Episode 9. Part 2

Episode 9. Part 2

***

- And everything was going so well..." Harold howled wistfully, sitting on a bench in one of London's squares.

- "Studying is more important than quidditch." "Sports are stupid," Dudley Granger mocked. - And as soon as Sue called for the championship with her, she took off, and we were the only ones to see her. - The cousins had just lost their safe haven. They weren't kicked out, no. The Grangers had offered to stay, but without Hermione (whom Abbott and Bones had invited to the Quidditch World Cup, and who, after apologizing to her friends and accepting the invitation, had fled), it was unseemly to stay as a guest. So the brothers sat there, wondering where they should go. There must have been someone waiting for them in Spain, and blocking off the house was not an option. It was one thing to run away from everyone, and quite another to ignore everyone. The second had more consequences. Black Manor had a mad Bellatrix and a stubborn Sirius with a migraine. Harold somehow managed to cope with both of them, and to calm Walburga down as well, but all at the cost of a lot of cousins' nerve cells, because Dudley had to calm his brother down, and so he suffered too. And Bella's strange maternal instincts were so new to Harry that he felt out of place. To the Flamel's, he shouldn't have either. The cousins had no doubt that their ancestors would surely come up with something out of the ordinary, and Potter would have to take the fall again. After all, they were the ones who had started the meeting of the International Confederation of Mages to recognize their grandchildren's full rights as adults. Either Sirius, Theo, or the twins must have been waiting for them at their favorite inn in Merlin Square. Harold had been afraid to check into Muggle inns since the incident last year. He knew the leader of his former gang was long in the grave, but he was still afraid. That, by the way, was another reason they went to the gym.

- Hey, why don't we see where that "in case of emergency" portal the goblins got you for your thirteenth birthday out of one of the safes leads? - Dudley suggested. - We can do magic now, so we can stand up for ourselves... - Yeah. Especially if we're up against grown-up warlocks and dragons and giants and all sorts of other stuff, we'd be pretty good at dying heroically," quipped the Little Boy Who Too Many Times Too Little Dawg. - Heroically stupid suicide is exactly the style of the Pied Piper.

- You know, I think we came up with the stupidest name for our secret club that we could, and I don't understand why the guys went along with it," Potter's brother hummed thoughtfully as he switched topics with pleasure, admitting that it was still a better name than "Marauders. - And I think you can do anything you want. Go on, pull your chain. Dudley held out his hand to his cousin, firmly, without hesitation, and Harry decided that he wouldn't mind following in the footsteps of his brother's crazy ideas, which he didn't often express. Sometimes you wanted to step into the unknown. Magic offered such a chance...

***

- Well, what is it? - Harold said as he found himself and his brother on a small island, with a fortress on one side and what looked like an overgrown garden on the other. The fortress had thick walls without roofs, narrow windows that looked more like loopholes, and not a hint of any semblance of glass. From the shore you could hear the whistling of draughts or the howling of ghosts in the empty stone military structures.

- A Dark Age sea fort?! - Dursle speculated doubtfully. His brother was amused:

- Potter Manor, would you?

- More like a new building of Azkaban? - Dudley picked up on his cousin's mood.

- But, anyway, for modern people, even wizards, this building is quite unsuitable," said Dursle in frustration. - No, let's take a walk," Harold interrupted him. He could sense that all around him breathed magic... And what was their surprise when they passed through the wooden gate of the fort, one wing of which was dangling on one hinge, and the other was rotting on the ground, and they found themselves in the hall of the most luxurious and comfortable house, and a good hundred housekeepers bowing to greet the young master. And how much the cousins laughed and cried when they realized that they were in Potter Manor...

***

- What do I see? Lord Potter himself! - Severus Snape exclaimed excitedly, then asked angrily: - Where's the fanfare?

- I, too, am glad to see you in good health, Professor Snape," Harold bowed his head slightly with a polite smile. - As you can see, my new status does not obviate the need for new textbooks," he complained. He and his cousin had only gotten out of the manor when they realized they hadn't had time to purchase supplies for the new school year. There was still time, of course, but after the Quidditch World Cup-they were sure there would be turmoil and panic in magical England for a while. There would be no time for supplies. But eating apples the size of Professor Hagrid's fist, grown by Potter Manor's housekeepers in the island's orchard, while reading the headlines, would be fine. So they made their way out to Cosa Alley, realizing how much of a fool they had been to procure what they needed in England when they ran into a master potter at Florish and Blots. The encounter, by the way, instantly attracted a lot of attention from the bookstore's customers. And this was the moment that Boy-Who-Can-Get-Wanted had been waiting a long time for. "By the way, Professor, you promised to help me understand the delicate art of potion-making, remember? I asked you once..." The cousins' beloved public chimed in, "Did Potter ask Snape for something?", "Snape promised to help Potter, did I hear right?!", "And they said Snape was a Ravener. But then Potter wouldn't have asked for his help," "Maybe he just doesn't know!", "Now let's see if Severus is as loyal to Dumbledore as he thinks he is." The social machine worked like a well-tuned Swiss watch, pushing the potter toward the right answer. He simply had no choice but to help the national hero and tell him immediately. Otherwise... The rumors had pancake hands, and Severus didn't need another trial.

