Episode 4. Part 4

Episode 4. Part 4

***

- Harry Potter! Don't be a fool! Why die a horrible death when you can become my supporter and live? Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? - The One-Thing... I mean, the Voice from Alien-Neck, with his famous "dark side". - Together we can bring them back! And for this greatest miracle, all I ask is that you take a stone out of the mirror for me...

It is neither good nor evil. It is only the Power! The others are too weak and cowardly to achieve it. Yes, together we will do extraordinary things. Only...

- You know, if you'd suggested this to me three or four years ago, I would have considered it, and I probably would have," Harold interrupted the speaker. He didn't understand why, but he wasn't at all afraid of the supposedly mortal enemy that all of magical Britain feared. The voice of the Alien-Backbone seemed miserable to him. He seemed to have said something similar himself, though, something about having to lead a miserable life. And he didn't want to join this, so to speak, creature to become just as miserable. He didn't care that the creature had killed his parents. Harold was sure they would not commend him for his thirst for revenge. He didn't care about the hopes of the magical world either. He didn't feel obligated to live up to other people's desires. That wasn't why he'd come here... -But I've already formed somewhat different values now... -He didn't have time to understand anything...

***

- You weren't at breakfast, sleepyhead, so the Dark Arts defense exam is cancelled for anyone who hasn't passed it yet," Dudley said in a somewhat disgruntled tone, reading the latest press but watching his cousin's reaction closely.

- Yes?" he asked uninterestedly, pushing aside his plate of scrambled eggs that refused to go down his throat. - And why was that?

- The subject professor was found dead," Dudley said slowly. Harold would have fooled anyone, but not him. Dursle knew his brother hadn't returned to the tower until morning, and he knew where he'd been all night. - The Aurorat's preliminary conclusion was that he had been killed by his own fire spell, which he had failed to control... It seems that Professor Quirrell had many phobias... Professor Snape assumed that this time he was afraid of his own shadow and...

- It was bound to happen sooner or later," Harry hummed, yawning sweetly and not noticing Dud nodding to himself.

The exams were over and the students were lounging in the summer sun, indulging in relaxation and boredom. The cousins were no exception, and after breakfast they headed for their favorite spot by the lake. First, however, Dudley dragged his brother into an unused classroom and with three strokes of his wand habitually cast the wiretap protection spell they had learned during sparring in the mornings. And afterwards he asked bluntly:

- Harold, you killed Quirrell, didn't you? They say they only found his clothes and ashes..." The hope of the magical world grinned merrily, snapping his fingers and tossing a rather large and heavy scarlet stone into the air in his palm:

- The Philosopher's Stone... They say it can turn anything into gold. Shall we test it? - He smiled in excitement as he took the last of the blank parchment he had left from his backpack-size bag (his cousins carried them everywhere). He touched the sheet to the stone and let his magic shine through the crystal. The parchment shimmered, and a golden sheen began to spread from the stone. Harry took the parchment from the stone as soon as it turned gold and almost dropped the sheet: Gold in that quantity was a bit heavy even for his trained, but still childlike, hands. The boys leaned over the former parchment and whistled in unison: pure gold. - Dud, I guess we won't have to steal anymore. - Dudley rejoiced, honestly, as he watched his cousin hide a legitimate trophy in his backpack. Still, there was one thing they should have talked about a long time ago, but never dared...

- Harry, you killed Quirrell," Dursle stated rather than asked. He shuddered, adding, "And you killed my parents, too. Fire..." Fear and guilt were instantly reflected in the green eyes. Harold sat down on the desk, climbing onto it with his feet and rubbing his knees, pondering frantically while Dudley waited for an answer.

Yes, his cousin was no idiot. It was impossible in their lifetimes after that fateful day. Sooner or later he had to ask. But Potter dreaded that day all the same. Prepared for it and dreaded it, winding himself up. It wasn't that he feared hatred from his cousin or loneliness. It was just that he was used to Dudley. Used to taking care of his brother. Harry was afraid of losing his purpose in life because of it. What to say? He'd decided a long time ago that he would tell the truth:

