The night before the task was marked by pervasive silence and tranquility in Hogwarts Castle—the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry. At least, that is how many of its graduates describe it as "the best," but there is one thing on which even the wealthiest wizards from old families, who have accumulated knowledge for generations, are forced to agree—the library there is definitely the best, perhaps even in all of Europe.
But, unfortunately, it was not this matter that preoccupied Potions Professor Severus Snape and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. A troubling situation had arisen for many reasons—Hector Granger had gone missing somewhere.
His backpack was discovered replacing the helmet on one of the suits of armor in a niche in a second-floor corridor. Nearby lay a Gryffindor sixth-year. He bore traces of singeing and electrical shock.
"Decided to help himself to another's property in the dead of night," concluded Snape, looking at the student with distaste. "Unconscious."
"It is good that he is merely unconscious, Severus," Dumbledore nodded gravely and removed the backpack from the armor. "I believe Mr. Granger will still have need of this."
"I assume you will not be attempting to check the contents?"
"Do I look like a youth greedy for other people's belongings?" Dumbledore looked at Snape with bewilderment.
"I would prefer not to have to transport you to the Hospital Wing as well."
"And why does it seem to me that there is less concern in your words than there are pineapples north of the Arctic Circle?"
"I wouldn't know..."
How much longer would they have to search? Only Merlin knew. Dumbledore could not pinpoint the exit point—only that it was in the area of the dungeons. The house-elves did not know where Hector Granger had gone and could not even say where he had appeared. But they needed to hurry, for, be that as it may, it was too late to change the situation, and the second task would take place tomorrow after breakfast, or to be more precise—already today.
. . . . . . .
To say that I was asleep would be a brazen lie.
However, on the other hand, the spell slowed down the thinking process incredibly, and completely removed control over the body—I realized this while in darkness. There were almost no thoughts of my own, and this is where the spiders showed themselves—they worked magnificently, regularly sending visual and audio information to the brain, which was almost unprocessed, just deposited in the subcortex. One of the spiders was attached to the backpack and acted as a kind of rearview camera, so I knew where the backpack was and knew that McLaggen was too greedy for other people's goods.
A couple of spiders scattered to the sides from pockets when I appeared at the exit point of spontaneous Apparition. Although, this is not quite Apparition. At least my brain perceived the process differently.
It was a pity about the clothes—I realized almost immediately that they "burned out" from the excess of emission magic, and the form of this magic was partially electrical. It's good that the underwear survived—not for nothing did I buy magical ones, from magical fabrics. They held up. Why am I even thinking about underwear? Oh, it's extremely simple!
The spiders scattered at the exit point regularly sent visual and audio information, giving an understanding of where I ended up. As a result, I saw and heard everything happening, and the sight of Daphne lying under the blanket in a starfish pose amused me greatly. An unprepared guy's mind would be surprised by this, because her manners are lady-lady. Heels-knees together, movements are measured, moderately elegant, and here is this. From the category "princesses poop too".
Honestly, I thought that they would either hand me over to Snape, calling him, but it turned out that the cockroaches in their heads, or rather in only one black-haired head with a bob haircut, are too strong. Okay, I think, they will put me on a free bed—anyway, judging by it, no one sleeps there, and the number and appearance of pillows and blankets suggests that Pansy sleeps on Daphne's huge bed. But no, Parkinson turned out, it seems, to be too bored.
Result? I, all motionless and in only underwear lie on the bed, and girls sleep sweetly on the right and left shoulder. The situation is ambiguous. On the one hand, I feel little—everything is extremely dull from a physical point of view, but like any guy, I like it to a proper degree. On the other hand, there is a feeling that I was married without me. And in the past life, and even in the memory of shards, some intimacy was called intimacy for a reason—I wasn't a fan of jumping on ladies' beds like a stud, preferring to find one partner, and if it doesn't work out—then look for another. Or she will be found herself.
After reflecting on the situation, I decided not to try to free myself from such embraces for now, and think about something else—reacted too violently to the attempt to put me to sleep. I do not know the exact circumstances under which everything turned out the way it did, but I will not hastily accuse everyone. And immediately after the movement, I guessed for what reasons they might have wanted to put me to sleep on that particular day—no other way than chosen as "kidnapped" for Fleur. And decided to follow their legend to the maximum—kidnap. And I thought that at today's pedagogical council they would discuss my access to the Restricted Section, if the conversation touches me at all. And here is what...
