"I knew you'd make the right choice, Potter.
"Thank you," Harry replied politely, sitting down in the seat offered to him. "However, it seems to me that the headmaster and some of the professors do not share your enthusiasm..."
Harry was absolutely right. One glance at the teachers' table was enough to see that they were not just shocked, but somewhere between the world of the dead and the world of the living. McGonagall stood as if she were a stone statue, forgetting even that the sorting was over and that she had to take the hat away. Dumbledore, judging by his appearance, had completely fallen into a state of prostration, sitting and staring into the void in front of him, completely forgetting his welcome speech. A tall man in black robes, vaguely resembling a younger version of the Master, kept his eyes fixed on the Slytherin table. A huge man — most likely a half-giant — looks like a small child who has been terribly hurt by being denied a sweet and is about to burst into tears... Well, the rest are not far behind. Some are simply trembling, others are lost to the world for the next few minutes. Only one lady in a pink robe — Madam Umbridge, as far as Harry could tell — looks completely calm. In fact, after a full minute of silence and stupor on the part of the other teachers, she decides to bring some sense back to the situation. Her characteristic "ahem," which the walls of Hogwarts would hear many times in the future, abruptly sobered the teachers. The students, however, especially the Gryffindors, looked at Harry with caution.
"It seems like the Slytherins aren't very popular here," he asked Draco, who was sitting next to him.
"Yeah, screw them," Malfoy literally beamed with joy. "Slytherin is generally considered a hotbed of evil and dark wizards. You'll get used to it."
"So you're not a breeding ground here?" Harry feigned surprise. "Oh, I was hoping... Maybe I could kill someone and get sent to Azkaban? I'm sure I'd find someone to talk to there..."
The Slytherins giggled, looking at the newcomer with much more relaxed and interested expressions. A subtle sense of black humour and self-irony, as Harry later realised, was highly valued among the members of the snake faculty.
"If your victim is Weasley, I don't mind," Malfoy remarked.
Laughing along with the others, Harry listened intently. The headmaster, having finally come to his senses, rose from his chair, which looked more like an intricately crafted wooden throne, and gestured for silence.
"Ahem," Dumbledore raised his voice slightly with magic, although there was no need to do so, as the silence was absolute. "Newcomers, welcome to Hogwarts, and to our old guard, welcome back to your familiar haunts. Before we begin our magnificent feast, I would like to say a few words... First, I would like to remind each of our students that it is strictly forbidden to enter the Forest unaccompanied. Secondly, our school caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch, has asked me to remind you all that performing magic outside of class, as well as using certain magical items, a complete list of which can be obtained from Argus himself, is also prohibited.
"Ignore those restrictions," Harry whispered to Draco. "No one's listening, and the worst punishment is losing points."
"Cheats," Harry whispered back. "The master would skin me alive if I broke his direct order.
"... we have some minor changes in the teaching staff this year," Dumbledore continued. "Please welcome Professor Dolores Umbridge, Defence Against the Dark Arts, who, in addition to her regular duties, will also be conducting an inspection of the quality of education at Hogwarts this year. Good luck, Professor."
The witch in the pink robe stood up and smiled sweetly at everyone present. She looked as innocent as possible, but Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of Umbridge. So much hatred in her eyes... If his mentor hadn't strictly forbidden him to use necromancy above second order, and if there hadn't been so many witnesses, he would definitely have asked her... Well, to look at the emanation absorber for a while. Such concentrated malice could kill... Who in their right mind would allow her to teach?! And okay, if it were Necrosite — necromancers are used to such horrors — but children! Ordinary children, untouched by Granny, most of them untrained in mental defence... Harry realised that he would certainly not be bored.
"Other than that," Dumbledore hastened to continue, clearly not liking Umbridge's gaze either, "there will be no changes to the rules. Selection for Quidditch teams, clubs, and organisations will begin in three weeks," the old man smiled slightly. "But we'll talk about that later... Now... Let the feast begin!
A wide variety of food instantly appeared on the tables. Harry couldn't help but admire it — whoever the Hogwarts chefs were, they knew their stuff. There were numerous salads. Many different meat and fish dishes, all kinds of side dishes imaginable, vegetable platters, sauces of all kinds (Harry counted at least forty) and, for some inexplicable reason, mint candies. But there was no wine or mead in sight. Well, who would allow teenagers... However, there was plenty of juice. Harry smiled slightly, filled his cup with grape juice, glanced around furtively to make sure no one was watching him (the headmaster and Snape — who, it turned out, had called a professor who looked like a young mentor — they didn't count), held his open palm over the juice, and sniffed. Wine is grape juice that has been well fermented and purified of all impurities. Simulating this process with magic is not as difficult as it might seem. You'd need good raw materials. Of course, we're a long way from French winemakers, but still — the result, at least in terms of smell, is pleasing. Harry moistened his lips slightly and smiled.
