatives. In general, midnight is the perfect time for reflection.
Really, why did I need this? I lived quietly, bothering no one, an ordinary office worker.
And then — bam! — I resurrect in a universe full of ambiguities and tons of illogicalities.
And, on top of that, in the body of the biggest fool.
"Good evening, I'm the dispatcher, or rather, Harry… damn it, Potter!"
Then I set to what life had taught me best: solving problems. This had already become an unconscious reflex back when my mortal body sat in the office from morning to evening.
This skill especially developed when I managed to reach the position of department head.
It turned out that you were capable, but your employees — not always.
That's how I learned not only not to make mistakes myself, but also to quickly fix the mistakes of subordinates, and later those of colleagues from other departments.
Month after month, living in such a mode, you start thinking differently. Because if you don't solve a problem before the management notices — it won't be easy for you.
You should have seen the tricky schemes I had to come up with to stay afloat. Let's see what my overloaded brain will come up with now.
First premise — the presence of magic.
Without much effort, you can perform supernatural wonders.
Even more — you can break the laws of the universe, even if only through the simplest and harmless spells, but still. Becoming rich quickly, of course, if you don't think like the local wizards stuck in medieval concepts.
A tricky point — self-realization on the path of a wizard. Tricky, because almost everything possible is forbidden. There's also the matter of the Supervision over underage wizards. Sometimes it exists, sometimes it doesn't — unclear. If it does, I need to find out for sure.
Second premise — health.
Honestly, I don't know how much health is left in my body. Physical damage accumulated over two years of training and all previous years of life. Vision, which can certainly be corrected by regular doctors. It's also worth bringing my body to normal condition, getting rid of thinness — after all, I'm not living in a concentration camp.
Third premise — social circle.
Imposed. Useless. Dragging me down. Perhaps for Potter, raised in an artificial environment with minimal information and influence from other people, such a society had value. But such a trick with a thirty-year-old adult won't work. It needs to be eliminated.
Fourth premise — money.
Until I reach the goblins, nothing can be stated for sure.
Fifth premise — Horcrux.
We'll figure it out along the way.
And the final premise, combining everything mentioned above — OBS.
It stands for "old bearded scoundrel."
Everywhere you look — his hand reaches, he interferes with everyone, because, in his opinion, he knows best how to ruin your life. Thoughts raced one after another, trying to give me a solution to the problem.
And they all boiled down to a single one — remove him. The consequences will be unpredictable, but partially foreseeable.
The main benefit — freedom and relief for others.
This ridiculous cover-up and excessive attention to me, the beloved, will disappear.
We'll get a new director approved by the Ministry, and he won't care that Gryffindor loses in the house competition, or that Harry Potter had too few deadly adventures this year. Mistakes will be punished, and properly, not just nitpicking over trivialities like the philosophy of love.
Well, regarding "punishing everyone," I slightly exaggerated — the so-called purebloods will be protected, and that means I will be in some measure as well. The main thing is to build the right and necessary connections with the right people.
I spent another hour pondering, trying to choose a plan of action for the coming week.
It was exactly seven days in which I intended to deal with Dumbledore.
No, I don't consider myself a brilliant schemer who can solve all his problems with a couple of letters — quite the opposite. I'm an ordinary person, not very clever in these matters, you could even say, foolish. The deadline had long been missed, and not by me, but by two previous generations.
Besides, I am not getting rid of the head of Wizengamot, but exactly the DIRECTOR of this best magical school in the world. My plan is rather foolish, there's no other way to put it, but even if it doesn't work, they'll still lose. After all, there's no less foolish Plan B. Only the necessary components remain to be acquired.
The morning was bright, only a pity there was no cigarette.
I woke up at six, and by ten minutes past seven I was already standing on the porch, drinking very decent coffee.
Now it's time to have breakfast — as I want, not as ordered. Oatmeal immediately goes for a walk to the usual address: I eat it only when I feel like it, I'm not going to follow any strange traditions.
So, ham on the pan, chop some onions, mix in two eggs — and perfection. Accompanied by ketchup and almost half a loaf of bread. I eat without bread only what is supposed to be eaten without bread.
While cooking and eating, I didn't notice a whole hour pass. At that moment, I was finishing my second cup of coffee when I suddenly heard loud knocks on my door, accompanied by the usual comments from my relative:
"Wake up, naughty little boy, and go make breakfast!"
As I understood, she went to the bathroom to freshen up. No problem, we'll wait.
Waiting lasted only about ten minutes, and to spare my ears from Petunia's pointless shouting, I took my wand with me. We'll scare her with nonexistent laws, though there's a chance that, with proper explanations at the "trial," nothing will happen to me.
As expected, the woman came downstairs. Seeing me smirking, she immediately prepared to start a scene, but the magic wand in my hand did its job.
"Come here and sit down, we need to talk."