We entered the Entrance Hall, but there were very few wizards here, and everyone was too busy communicating with each other to pay attention to anything around, so we continued moving towards the Great Hall without any problems.
"Thank you, of course, for such an amusing explanation of the principles of evolution. But what does this have to do with Dark Magic?" Lady Malfoy smirked very venomously, but I, it seems, do not perceive such things in a negative way at all, and even vice versa—positively.
"Still the same story about crutches. A wizard, weak on his own, using Dark Magic, defeated a more developed and talented one, with a better set of signs and qualities. It doesn't matter in what sense 'defeated', the result is important. And it, the result, is simple—the defeated is at the bottom, and his set of successful, superior signs will not be passed on to the next generations."
"That is, he is isolated from the possibility of reproducing?" Lady Malfoy chuckled.
"Well, we live in a society," I smirked back. "Even at the bottom one can find this opportunity. But the partner will be far from the best—they are all there, closer to the top. Until the Dark Magic practitioner 'defeated' them all. Now, imagine that this is not an isolated case, but a concept of society, and it turns out that the appearance of a strong wizard among Dark Magic practitioners is more of an accident than a natural pattern."
"A sad picture emerges," Lady Malfoy continued to chuckle. "How then do all these wizards survive at all?"
"Oh, it's simple. The reason for this is society itself. The survival of individual species has long ceased to depend too much on signs and qualities, on evolution. Money, business and so on. Even a complete talentless idiot and dimwit, unable to figure out which end to hold a magic wand, can sooner or later be taught a couple of simple actions. Performing these actions, the dimwit and idiot will perform simple work, receive Galleons, sit on weekends in some Leaky Cauldron and discuss the hardships of measuring the thickness of cauldron walls with other idiots, and complain what idiots everyone around is, and he alone—is a rose among manure."
Lady Malfoy smiled more openly for the first time, and even laughed a little, covering her mouth with her palm.
"Your words, Mr. Granger, remind me of my father's words. True, he argued this purely by non-observance of pureblood customs, but your theory is much more plausible. True, rather unpleasant, and even dangerous for voicing in society, opinions can be traced in it."
"So it is. We, people, whether we want it or not, are part of a huge and complex natural mechanism. The processes underlying us, our development, do not tolerate compromises. This is a cruel and unchanging truth. At least for now. Society can simply not accept realities, overcoming them. Some of this is good, and some is bad."
We almost reached the Great Hall, and I decided to wrap up this topic of conversation.
"Ordinary people, for example, have many different social mechanisms, opinions and so on. For example, there are a number of congenital diseases that negatively affect both appearance and mental abilities. According to certain norms of society, they try to fit such people into this society one way or another. Naturally, they reproduce, spreading and fixing not the best signs and qualities. The same applies to medicine. A great boon for a person, and no less great grief for a biological species. It allows preserving the lives and health of individuals with unsuccessful combinations of signs, non-viable combinations. Naturally, this is fixed in heredity, accumulates. And I, in fact, am interested in what will happen sooner—humanity will learn to correct its heredity, or will degenerate, turning into a species capable of surviving only by surrounding itself with 'crutches' from head to toe?"
On such a sad note we entered the Great Hall. At the house tables sat some of the students in the company of their parents, talking and laughing, or communicating very seriously with each other. Someone stood nearby, someone walked back and forth. In general, lively, albeit not particularly crowded.
"By the way," I headed to the Slytherin table, spotting Mr. Malfoy with his son in the company of other students and their parents behind it. "Since your family expressed a desire to assist my development, I would be grateful for an introduction to strong wizards, not particularly greedy for knowledge. Precisely wizards, and not lovers of pulling the Ministry blanket or vainly shaking the air in endless disputes in the corridors of the same Ministry."
"Hmm..." Lady Malfoy looked at me with suspicion. "So you, Mr. Granger, understood the reason for our communication?"