"What are you so happy about?" asked Theodore Nott, sitting opposite Draco. Then he sniffed the air deeply. "Wait a minute... This is...
"Wine, yes," Harry replied to his unspoken question, taking a cautious sip. "Just ordinary homemade grape wine. Not Château Margaux 1787, of course, but not bad. Would you like to try some?"
"But they don't serve wine at Hogwarts. How?!""Sleight of hand — no cheating," Harry winked at his new classmate, saluted with his cup, and repeated the gesture. "To your health."
"I'm embarrassed to ask where you learned that.
"Where I learned it, they don't teach it anymore," Harry smiled slightly. "It's not Quidditch, you have to think here.
The Slytherins giggled again, and Nott — who, as Harry later learned, couldn't stand Quidditch — nodded respectfully.
"We'll work it out.
"By the way, Potter," Pansy reminded him. "Where have you been all this time? They've been looking for you all over the world... They even thought you were...
"Not far from the truth," Harry remarked. Looking at the silent Slytherins, he sighed. "Are you really interested? Seriously?
"They say you lived with Muggles.
"Not exactly," Harry began, cutting his steak melancholically. "I lived and still live in two worlds. My mentor insisted that I study both the magical and Muggle sides of life.
"But why?
"There are too many Muggles," Harry sighed, realising that explaining the advantages of Muggles to pure-blood fanatics was a very stupid idea. "In case I have to deal with them, I studied their curriculum too. A talented person is talented in everything..."
"Do you live with a mentor?" Malfoy caught him off guard.
"Yes," Harry nodded. "All my life. But please don't ask me about my speciality yet. My master was very insistent..."
"Then why did you come to Hogwarts? Aren't you afraid that Dumbledore will drag you into his games?
"I'm not afraid," Harry shook his head. "I'm a little apprehensive, but let me put it this way: I didn't come here to get involved in British politics, and the old man can't make me do that.
"Are you sure?
"Absolutely," Harry nodded. "He's nobody to me, so I couldn't care less about his slogans.
"Your parents were on his side, according to rumours.
"And where are they now?" Harry took another sip of wine. "I'm out of politics. Let's not talk about it, okay?"
"Fine," Draco shrugged, although Harry knew that he wouldn't let it go, so sooner or later he would have to tell him something about himself. But that would be later. If at all.
***
The Slytherins lived in the dungeons, which automatically raised the comfort level of their bedrooms by six or seven notches. At least, in Harry's eyes, the slightly cool but by no means cold dungeon resembled an old morgue or some kind of crypt. Not only that, but it turned out that Slytherins lived alone, which delighted the necromancer. What possibilities! He could set up a laboratory, an operating room, a warehouse, and much more in his room... And he wouldn't have to share or make arrangements with anyone.
But what didn't please him was the appearance of Christ to the people... That is, to the dean to the students. No, of course, the teacher himself did not make a bad impression — calm, like a boa constrictor, slightly gloomy, with a quiet voice... But his magic, or rather, the ties of this magic, visible to the necromancer's eye as clearly as a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day to a mere mortal, made Harry wary.
Professor Snape glanced at the students with an unreadable expression, gave a brief welcome speech, wished everyone a good night, promised the prefects that the course schedule would be posted on the notice board tomorrow morning — and Harry even thought that this would be the end of their acquaintance, but...
"Potter!
"Yes, sir?
"We need to talk. Alone.
" As you say, sir.
Beaming him after him, Snape moved away from the students to a small secluded corner. As Harry realised, this place had been specially equipped in the common room for such private conversations with the headmaster. In any case, the dome of silence around the table, as well as the spells to distract attention, were simply magnificent. They had clearly been cast by a highly skilled specialist.
"Where have you been all this time?!" the Slytherin headmaster immediately went on the attack as soon as they were under the spell. "Potter, do you have any idea how much noise you made just by being here? What, wasn't the glory enough, or did you just want to remind us of yourself?"
"Where I was is irrelevant," said Potter calmly, his tone slightly icy, which caused Snape to cool down a little. "Even if I told you, neither you nor your bearded boss would be able to find it.
"How did you... Never mind. It's better if I don't know. But do you have any idea what you've done by showing up?