Twisting this thought this way and that, I decided that there is nothing terrible in the role of "kidnapped". Unless they could have just said it first? Moreover, the Headmaster knew that I knew the essence of the task.
Purely out of youthful spite and temper, I can be offended, lie here until the competition itself even if I wake up, fortunately, the company is pleasant, warm, sweetly sniffling into the neck. But, on the other hand, I know perfectly well how people love to look for scapegoats, and wizards even more so—read newspapers, listened, saw, observed. A Muggle-born boy disrupted the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! I already see how the Minister exposes me as evil in the flesh. And I splashed out a significant amount of magic—surely someone suffered at least a little in the Headmaster's office. I'm sure about the professors—they are "good fellows", cast spells well. But Fudge creates an impression... as radicals say? A Muggle with a wand? Yes, something similar. In general, it is not convenient for me to sabotage anything. Maybe they will find another person, but what if not?
Concentrating, I began attempts to bring my energy out of the sleep state. Long, very long. Step by step, drop by drop. At one fine moment I felt how consciousness regains its former strength and power, the shackles of unfinished charms fall, returning control over the body.
Eyes opened sharply. At the same moment, streams of information from spiders went into the background, turning again only into kind of mental stars that can be reached easily—just reach out.
Warm, cozy, moderately soft on both sides. Internal clocks said that now it is about four-five o'clock in the morning. But a couple of minutes can lie? Of course can! Even though my hands were occupied, there is some freedom. Carefully and slowly moving, hugged Daphne with one hand. She almost didn't react, continuing to sleep soundly and sniffle rhythmically into my neck. Hugged Pansy with the other hand. She settled more comfortably, pressing closer. Also sleeping.
The desire to lie like this was extremely great. All this caused purely and only positive, but with my mind I understood—no need to delay. Yes, it may happen that everything will be decided without me, and I am even sure that it will be so. Only this will create a number of problems, and no one likes problems—they will take it out later.
Quietly sighing, checked with hands the presence and condition of the lower "ninety" of the girls, wrapped them in magic and carefully lifted them into the air with the same magic. A moment, and I slipped out of bed, carefully putting the girls back, moving them closer to each other—let them hug themselves. They, by the way, immediately did so.
Reaching for the holster on the forearm out of habit, not only discovered it, but also the wand inside—didn't notice? Ignored, considering it the norm? Who knows...
Waving the wand, transfigured the air around me into clothes, fixed the result, created shoes, got into them and, creating a simple black robe with a hood, wrapped myself in magic, making completely undetectable as far as fantasy allowed.
The door to the room was enchanted, but even without diagnostics it was clear that charms and spells were directed into the walls and outside, and from the inside one can do anything. So I did—opened it. Quietly, not a single hinge creaked, nothing clicked, and I easily and without problems almost went out the door, but turned around, smirked at my thought, and with a few waves of the wand created a couple of bouquets and a note of typical content, like: "So and so, the night was wonderful, but unlikely to be repeated. Fallen Prince". Surely they will watch the memories of Pansy and Millicent, and understand everything in the end. If smart.
Now I left the room with a clear conscience, closing the door behind me. An unexpected problem for me was that according to information known to me, the women's wings of all common rooms are protected by powerful complex charms so that guys don't wander where they shouldn't. I had no desire to fight these charms. Exit? Can, of course, try to Apparate again, breaking the protection with a powerful flash of magic, but there is a simpler option! What was the name of the particularly inadequate house-elf, one of those who blissfully stare at me in the kitchen, waiting for a magical handout? Tinky? Winky? Dipsy? Lala? What delusional names...
"Turky," I called quietly, suppressing a chuckle. Called, and "Turks appeared".
"Did the young strong wizard call Turky?" the house-elf inquired quietly, folding his hands together and looking devotedly with big eyes.
"Yes. Can you transport me to the Headmaster?"
With consciousness I connected to the spider on the backpack—it was Dumbledore who carried this backpack, combing the dungeons together with Snape.