"Mr. Malfoy failed the attempt to lend me 'knowledge' under a plausible pretext rather mediocrely. It is logical to assume that a beautiful lady will talk a youngster much better."
"And how do you assess the success of the 'beautiful lady'?"
"Admired. But you could have just asked. I prefer honesty for honesty—it's simpler and more effective."
"Will take into account. It was pleasant to chat, Mr. Granger..."
We said goodbye at the Slytherin table, and if the adult wizards did not pay attention to what was happening at all, although most likely, simply pretended, then the students looked with slight surprise, suspicion and misunderstanding. And how—famous radicals, and communicating with a Muggle-born? Suspicious!
Examining the Great Hall and the wizards present here, I came to the conclusion—there is absolutely nothing for me to do here. Look, Hermione, for example, is fussing with some book, and even managed to interest the Weasley twins with something—they sat and read. Thoughtfully. That is, the twins ignored the opportunity to communicate with their family and older brothers for the sake of a book? Not surprising that a couple of students look askance at this company with the fiercest distrust and apprehension.
And what to do?
As a result, I wandered around the castle almost all day, meeting various students with their parents. Naturally, I repeatedly met Aurors too—some were even on duty, in red robes, stern and attentive.
Relatives also came to our foreign guests, albeit only to a few. Well, at least not only to champions—already good. Look, Romanova's father and mother came. Their communication clearly didn't stick particularly well, but on the whole everything was quite good. Ekaterina even managed to snatch me out of the crowd and introduced me to her parents as a talented duelist capable of competing with her. They looked at me, formed some opinion of their own, politely said goodbye and went with their daughter further for a walk, and judging by their faces, when I met them again an hour later, they managed to both quarrel and make up.
Fleur rushed around with her little sister and parents all over the neighborhood, cheerfully chirping something and showing, completely ignoring everyone around her. It was even cute, considering that most of the time she behaves like a lady, and here—the most typical girl, joyful and enthusiastic.
In general, I suffered from idleness, observing what was happening in the castle, thereby also resting from the study blockage organized by Snape and other teachers—no one gave the students a break.
In the evening, when many parents "flew away" about their business, and very few remained in the Hogsmeade hotel to be present tomorrow at the competition, or to support their champion children, I met Cedric at the doors of the Great Hall.
"Everything still on?"
"Of course," he nodded. "Let's go, dinner is about to start."
This was indeed so, and the Hall was gradually filling with students, exhausted for the day both from communicating with parents and from constant running Hogwarts-Hogsmeade.
"Hector," Justin cheerfully put food on his plate. "And what did you do?"
"Aimlessly wandered around the castle," I "attacked" the food with no less enthusiasm. "You?"
"Ah, sat with a couple of guys in the common room, played chess and Gobstones. Well, looked through a couple more magazines."
"In short, also idled."
"Well yeah!" he chuckled, and immediately became a little sad. "No one will invite my parents here."
"Just like mine."
"That's why I asked," Justin nodded. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Bon appétit to us."
After a hearty dinner, I met Cedric at the entrance to the common room. He looked around and nodded to me to follow him. Ten meters later we entered an unused classroom, which was opposite from the one where the guys and I usually practice magic. The furnishings here were, as everywhere—chairs, tables, blackboards and absolutely bare walls without any individuality. It seems that each teacher decorates the classrooms used as they see fit, and by default they are completely empty, boring and uniform. Although, I am sure, somewhere there are specialized classrooms implying use as auditoriums only for one single subject.
Cedric went to the bookcase standing against the wall and pulled out a large case from behind it—round and flat. One could pack a decent-sized hula-hoop in such a thing, and judging by the thickness—several. Putting the case on one of the desks, Cedric quickly opened it and took out two rings into the light—red and blue. The colors were bright and even in poor lighting they could be easily discerned. Fortunately, the light in the classroom is now turned on to the maximum.
"So, look," Cedric put the red ring on the floor next to him, and went to the other end of the class, holding the blue one in his hands. "There are two rings."