"I assure you, I am well aware of what is happening, sir. Just as I am well aware that my appearance has caused a real storm in magical Britain," Harry interrupted this obviously well-rehearsed story. "Remember one thing — I don't give a damn about Dumbledore, the Ministry, Voldemort, or politics in general.
"The headmaster will not take your opinion into account.
"He should," Harry said, alert. "No one dares give me orders!"While you're on school grounds...
"I know what role our mutual acquaintance has planned for me in his game... Just warn the headmaster that I'm not a pawn in his game," Harry asked. "If he wants to, let him find someone else. I'm happy with what I have. And tell him that if he tries to mess with me, I'll fight to the end. And there might be some dead bodies.
Harry didn't bother to clarify that these possible corpses would then have a good chance of coming back to life and fighting on his side. The professor was satisfied with this simple rebuke.
"Then why are you here?!"
"Because my father was a pompous idiot!" Harry snapped. An unpleasant gust of icy wind swept through the faculty lounge. "I don't know what my mother was like, I have nothing to reproach her spirit for if we meet. But I would gladly pour silver filings into my father's ectoplasm. Signing a contract for a newborn child... You bastard...
Severus Snape looked at the new student with some doubt in his eyes. However, he was now somewhat calmer.
"Well, what about your fame? Your notoriety?
"As I already told my classmates, I will try not to cause any trouble and only use my fame in exceptional cases. Otherwise... I'll quietly finish my fifth year here, pass the OWLs, then take the sixth year as an external student, if possible. The second year will be my seventh year, I'll pass the OWLs — and goodbye, bloody Britain.
"Can you handle it?" Snape sneered.
"We'll see," Harry replied evasively, knowing full well the level of preparation required at Hogwarts based on the entrance exams he had to take for the Ministry. "Sir, if you have no further questions for me, may I go? It's an eight-hour journey, and before that, three hours of packing and four at the airport going through Muggle customs..."
"Go, Potter," the dean waved his hand. "Just my advice...
"I don't trust the headmaster without your advice, nor any of his allies." Harry smiled slightly. "I'm only telling you all this, Professor, so that you'll have something to say to the old man when he starts questioning you. But don't worry... After all, I remember who left me on the doorstep of that Muggle house.
Leaving Snape in a state of prostration, Harry climbed the stairs to the upper-year dormitories — Malfoy had explained the layout of the common room to him during the banquet, so all that remained was to translate the blond boy's rambling story into practical terms. Pushing open the door to the room decorated with a silver plaque bearing his name, Harry smiled.
"I wonder if the dean sent someone to search my luggage?
On the floor next to the bag, which someone had clearly tried to open without being noticed, lay the tiny corpse of a house elf dressed in Hogwarts robes. Making sure there was no one in the corridor, that there was no one else in the room, and that the door was securely locked from the inside, Harry closed his eyes, took his real dark wand out of its holster, not the piece Ollivander had given him, and made a complicated gesture over the body of the unfortunate creature.
"Exsurge mortis.
The elf's body jerked, twitched reflexively, and began to rise slowly, like a broken doll. Large eyes, almost the size of tennis balls, looked at the world with a hazy gaze, and pale blue threads ran through the body, enveloping it in a dense web and subjecting the newly summoned corpse to the necromancer's will. It was a simple, even elementary spell of the school of death, one that even a simple wizard could cast, albeit with great difficulty. Still, the ice of the Faces, instead of part of the heart, gave significant advantages in certain branches of magic.
No, Harry could have done a much better job of reviving him. Without all those "special effects," like the blue stripes glowing with an icy light on the former house-elf's skin. And the movements could have been made less jerky, but, first of all, that would have taken more time, secondly, a ritual circle was required, and thirdly, the master made it clear that death magic must not be older than second order. So there you go, let him enjoy the result of his limitations. Especially since he didn't forbid sending dead House-elves as messengers.
"Answer my questions," Harry ordered in an icy tone. "Were you sent to me to check my things?
"Yes," croaked the little body, obeying the death magic. Slowly, with a groan and with great effort, as if under the influence of truth serum.
"Did Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, send you to me?"
"Yes."
"Did Severus Snape know that you would be checking my things at the time of our conversation?"
"No.
Harry scratched his forehead. The animated house-elf, still not fully under his own control, repeated the necromancer's gesture with surgical precision.
"Go to my master. Report that the apprentice has arrived and repeat our conversation. Answer his questions and obey him as you would me. Do it."Yes, sir..."
The house-elf disappeared with a soft pop, and Harry, sighing heavily, went to his bag. If it was customary for the teaching staff at this school to search students without good reason, he had to protect himself from such actions. A ritual circle of protection would be ideal for this. It just looked like he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.
***
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