- I hated Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," he admitted quietly, making Dudley flinch from surprise and from the tone in which it was said. - You know I had my reasons. Remember when your father beat me up the night before the fire because I ruined his coffee? - Dudley remembered. He remembered how glad he was that his father had put the bastard in his place. He remembered, and it made him feel ashamed. - Yes, I truly hated them. And I wished I'd run away from your house, wished they'd be punished for their abuse of me, wished they'd get what they deserved. But I never wished them dead, Dud. NEVER," the word was spoken harshly, but his voice remained quiet. Harold looked up at his brother, and he no longer saw fear in his eyes. But he saw sincere remorse. The rare emotion on Potter's face was never false. All that was enough for Dursle to breathe a sort of sigh of relief: If Harry had killed his kin, it wasn't on purpose. He didn't hear the answer to his question, though, so he continued to listen carefully. "That fire... Yes, it was my fault," Harold sighed painfully, tugging at his long, resinous hair as he pulled it tightly. - But I wasn't in control of the magic then, and I didn't mean them any harm at the time. Just as Uncle Vernon raised his voice, I remembered the morning before, remembered the pain the man had caused, and squeezed my eyes shut for fear of more corporal punishment. When I opened my eyes, they were on fire. Your parents. And there was no one left to scream. - Both cousins exhaled convulsively. Dudley, vividly imagining his parents' deaths, and Harry, remembering what it was like. - I didn't realize what happened, and when I dragged you outside," he finished the story, looking his brother in the eyes with a pained but hopeless look, "I'm sorry, Dudley.

- Is that why you cared so much for me, even though you didn't have warm feelings for me in the first year? - he asked unemotionally. At that time he had not yet tried to get wise and was entirely dependent on his cousin. So at sleepless nights he was very much afraid that his brother would leave him, and wondered why Harry still cared about him. There was something to leave him for, wasn't there?

- Yeah, I guess," Potter twitched. He didn't know what he was doing then, or why. But he didn't regret not leaving his brother behind.

Dudley was slowly realizing the expected and yet unexpected truth. And from the realization, he slowly sank back in his school chair, gripping his head with his hands. It took Harold almost an hour of lingering, agonizing minutes before his cousin spoke, having made up his mind:

- I would have blamed you and hated you. That's right," he looked at his brother, looking him in the eye with a very firm gaze. - Yes. I would have. If I hadn't turned out to be a mage myself. I... I need time to accept that. But I won't turn my back on you now..." he assured Harry, under a sigh of relief. - Not when we find out that Voldemort isn't completely dead, and that he wishes to avenge his demise on you. After all, he was indirectly involved in the death of my family, because if he hadn't killed your parents, you wouldn't have had to live with us, and so...

- Thank you," the hero of the magical world exhaled, awkwardly hugging his cousin. Hope seemed to have awakened in him as well...

***

Dumbledore was confused: Quirell was killed. The Philosopher's Stone was gone, and it was impossible to put beacons on this magical artifact. Plus, it wasn't Harry who had saved the stone and killed Voldemort either, because only one person, Quirrell, had gone through the obstacle course. The freshman simply couldn't have gotten around all the alarm spells and tracking systems in the forbidden corridor that he had put in place. For all that, Hermione Granger played her intended role perfectly without even knowing it. But the future hero of the magical world did not buy the adventure, it seems, believing in his, the headmaster of Hogwarts, power.

Of course, Potter said everything right to his girlfriend, but he, as a true Gryffindor, the hope of the magical world and son of his father should have done otherwise!

The head of the Wizengamot threw all his thoughts regarding this into the dumos, but no answers could be found. Something he had overlooked. Somewhere his calculations did not add up. He had to double-check everything urgently or next year's plans would also be a failure.

But that was not all the main reason for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's confusion and even frustration. The main reason was that he had missed an old friend's favorite toy! Of course, Flamel could make as many Philosopher's Stones as he wanted, but he did not share the secret of making them. He would never trust the Headmaster of Hogwarts with anything else. And that was sad, because he had plans for the Stone as well...

***

- Harry, Dudley, my boys, why didn't you tell me that you ran away from the orphanage four years ago, and lived alone all that time, without adult care or support? - Dumbledore, pretending to be a kindly grandfather, gave the cousins a gentle scolding, shaking his head and not noticing how the boys twitched at the phrase "my boys". - This isn't right. I've taken care of everything: the Weasley family, Arthur and Molly, have agreed to take you in for the summer...

- Not interested," Harold replied coldly and harshly, barely containing his rage and knocking Albus off his good grandfather mask. - Principal Dumbledore, I don't know how you found out, but... We took care of ourselves for three years. We learned how to make a living, too: food, clothes, and shelter. We have learned how to cook, do laundry, mend and heal. And we don't want to bother a family that is already struggling to feed five children. While the younger Weasleys, licked from head to toe by their mother, walk around in the older ones' rags, we have learned to save money and do without adult supervision, and we end up looking tidier than them," The Boy Who Survived bravely ignored his cousin's hand, which, with every word he said, squeezed his wrist harder, warningly, until it bruised and crunched. Albus was losing patience and composure. The image of the kindly grandfather was looking less and less believable in his performance:

- Harry, you probably don't know, I'm your magical guardian and I'm obliged to..." he tried to approach from the other side, but just one question asked in a venomous voice robbed him of his arguments:

- So where have you been all these years, Headmaster?