"Turky very much regrets," the house-elf hung his head, "but house-elves are not allowed to transport students."
"You are a good fellow, Turky," I leaned down, patted the house-elf on the head, pouring in more magic, and the house-elf swam. "But the Headmaster is desperately looking for me and we cannot make him wait. After all, he is the Headmaster!"
"Yes-yes," this euphoric house-elf nodded, taking my hand. "Headmaster Dumbledore is a great man!"
A moment, and I am standing opposite the Headmaster and Snape—they illuminated the corridor spaces with Lumos. There was no one else but us.
"Headmaster," I nodded.
"Mr. Granger," he smiled, immediately holding out my backpack. "You made us worry."
"You made me too... Worry."
"Where have you been?" Snape asked immediately.
"And don't you want to tell me anything?"
"Except that all measures that were to be applied to you were agreed upon, and methods dictated by the Minister of Magic himself?" Snape smirked.
"Now-now, Severus," Dumbledore nodded reassuringly to both of us, seemingly just in case. "I think the Minister's strong recommendations turned out to be inappropriate. Several negative human factors converged in one place at once, leading to such consequences."
"Consequences?"
"Oh, Mr. Granger," Snape smirked. "You provided us all with a unique opportunity to see a smoked Minister of Magic in smoking rags, an electric barbershop named after Granger, which made Karkaroff bald, and... Provided doubtful pleasure to see Madam Sprout's underwear. I am already silent about the damage to the office."
"Really? Can't say I'm particularly upset."
"I understand," the Headmaster nodded. "I suppose we still have to go to my office, and on the way I will explain what is the reason for such ambiguous actions..."
"I understood everything anyway. Getting into a reliable and safe place," at this thought I noted that "safe" it is quite conditional and this safety depends on the point of view. "I almost immediately realized that I was chosen for the role of 'kidnapped'. Assume, for Miss Delacour."
We walked quickly along the corridors, and it seemed that in a step we covered several meters at once. Almost immediately a staircase appeared, along which we went up to the Main Tower, and there the route is familiar.
"Yes, that is so," the Headmaster nodded.
"But we didn't really communicate."
"Only because you too diligently avoided society capable of preventing you from following your study schedule," the Headmaster explained while the three of us climbed the stairs of the Main Tower motionless at this time. "And Professor Snape loaded you mercilessly."
"This will benefit Mr. Granger," Snape immediately made an excuse.
"I do not doubt," Dumbledore nodded. "Only all this together almost completely excluded any opportunity for young Miss Delacour to show her sympathy to you, Mr. Granger. And she tried to meet your eyes now and then, pass a note or something else."
Starting to analyze memories discarded due to insignificance, found confirmation of Dumbledore's words.
"Of course, Miss Delacour's younger sister was supposed for the role of 'kidnapped', but by a joint decision at the pedagogical council it was accepted that you are suitable for this role. Miss Delacour's parents decided that since there is an alternative, let it be so. Madame Maxime supported them. And our Minister was glad, immediately agreeing, not asking anyone. Like Mr. Crouch. And they are the organizers."
"And you?"
"Host of the event," Dumbledore chuckled.
We reached the Headmaster's office, and the view opened to me... Ambiguous. Everything in scorch marks, black web of burnout on stones, walls, cabinets. Disorder and completely absent windows.
"Not bad," I examined the scene.
"Your doing," Snape nodded, and the Headmaster went to his desk.
"Must praise you, Mr. Granger," the Headmaster began, "for incredible reaction, quick analysis and instant decision with no less instant release of magic. Praiseworthy skills."
"I try every day," I nodded. "By the way, honestly, I assumed that at today's..."
"Already yesterday's," the Headmaster corrected.
"Good. At the pedagogical council, I assumed, you would decide on my admission to the Restricted Section."
"This issue was also decided, but there is no unequivocal decision yet. Hmm..." Dumbledore thought, leaning his hands on the table. "And you know, as compensation for the shock and inconvenience caused, I will approve your admission. Only..."
Dumbledore looked at Snape.
"Severus. Please compile an exact list of topics and literature to which Mr. Granger will receive access, in accordance with his wishes to become a Healer. From myself I will also add those books to the list that I know about."
"And who compensates for the pogrom?" Snape asked. "Personally, I will not deal with this."