He's a cheeky boy, but he's not Gryffindor-style, he's Slytherin-style. It was worth acknowledging. So through his teeth Snape muttered:

- Come to school, Potter. I'll make an appointment for you.

- Thank you, Professor," Harry pressed his hand to his heart in a feignedly subservient manner and bowed slightly again to hide a satisfied grin behind his long loose hair.

- Professor Snape, and I was going to ask you for an apprenticeship," Dudley decided to take the chance as well. But not even Severus Snape's double agent stamina could bear it. His face contorted with rage at the hated insolent, and he was about ready to unleash a completely uncultured scolding, subconsciously noting that he was overreacting to these two, but...

- Oh, that's right," Harold decided to help his adored brother, who really wanted an apprenticeship without exaggeration from the potion-maker's genius. - If I'm not mistaken, my cousin is the best in your subject in the course, if not in all of Hogwarts. I don't think you'll regret it if you decide to study him.

- Insolent brat..." And Snape suddenly realized that he... liked his altercations with Potter. He was unbearably arrogant, just like his father, but not as straightforward and thickheaded. He knew how to get to the heart without going over the edge, and tolerate insult, saving face and decent response, and his shortcomings to admit, presenting them as advantages. Potter's snakes could learn to pick on adults as equals. In fact, it seems that someone was doing just that. Hmm, maybe he was allowed to be Lord for a reason!

- It can't be helped," the impertinent man said. - I am, as you rightly pointed out, Potter. And insolence is in our blood. And yet, this brat," Harold jabbed his thumb across his chest, grinning merrily, "asks for your help, not respectfully perhaps, but as best he can. Believe me, my cousin and I think highly of your talents as a potionist. So high, in fact, that despite your disgusting character and awful way of teaching, we ask to study with you. We're no silks ourselves, either, so...

- Severus almost applauded, thinking that it was in vain that Fudge and the Wizengamot, recognizing the decision of the international confederation of mages without its head's signature as valid in magical Britain, hoped to use the national hero for their own purposes. This boy clearly will not allow himself to be manipulated. Especially since even Dumbledore made such, totally unsuccessful, attempts for three years.

- Very well, Potter. Let's see how long we can stand each other," Snape hissed sarcastically. - I expect you and your cousin on the second of September, at eight o'clock in the classroom. If you're even a second late, you can't count on being an apprentice.

- It was a pleasure to see you, Professor," the cousins bowed synchronously, pleased with the work done. However, the bows the potion-maker no longer saw: he hurried to hide, before the little, clearly fallen into the wrong department, snakes, ask him for something else.

Poor, poor Severus! He never realized that he had permanently overstepped his own prejudices and hatred for the son of his rival and beloved woman...

***

- Are you reading the latest issue of the Prophet? - Harry asked quietly as he entered one of the living rooms. Potter Manor was too big for two teenagers, so they only used one apartment for two, a couple of living rooms, the library, and the dining room. And they tried not to go into the rest of the house for fear of getting lost. So it wasn't hard to find the cousin Potter hadn't found in his room when he woke up. He was indeed reading the paper that Harry himself had read the night before, when the owls had brought it. A rush issue, that's why it wasn't in the morning, but after the championship was over...

- Harry, what will you do if Voldemort is reborn? - Dudley folded the paper and looked intently at his brother.

- Try to negotiate with him and stay neutral," Harold shrugged indefinitely. He hadn't thought about it. He tried not to think about it. He just knew he'd never thought of Voldemort as an enemy. It's just that in his first and second years, he'd gotten in the way and tried to kill himself, and long before that, a very tiny Harry had been frightened by the screams of his dying mother...

- He killed your parents," his cousin reminded him quietly.

- Yeah. That's sad," sighed the hopeful of magical Britain, taking a seat on his brother's couch. - But I didn't even know them, so they were strangers to me. But I have a wonderful brother, thanks to the Lord," he said with a thin smile.

- If your parents had been alive, you might have had brothers and sisters..." "History is not subject to the subjunctive mood. I have you," Potter interrupted his cousin firmly. He also tried not to think about what would have happened if his parents had been alive. Things might not have been as rosy as the orphan had imagined. James might not have accepted the Slytherin traits in his son. His mother might have regretted choosing Potter over Snape... And a lot of other unhappy options. Better this way. Better that they remain forever in the memory as good, loving people to each other and to their son, Harold. Otherwise, who knows what it would have been like?

- You seem to have made up your mind," said Dudley, surprised at his brother's quiet assurance at a moment when he himself was racked with a thousand doubts.

- I don't like it. But I'll help, like I always do. - Harry smiled and decided to change the subject:

- Do you think Malfoy or Nott were involved in this?

- We'll ask Draco and Theo. But I don't think so," said an appreciative Dursle thoughtfully. - It's not good for them to bring up the activities of the Eaters at all right now. No, the inner circle probably wasn't involved in the attack.

- I think so, too," Potter nodded. - But what's the point of the others putting on this show? To frighten the common folk? To warn them? Or to frighten the inner circle?

- Who knows..." Dudley shrugged. He couldn't answer those questions. He couldn't see past or present. The future, however, seemed to him belligerent and grim...

***

Notes:

I think it's blasphemous to correct such an authorial pearl as "pancake hands," just like "the ghost of Cheese Nicholas."