- I... I was sure you were all right," Dumbledore finally found himself.

- I saw you when the firemen were trying to put out the fire in which Dudley's parents burned. - Dursle flinched, but didn't dare get a word in edgewise, because in moments like that, moments of pure rage, his cousin terrified him. - I know you also visited the orphanage where we were placed afterwards. But you didn't bother to ask us personally how we lived there.

- Bravo, boy!

- A worthy young man! - The portraits of the Headmasters, who were tired of seeing Albus play, marveled.

Meanwhile, the old man sighed a couple of times to calm down, and almost calmly, heartfelt, with a magical suggestion, he spoke:

- Harry, my boy, listen to the old man, I mean well. And as your guardian, I insist...

- You have no right! - Harold sighed a couple of times, too, realizing that he could barely contain the magic that was bursting free: how dare the old man demand something, insist on something, after first leaving him in November on the Dursley doorstep, wrapped in one thin blanket, and then leaving him in a shelter where he and Dudley refused to be fed? No, he would not allow his hard-won freedom of choice to be taken away from him. Not now. - And if you keep pushing me, we'll apply for transfer to Charmbaton! I think they won't refuse to accept the hero of magical Britain and his cousin into their ranks of students, especially if we ask for citizenship. - The headmaster was at first taken aback, but quickly pulled himself together, smiling slyly and snidely:

- But, my boy, how will you get into France without adults? - he was sure he had cornered the boy. Except that the cousins hadn't spent so much time in the school library for nothing. They were getting to know the magical world that was still foreign to them, so they already knew a thing or two about it:

- As far as I know, the Night Knight Bus can take us anywhere in the world that isn't underwater. Or do you want to bend us to your will with Imperio? - Boy Who Survived raised his eyebrows, perfectly mimicking Severus Snape's famous gesture and Dumbledore's own snide, senile voice. He knew, of course, that he shouldn't have made the man angry, that it meant trouble, but, as always, he couldn't help himself.

- Harold James Potter, I give you a standing ovation! - said the wizard in one of the portraits, actually rising from the headmaster's chair and applauding, which echoed the other portraits. - You are not as hopeless as I thought you were. - For a moment, a childishly mischievous expression flashed across Potter's face, and he bowed in a picturesque way to the wizards in the living pictures, putting his hand to his heart. The rage had somehow subsided. Perhaps from victory? However, Harold thanked him gravely for the compliment:

- Thank you, Headmaster Black," Phineas Nigelus saluted him with his wine glass, accepting his thanks. The boy's attention turned to the already frustrated Albus, who was trying to hide his emotions behind fatigue. "So, Headmaster Dumbledore, do you still 'insist'?

- There's no need for such extreme measures, my boy," he grumbled, barely keeping his composure. - But are you sure you can take care of yourself? Magic is forbidden outside of school until you're of legal age, and...

- We'll be at Hogwarts on September 1st," Harry interrupted him. - He looked intrepidly into the blue eyes behind the half glasses for a moment, but when he was certain he would not be told anything else, he wished him well, almost politely," he grabbed his cousin by the arm and dragged him out of the Headmaster's office, fearing being hit by a stray Avada.

***

- Harry, you almost made a much more serious enemy than Voldemort," Dudley said quietly, looking at his cousin as he struggled to recover. He was breathing heavily and frowning.

- I know, Dud. But I don't know what came over me," he sighed.

- We could have gone to the Weasleys' house and gotten away with it.

- It would have made a lot of noise," he didn't like the idea. In his opinion, it would only be wealthy if the Weasleys chased them away. And if they were the Headmaster's men, that would be hard to achieve. Besides, as they found out, the Malfoys and the other "purebloods" didn't consider the redheaded family "blood traitors" for nothing. - And I don't want Dumbledore to have any illusions about me. - Dudley sighed, too. When it came to their freedom, his cousin was unbreakably stubborn. It was like insanity, and it first manifested itself in the orphanage. They'd only managed to escape on the fifteenth time, when Dudley didn't have much hope, and didn't really want to...

They would have pondered the subject longer if it hadn't been for the magical flash that occurred in... Harold's robe pocket. Trying to figure out what it could be glowing purple in his pocket, Harry slipped his hand into it and pulled out... a short note that read:

"I hope you won't keep the stone for dust, but you'll use it to your advantage.

Your new friend,

Nicholas Flamel."

End of the first year