"Who came up with everything, compensates. The Ministry earns very significant money anyway, like Fudge himself. And you, Mr. Granger, as I know, interested Malfoy Senior. Think, through him Severus will convey the necessary thoughts to the Minister."
"Okay, Headmaster," I smiled. "Cast what needs. Only..."
I held out the backpack back.
"Let it stay with you. Don't know how the underwater situation will affect. Suddenly merpeople will find the thingy interesting. And the thingy bites notably. In water can caress many. Will be offended, put me on pitchforks, and that's it."
"Reasonable decision," Dumbledore accepted my backpack. "And I already had the pleasure to see the result of the protection work on your backpack. Very amusingly and interestingly implemented."
"Thank you."
I sat on one of the surviving armchairs.
"Let's proceed."
"Well..." the Headmaster took out his wand. "Ready?"
"No."
"Wonderful," Dumbledore pointed his wand at me. "Somnus..."
And darkness. Again.
. . . . . .
Pansy stretched sweetly in the damnably comfortable bed, casually bumping Daphne and receiving a similar, only intentional, shove in the shoulder.
"Oh, Daph..." she drawled, squeezing her eyes shut blissfully. "I had such a dream... Such a dream..."
"Uh-huh, she had a dream..."
There was something wrong in Daphne's intonation, and Pansy immediately opened her eyes, sitting up in bed and throwing off the blanket.
"What's wrong?" she looked sluggishly at her friend, still half-asleep. "What don't you like about my dream? You didn't even see it."
"A dream?" came Millicent's voice. She was already awake, and judging by the fact that she was dressed, combed, and generally represented the very model of a chubby girl who flatly refused to lose weight, she had woken up a long time ago. "If I understood what you're talking about, it wasn't a dream."
"But how... He... Right from the ceiling. Apparition in Hogwarts... A dream!" Pansy nodded importantly, gradually blushing. Apparently, she understood how indecent it all turned out. "And where is he?!"
Pansy looked around, but Hector was nowhere. Unfair. Looking to the right, Pansy saw Daphne sitting on the bed in a nightgown, holding a single rose. Translucent, made of ice, just like those flowers that grow in an ice pot in the nook with Greengrass's personal things.
"Yours are there," Daphne nodded somewhere to the side.
Pansy turned to the nightstand on her side and saw a small bouquet of ordinary roses and a note.
"How..."
"Milly told me everything. Including your idea," Daphne turned to Pansy and smiled predatorily.
"Oops..." Pansy tried to make an innocent face, but that didn't work on Daphne. "You giggled and kicked too much."
"Rea-a-ally?"
"Definitely," Pansy nodded importantly, took the note, and quickly read it. "Oh, he... Oh, he!!! Scoundrel!!! Why I oughta... I'll give him..."
"Judging by appearances," Millicent smirked, standing by a small bookcase and picking out fiction for today. "You already gave him, and you did this and that to him..."
"Oh, screw you guys!" Pansy pouted, reaching for the bouquet, simultaneously blushing again. "Nothing..."
At that moment, she felt Daphne lean slightly on her from behind, grinning maliciously.
"Look at you, huh?" Greengrass bared her teeth. "How long have I lived in the same room with you, and didn't even suspect who you actually like."
"I don't like him!"
"Well, well... Deceiving friends isn't good. Oh, not good!"
Daphne deftly knocked Pansy onto the bed, starting to quickly and skillfully tickle her with her thin fingers.
"Aa-a-ah! Ha-ha-ha... No! Mama-ma-ma-ma! He-e-e-elp!"
"You'll learn, ha-ha!" Daphne showed the dominant traits of her character. "And I'll still come up with a punishment for you."
"No-o!"
"Yes! And do you know why? Because he saw, heard, and remembers everything! Milly is an excellent spy, even if you wouldn't say so by looking at her."
"No way!" Pansy opened her eyes in shock, staring at Daphne while she stopped the execution.
"Didn't you understand from the note? About the Prince?"
"Oh, I'm stupid!"
"Just haven't woken up... Let's continue. This is for sleeping on Hector's shoulder..."
"No-o-o! A-a-a... Ha-ha-ha! I won't do it again! Probably..."
"What? Well, hold on!"
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