Episode 10. Part 4

Episode 10. Part 4

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- Potter, do you know how you're going to defeat your dragon yet? - dragging the Hogwarts champion into the broom closet, the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts was almost aggressively interested.

- What business is it of yours, Professor? - Harold played his surprise almost plausibly, then squinted, "I don't remember you being allowed to talk so openly about the test in the first round before it started.

- The false Grûm released his prey from his grasp: Potter was too shrewd, and therefore dangeroEpisode 10. Part 4us to him. But his Lord was demanding, and letting him down was scary.

- In any case, I have a plan, and you are preventing me from preparing for it," Harold almost escaped from his grasp, and then from the closest secret passage away from the questionable personality in every sense... And Barty Crouch Jr. clenched his fists powerlessly: if Potter died before his time, the Lord would be oh-so-unhappy with him...

***

- Madam Pomfrey, what about Dudley? - Trying to keep his cool, Harold asked the school nurse. His cousin became violently ill during class and soon lost consciousness. Potter was not released immediately, and so he could not visit his brother, or simply find out what was wrong with him.

- My boy, I'm afraid your suspicions were not groundless," Albus sighed sadly, clearly overplaying his hand. Harold instantly tensed: he suspected the worst.

- Your cousin was poisoned. But he must have taken the poison intended for you. Do you really want to be killed... Do you have an antidote?

- Potter asked the nurse coldly, but the headmaster answered again, "The poison is rare. The ingredients are difficult to obtain, or even illegal," Dumbledore paused to let Harry assess the hopelessness of the situation. After all, he, the supreme wizard of Wizengamot, was supposed to be the savior. He didn't get the reaction he was expecting, for the green eyes glowed with hatred. I'll try to get them, but you, Harold, must obey me...

For your own good and Dudley's..." Albus, who would do such a thing to a child? - Pomfrey unwittingly distracted the Headmaster from making eye contact with Potter, and he almost thought he could break through the magic that protected the boy's mind..."

"Anyone, Poppy," he sighed, hiding his displeasure. - There are too many foreign guests at the castle this year. I'm particularly worried about the wards of Death Eater Igor Karkaroff. There will be those in our Ministry who want to kill Harry, too. And the children of Voldemort's supporters are growing up.

- Albus turned to Harold again and tried to dissuade him from what he saw as undesirable liaisons. I would advise you to be more careful; they can only pretend to be friends..." But Lord Potter (and Harold suddenly remembered his status) suddenly grumbled coldly:

- "I must say that I underestimated you, Headmaster. I did not think that you would dare to directly harm a student of your own school.

- Albus staggered, unable to comprehend how the boy could have known.

- It's hypocritical of you to accuse my friends. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it sooner. And you don't want to kill me, you want to use me," he added a hiss to his voice.

- Only I don't want to become your puppet, so you decided to go all-in: influence me with my weakness, that is, by poisoning Dudley.

- Lord Potter! - the astonished nurse was genuinely indignant: Albus would never harm a child. She knew that for a fact!

- This is a serious accusation! How dare you..." But Potter didn't listen to her, radiating all the icy rage he was capable of. The green eyes glowed brightly with magic, Dumbledore knew that he had miscalculated and lost his last chance:

- What did you say, Headmaster? "I'll get the ingredients for the antidote if you'll listen to me, and it's for my and Dudley's own good"? So you poisoned my brother and hoped that out of fear of losing him, I would agree to do whatever you said?

- POTTER! - Poppy Pomfrey, enraged by these accusations, bellowed, but Harold, without his only deterrent, without Dudley, was already inexorably carried away. "It was not for nothing that when my name dropped from the Cup for the second and then third time, I mentioned that two people wanted me in the tournament, and only three had access to the Cup of Fire during the night: Professor Grimm, you and Ludo Bagman. Bagman is a gambler, he could lose to someone, and the winner could demand repayment not in money, but in favors. Professor Grum is your man to the bone," he said without mentioning that Grum was not Grum at all. Some trumps should have been saved for later.

- So it turns out that whichever of the three planted my name in the cup, there can only be two culprits. And, by way of exception, one of them is definitely you, because Grum wouldn't plant a name in the goblet on his own initiative. So either you did it yourself, or it was your order.

But you underestimated me again. I am the Lord," the Survivor Boy unknowingly assumed a truly Black-ish posture. - And though I didn't do it of my own free will, I had to learn to conform. Dudley is poisoned with a rare poison? Well, you're not the only one who can not only figure out what kind of poison it is and get the ingredients for an antidote, but also prepare it. For your information, Dudley and I have a mage grandfather, a fine alchemist and potion maker.

