Standing on a small hill and watching our guys say goodbye to the guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, I recalled the just-passed award ceremony, as well as Dumbledore's words...
...The award ceremony was the first thing the morning at Hogwarts began with. Assuming, of course, that an ordinary day starts with breakfast as a general event. Many, including myself, expected to see some kind of festive atmosphere or something similar. At least big and bright school flags, like at dinner yesterday, but no. Everything was quite gloomy, the flags were lowered, and the illusion of the sky on the ceiling was completely deactivated—perhaps for almost the first time we saw this ceiling as it is, and because of this, the Great Hall began to resemble similar halls in Catholic churches or monasteries even more.
Our Heads of House gestured us to stand along the house tables, and so, standing, we waited for the appearance of Dumbledore and the other teachers.
The Headmaster stood at his podium, decorated with an animated gilded owl, which did not spread its wings as usual—it remained motionless.
"Today," the Headmaster began to speak, and everyone, including students from other schools, fell silent, listening, "the magical world has suffered an irreparable loss. Durmstrang Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, was a distinctive, extraordinary, but talented wizard..."
I mentally chuckled at how correctly and neutrally Dumbledore spoke, and there was no special sadness in his gaze. Just a little, but he showed, allegedly, universal sorrow. He can be understood—the Headmaster of another school was not just killed, but crucified and burned on our territory. Only a blind person would not have noticed several Ministry workers and Aurors who were practically digging the ground with their noses—for this it was enough just to look out the window facing the Lake and the ship.
While I was thinking, the Headmaster finished his neutral and short speech, mentioning that the joint forces of the ministries of two countries are taking all measures to investigate this incident.
"...however, I can declare with all certainty," Dumbledore continued to speak, "that I know exactly who is behind this nightmarish and inhuman murder, and you, and especially the students of Durmstrang, have the right to know this. Headmaster Karkaroff was killed by the servants of Lord Voldemort on his personal orders."
A quiet murmur swept through the rows of students, and I closely watched the reaction of those around and the Headmaster himself. Such a statement, of course, is very resonant and seems absurd. I want to say that Dumbledore has finally completely lost his mind, only I strongly doubt that he is capable of going crazy in principle. But what is much worse is that there is a clear understanding in my head—Dumbledore has no need to lie. Not a bird of that flight to stoop to petty lies.
"...both ministries waved away my information and do not wish me to speak about this," the Headmaster broadcasted, and everyone listened, albeit some with disbelief on their faces. "But I believe that concealing such a thing from you, friends, is extremely wrong. Let us honor with a minute of silence..."
And honored. Only after that Dumbledore started a much more positive speech about the Tournament, friendship and so on, in the style of: "But, nevertheless, life goes on, let us rejoice...". The award ceremony went in a much more positive direction, although Minister Fudge, who was present here personally, and personally handed a thousand Galleons to Cedric, looked daggers at Dumbledore. It seems the Minister really did not want any disclosure of information, but at the same time did not refute the Headmaster's words in his fiefdom.
In general, after all this, breakfast itself began, actually, and it differed from others by a great abundance of various dishes.
"Hey, Hector," Justin couldn't just sit and eat, actually, like many other students. "Do you think the Headmaster told the truth?"
"About what exactly?" today I decided to eat exclusively sweets for breakfast, fortunately there were plenty of them. Just a whim like that. And also, I made a nest out of a scarf, where I put myself... Merlin, how absurd it sounds, actually, but the question is perceived exactly like that—a black ruffled chick sat in the nest, slightly covered with cloth, and gobbled up everything you give him. Omnivorous creature.
"Well, I'm about You-Know-Who. The Headmaster said he returned."
"That could well be," I nodded, and the understanding of this fact instilled some fears.
"And what to do now?"
"Many options," I shrugged. "From banal flight from the country, to hellish training to protect oneself."
"I don't think," Ernie chuckled, "that You-Know-Who returned, and if he returned, then, again, I doubt that there will be something... Terrible."
"In any case..." thinking, I picked at the cake with a spoon. "Hmm... He will need to recruit supporters again, or rescue his own from Azkaban. I doubt that the latter retained remnants of sanity. This could be a problem. Any activity needs money. This is not fast. The question is whether he will gain political weight, or go all out? He himself, of course, will not run here and there, creating chaos—not his level. But taking all sorts of rabble and marginals under his wing, all sorts of oppressed and others... The same werewolves."
"Still," Ernie shook his head, and other guys from magical families treated the Headmaster's words with extreme skepticism. "Think there is a lie somewhere here. How can one be reborn having died?"
"Magic, Ernie. It is limitless. If we don't know something, it doesn't mean it's impossible."
"And what to do?" Justin couldn't resist asking.
"Don't know yet. If information about the past activities of the Dark Lord and his gang is correct, then get out of here. Or organize protection of housing and relatives."
"But mine are—ordinary people."
"Like mine."