Cedric put the second one on the floor and straightened up, shaking his hands.
"For training Apparition, you need to do everything according to a simple scheme," he came closer, explaining. "The technique itself is performed simply. Hold the wand in your hands. Accurately imagine the place you want to get to. It is important to imagine not only it, but specifically the point where you will stand with your feet."
"Got it."
"As soon as you imagined, wave the wand wider, doesn't matter how. Seems," Cedric thought. "You said that you feel magic quite well."
"There was that."
"The wave is needed to wrap yourself in your magic through the wand."
"Logical."
"Make a wave. Your next task is to turn on your heels one hundred and eighty degrees, simultaneously pronouncing 'Apparate'."
"Understood."
"For training, this needs to be done from circle to circle. Stand in one circle, and imagine how you will appear in the other, while mentally imagining the situation and everything around. The task of training is to make the first successful Apparition and consolidate the result with several repetitions. This skill is perfectly driven into consciousness. Let me show you."
Cedric entered the red circle, took out his wand and demonstratively concentrated. Wave of the hand, beginning of movement on heels and:
"Apparate..."
The last syllable flew away with Cedric into a spatial funnel. Visually it seemed as if a person was really sucked into a funnel, distorting like a rag disappearing into some toilet bowl—no other way to say it. At exactly the same moment Cedric appeared in the center of the blue circle.
"Like that," he nodded with a smile. "Come on. Now your turn."
Cedric left the circle and moved to my place while I entered the red one.
"Ready?"
"Why not..." I smiled.
Quickly and qualitatively imagining the classroom and the empty blue circle, wished to be there, imagined it as the place where I will appear. Wave of the wand, completely wrapped myself in magic, began movement on the heel and pronounced:
"Apparate..."
Once in a past life, at the insistence of a friend, I jumped with a rope from a bridge into a cliff. The rope, of course, is elastic, but at the moment of its tension it seemed to me that all my insides along with the skeleton would fly out of me by inertia. There was a similar sensation here, only pulled by the center of the stomach, and where—is unclear. It seemed that in all directions. More correctly to say, as if I sharply began to shrink, but all the contents of the body by inertia strove to remain in place and as a result seemed to be bursting.
A moment, and I am standing in the blue circle, looking at Cedric, and he applauds with a smile.
"Wonderful!" he rejoiced. "On the first try. And no splinching, left limbs or partial Apparition."
"Hm? And you didn't say about such danger?"
"Well, I'm not an instructor," he shrugged, keeping a smile on his face. "I heard... Or read somewhere? Doesn't matter. In general, something about 'don't think about a white monkey'."
"I also heard such a thing."
"So," Cedric continued the thought, folding his arms on his chest. "Instructors talk for half an hour about what consequences can be with incorrect Apparition. Not surprising that the first attempts for everyone are failures. And in general, the first unsuccessful Apparition serves, as if, as an anchor—with each unsuccessful attempt it is more and more difficult to relearn to the correct one."
"Hmm... I see. As they say: 'I didn't know that you could die here, that's why I survived'."
"Ha-ha-ha, yes," Cedric laughed. "Something like that. And now, the same thing, only into the red circle. To consolidate."
And I repeated the Apparition according to instructions—it went a little easier. Generally, I remember exactly how the magic moved around Cedric when he Apparated in front of me in the summer. Now I felt the nuances on my own skin and understood what visual images need to be composed. In principle, everything is within expectations, except for slight nausea—that's annoying.
The stomach gurgled and rumbled strongly.
"It will pass," Cedric waved it off, hearing this action. "Here you repeat a dozen times, and there won't even be slight nausea."
"I'll take your word for it," I smirked and began to Apparate from circle to circle, time after time.
Twenty minutes later—got too carried away—Cedric stopped me, and began to collect the circles, putting them in the case.