And yes, be glad that I'm already bound by a magical contract with the Cup, or I'd have me and Dudley homeschooled tomorrow. And you'll have to do your best not to make us students of Durmstrang or the Salem Institute starting next school year. - Potter, while the headmaster and nurse were coming to their senses from such conclusions, bypassed them to get behind the screen, straight to his brother's bed

. - Lord Potter, you can't go to him..." the nurse came to her senses, but it was too late. Harold put his arm around his unconscious brother and pulled him toward him:

- "I don't trust you anymore, Madam Pomfrey. Since you are a supporter of the Headmaster. And I'm taking my cousin home, and I'm taking him immediately!

- I'll expel you..." Dumbledore tried furiously to stop the cousins. Such a good plan - and again it's gone to waste. And because of whom? Because of a boy who fancies himself a hero! It was he, the great Albus Dumbledore, the second Merlin, who should have made Potter a hero. How daring this puppy... The mask of the good grandfather cracked quickly and this time definitively. But Harold already knew the man's true face:

- I repeat: you need me, not the other way around. Even if my inability to play in the Cup robs me of my magic, I will not be disappointed. I have learned to adapt to all kinds of difficulties. But you cannot expel me without the approval of the Board of Trustees, which, by the way, is made up of Lords who have long dreamed of removing you as headmaster. No doubt I can justify myself to them: don't forget, Headmaster, I have the right to leave the school at my discretion, as does my brother, also an emancipated adult.

And rest assured, I won't leave it like that..." Harold's avads flashed his eyes before he grabbed the chain and disappeared with his cousin from Hogwarts into the bluish vortex of the portal leading to Potter Manor.

It was only Madam Pomfrey's suspicious glance that helped Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore keep his magic under control. And yet, he thought annoyingly about how to renew contact with Frank Longbottom: he needed a new hero from now on...

***

- Harry, calm down. Dudley will be fine. You're just in time," Granny Renee whispered softly, hugging the young man and stroking him soothingly on the back. The storm was over, and Potter's recoil came in the form of a silent, wordless tantrum. It was coming to an end, too, though, and Harold was only sobbing, already wondering what the hell he'd snapped at - though it was clear which. Not at school, when he'd snarled at the Headmaster, but at home, when he'd contacted the Flammels with Ardo's help, and they'd shown up in the manor's living room. Harold had just explained what had happened, and Grandpa Nick had just hidden in the lab with Dudley in his arms, just as he had been swooped up. He didn't even remember Perrenelle hugging him.

- Everything's going to be all right. And if anything, we have the Philosopher's Stone. It's better than Bezoar.

- Potter took one last frantic breath and pulled himself together, pulling away:

- I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," he mumbled, hiding his eyes. But the old Frenchwoman just smiled understandingly. Don't worry, Harry. It's just your age.

- I don't want to go back to Hogwarts, to its nets..." complained Harold, climbing onto the sofa with his feet up, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his nose in them. Grandma Renee's warm and understanding smile was relaxing, appealing to trust. And he really didn't want to go back to school. At least not with his brother...

- You can't cancel the magic contract with the Cup," the old Frenchwoman shook her head sadly. She liked children, and so did her husband's idea of welcoming distant descendants into the family. They were both very worried when neither their children nor their grandchildren could use magic. And they blamed themselves, realizing that it was all because of them making many enemies. For all the generations of their descendants who had been deprived of magic, they, longtime aimless old men, felt it their duty to put the first descendants of mages, moreover, orphans, on their feet. Nicholas asked Harold for something else, but that was their business. And Perrenelle was simply worried about the children she felt were her own. - Trying to avoid that will kill you. And your death will kill Dudley.

- Then what do we do. How do we protect our brother?

- Harry understood it all, and so he clutched his head. Not only had he underestimated Dumbledore, but he had overestimated himself and Dudley's abilities. In fact, he was so used to relying on his foresight that he began to think that this gift would keep them both safe from all harm. A mistake that almost cost his cousin his life.

- Eat and drink only what your house elves make, Harry," Granny Renee advised him earnestly.

- I don't want you waiting to be cursed in the back and looking over your shoulder all the time, but you should still be more circumspect. I think that's enough to avoid such incidents. Anything more serious can be foreseen by your brother or calculated by you.

- She seemed to be about to say something else, but her tired husband came into the living room. Both Harry and Perrenelle instantly stood up to meet him. And their voices merged into one: - Oh, Nicholas, at last! - What's the matter with him?

- A most insidious poison," the great alchemist, creator of the Philosopher's Stone, sighed, calling to himself from somewhere a cloudy glass bottle of what was obviously very old, and therefore almost priceless, wine. He poured the drink into a glass that appeared in his hand thanks to the helpful housekeepers. It was only after he had taken a few leisurely sips, savoring and rolling the alcohol in his mouth, that he explained: "One can live and die with it for decades, and the known antidote only prolongs the time.

- Potter shook as soon as he heard this. But a new hysteria was prevented with just one warning and soothing look, by Nicholas himself:

- Calm down, Harold. Don't forget who I am. By the end of the week's rest Dudley will be as good as new," he promised, looking warmly at the relieved and settled on the soft, long-pile carpet, the named grandson. -

He's asleep now. - And after a few more sips of wine, he added: "It's time you should wait at home. And... I want to check you for potions, too.