This conversation made everyone think, and I myself began to think about protecting housing. Parents will definitely not want to leave anywhere—here is their home, business, history, whole life. Means need to create defense. Even if there are no Dark Lords, nothing will be and happen, then protection is needed in any case. It's like in the ordinary world—alarms, special services and so on. Only here, it seems to me, one should not cherish special hope for the protection of DMLE and Auror Office. The former—work post factum, solving crimes. The latter, ideally, hunt crazy Dark Wizards and stop what is Dark Magic from the point of view of the law. And protection... It seems in the magical world, the rescue of drowning people is the work of the drowning people themselves, and no one owes anyone anything...
...And now, standing on a hill and watching a bunch of students get into carriages, say goodbye to guys from other schools who have a journey on their vehicles back to their schools, or wherever they planned, I thought about protection. Need to think hard over the summer about protecting parents both personal and place of work. And strengthen home protection, fortunately forging artifacts phenomenally reduces energy costs, since the creation method is not local, but dwarven—they should work even with a severe energy shortage.
Another question—it is not a fact that all sorts of Dark Lords will create chaos. Banal truth—history is written by winners. Far from a fact that all those nightmarish acts took place, and if they did, they may well be presented in a completely different light. Do I want to figure this out? No. But need to make it so that they don't want to nail me and my family for fun—and according to general information, all sorts of Eaters sometimes "indulged" themselves with such things. I think there is a reserve of time.
Brushing aside unpleasant thoughts, adjusted the strap of the backpack behind the shoulder with a hand, grabbed the nest made of a scarf more comfortably, where the black phoenix slept, and went to the general crowd of guys to say goodbye to students from other schools.
Handshakes, friendly smiles, handshakes again—nothing unusual. Of course, impossible not to say goodbye to Romanova.
"Well, that's it," she chuckled, adjusting the cape over her uniform.
"What can I say," I smiled. "Practiced well. I learned a lot of new things."
"Oh, likewise. And who is this?" she pointed her hand at the sleeping phoenix.
"Hell knows," I shrugged. "Found, he pecked me until I bled, and now, it seems, we are connected."
"Not often this happens," Romanova smiled, leaning down and examining the chick closer. "Usually establish a connection with an animal for quite a long time."
"And do you have someone? I mean an animal."
"Not yet," she shook her head negatively. "And your sister seems to have a half-kneazle."
Romanova nodded to the side. Looking there, I noticed Hermione—she communicates with other students, holding her overgrown ginger cat in her arms. Well, not particularly overgrown, but certainly larger than ordinary individuals.
"Looks like it. Although, she generally loves various cats very much."
McGonagall began to urge everyone to get into carriages already and let students from other schools go—time does not wait.
"Write if you pass through Russia," Romanova smiled.
"Definitely. Only the country is not small. There you can be passing through anywhere and not at all near your home."
"Then, need specifics?" the girl smiled. "Moscow."
"Got it. Well and you write if you are in London."
Romanova moved away to other girls from Durmstrang and began to actively discuss something with them. I went to the French, who were already slowly getting ready to load into the monstrous carriage—Hagrid had already harnessed huge pegasi. Naturally, Fleur noticed me almost immediately and came up to say goodbye.
"Monsieur Granger," she looked at me with a smirk and interest in her eyes. "First of all, I want to say that at the end of summer I am moving to England."
"Oh, unexpected."
"Yes," Delacour nodded, folding her hands on the skirt in front. Still, their uniform emphasizes too much... Emphasizes everything. "I planned, as they say, to go into free swimming—an offer came to intern at Gringotts. But father suggested dealing with financial issues on... hmm... new land. This seemed very interesting to me—to expand the business as much as possible in a few years."
"So, will engage in bought business?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Also father wanted me to become a trusted person in working with you... And I have no idea what you are working on. Assume father will contact you so that we can conclude an agreement."
"I'll think about it. Definitely."
"Well that's great," Fleur nodded joyfully and hugged me—barely managed to move the nest with the phoenix aside.
Pulling away, Fleur looked at the bird with interest, but did not ask about anything. Waving her hand in farewell, she went with a couple of friends to the carriage. A moment, and they already disappeared inside. Cute.
Ride in the carriage, boarding the train—routine. Pity only that my carriage reached the Hogsmeade platform one of the last, which means difficulties may arise with finding free seats.
Entering one of the cars, I moved along the compartment, looking for a free one or at least one where there were guys familiar to me. And if there were no problems with the latter, then with more or less free compartments everything is not so rosy. Just I would like to take a nap, for establishing a connection with the phoenix tired me slightly.
After a couple of minutes of measured walking through the cars, I found a completely free compartment. Immediately entering inside, transfigured a table with a small niche and a pillow from the air. In the niche on the table I put the nest with the sleeping phoenix, and placed the pillow on the seat by the window. Lay down, closed eyes and began to think. Or maybe it just seemed to me that I was thinking—didn't notice myself how I fell asleep.
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