"Well that's all," the prefect summed up, hiding the case behind the cabinet. "Now, on trifles. Apparition in Hogwarts is prohibited—this is embedded in the castle itself, and not just 'not allowed'. Well, and remember when you do this outside Hogwarts—with training rings the process is significantly easier. It may seem that Apparition is given very hard and you made a mistake somewhere, but it is not so."
"Understood. Thank you, Cedric."
"Trifle," he waved it off, but shook the outstretched hand. "I earned quite well being an intermediary between you and the twins. By the way, about that."
"Yes?"
"You didn't forget that I'm graduating this year?"
"Indeed. Didn't forget, but didn't take into account."
"You, Hector, need to come up with something to enter the 'market' without me. I have a thought."
"Yes? Tell me."
"Well, I will submit your candidacy for consideration for prefects, you will become a prefect, and using this status you will approach the twins. Like, so and so, I am now a prefect, and our figure wants to continue cooperation. I think no one will have thoughts that it is you."
"Even considering my successes in sorcery?"
"Even," Cedric nodded. "I know for sure that there are no books on creating artifacts in Hogwarts—there is simply nowhere to get them in the country. Not ours, I told you already. Rather they will look for someone who has connections with foreign wizards, and will dig precisely into Asia."
"Got it... Okay, anyway, thanks. This is a useful skill."
"You bet!"
At this our lesson ended, and we went to the common room. Personally, I planned to sit with the guys, do homework—no one canceled it. However, as soon as I landed in my comfortable chair, greeted classmates and opened the backpack to get school supplies, our Head of House entered the common room. Smiling kindly at me, she approached.
"Guys, good evening. Hector, dear, the Headmaster is calling you."
"Yes? Well okay," I shrugged, closed the backpack and threw it over my shoulder, getting up from the chair.
Hope he has already considered my candidacy for access to the library. Today, if rumors didn't lie, while students walked here and there with their parents, another pedagogical council was supposed to take place—Cedric talked about this with other graduates at breakfast. Something important had to be discussed, including access to the Restricted Section for seventh-year DADA works. Basically, by the way, they only go there on this topic. Not for nothing did I talk to every teacher about my competence and adequacy. Seemed everyone could only praise me.
This is exactly what I was thinking about on the way to the Headmaster's office.
There was no gargoyle in the niche, and the entrance to the spiral staircase was free. Quickly climbing up, I heard quiet conversations of several people in the office. Madam Sprout went up first. Knocking, she opened the door.
"Headmaster," she said. "I brought Mr. Granger."
We went inside, and Madam Sprout stepped aside. Here are the Minister, and other Headmasters, and Snape.
"Well here," the Minister nodded in my direction.
Out of the corner of my eye I noted the movement of a wand from the side. Sprout?
"Som..."
There was no sense of danger, but consciousness simulated it perfectly, analyzing. Relaxed too much. Instantly firing up all available energy, released it, and with fading consciousness wanted to be in another place for preparation...
. . . . . . .
"The students listened apprehensively to their senses. Many felt as though a slight earthquake had begun, but it appeared to be merely a figment of their imagination."
. . . . . .
"You don't want to? But is he alright?"
"Trill."
"That is well."
"Dumbly-dorr..." Madame Maxime mangled the Headmaster's surname in every syllable available to her. "But what to do about ze 'ostage? Monsieur Delacour 'as made it clear zat 'e does not wish to see sweet Gabr-rielle in zis r-role..."
"We, Madame Maxime, will set out to find Mr. Granger and, I hope, on the second attempt, we will actually talk first, and cast spells later. I hope our honorable Minister of Magic will deign to remain unconscious at least until morning."
"I will convey your wishes to Madame Pomfrey," Snape nodded, levitating Fudge's body with magic.
"Impudent boy..." Karkaroff hissed displeasedly, shaking the ash of burnt hair from his head with annoyance.
"Igor," Dumbledore smirked. "The new look suits you very well. You know, it speaks volumes."
Dumbledore turned in his chair toward the shattered window and looked up at the night sky. Why is everything always so complicated?
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