- Okay," Potter replied hoarsely, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, blinking back tears of relief. - Thank you...

***

- Dud, are you okay? - Realizing that his cousin was awake, Harold asked sleepily, peering, in a way, into his habitually pale family face.

- Lousy, brother," Dursle replied, barely audible. Weakness throughout his body prevented him from speaking as well, but he felt a remarkably good night's sleep. But the sight of his haggard face looming over him worried him more than his own.

- I'm all right, I'm a fool. Why are you so painfully pale? Why the big bags under your eyes? You haven't looked like that since we almost got caught by the police..."

"You barely escaped, and you're worried about me," Potter smiled weakly. But he was waiting for an answer, and Harold gave up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. And the whole time you were asleep, I couldn't sleep.

- As always, you worry more than you should," Dudley's voice found strength and confidence.

- I've had you by my side most of the time I've been sick..." "Well, where would I be without you? - Harry grinned.

- Taking care of you gave me something to live for..."

"Idiot," Dursle rolled his eyes.

- Where are we?

- Don't you recognize our room in Potter Manor?

- What happened?

- Dudley asked. Harold sighed and told his brother everything that had happened after he had passed out, including the conversation with Dumbledore and the conclusions drawn from it. At the end of the story Dursle himself sighed, "I wish we had escaped to Salem...

***

- Don't be so hot, Harold!" exhorted his grandson, Nicholas Flamel, who was rushing into the Ministry in the name of revenge on some old stumps.

- Listen to a man of his wisdom: now you are not Albus's adversary! You are a teenager. And though you may be a national hero, don't forget that this is the reputation he made for you. Albus is an accomplished figure, and it is not for a brat like you to fight against him.

- I will not let that happen! - Harold growled furiously. He was really going for revenge, taking advantage of Lord Nott and Lord Malfoy's hatred of Dumbledore. He was sure that they would help by grabbing an opportunity to annoy the man, but Flamel somehow figured out his intentions and intercepted him at the very portal platform. And Nicholas held him tightly, somehow not allowing the magic of the named grandson to throw him off... However, the creator of the Philosopher's Stone himself could hardly contain his anger: he found in his cousins the remains of many half-decayed chemical compounds with magical components, that is, the remains of potions. Complex potions that only a master could brew. There were few of them in Britain, and only two men, one subordinate to the other, had the chance to make the Boy Who Survived with them. It was not hard to guess what Albus was trying to accomplish. And how fortunate that magic protected the cousins! Otherwise they would have been nothing but puppets...

He even had to give his grandchildren family artifacts that recognized in the environment potions with any properties in order to protect the descendants. Of course, Nicholas Flamel was angry at the man he had once worked with, and who was responsible for all of this!

And yet to retaliate the way Harold planned to do was foolish... Look: Revenge is a dish that is served cold. It takes time for the dish to cool, you understand? - Flamel explained patiently, relieved to see the light of understanding in his emerald eyes.

- Now he'll just crush you like a cockroach, like a miserable maggot on a piece of his bread. And he will play on your reputation as an ambiguous man. Think about it, all he has to do is "talk" about your interest in dark magic and you'll be remembered for everything. Don't think Hogwarts students don't tell their parents about what goes on at school. And those parents and their relatives make up eighty percent of the population of magical Britain! They'll remember that serpentine is considered a dark gift, that you were making yourself out to be the Dark Lord in second year. They'll attribute to you all the mysterious and dangerous school events and embellish them. And voila, you're no longer a national hero, but a rising and dangerous new Dark Lord. If they don't tear you up, they'll definitely do everything they can to ruin your life.

- I'll run away to Salem. I'll finish my schooling there," Harold snorted.

- Or to Spain. I like it there.

- But you can't get your revenge that way," Nicholas said with a sly squint. His named grandson, Survivor Boy, froze at the realization. And indeed: if they escaped, justice would never be done to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. And that was something I really didn't want.

- Well, what do you suggest? - Potter stopped struggling out of the alchemist's grasp and prepared to listen. Suddenly grandfather became the man, the magician that he was: a life-wise wily schemer who had survived many enemies and just enemies who wanted to get if not the secret of the Philosopher's Stone, then at least a prototype.

- Wait for the right moment," he advised. - Once he has lost his Golden Boy he will be looking for a new one. Probably one of your own age. It is unlikely he will try to recruit a new hero this year, because you are still the hero to society. But he will begin to prepare for it. He will begin to prepare the public, through the press, the Wizengamot meetings, and the International Confederation, and he will begin to drive wedges into the new "idol of light. Follow him with Dudley, but don't go into open confrontation. We can put pressure on whoever we need to without that. And remember, Albus is clever. But he's wrong too. You are the best proof of that," Nicholas smiled at the inspired Harold, ruffling his raven-haired locks.

- So be patient... Thank you, Grandfather...

***

- You're back at last! We were beginning to wonder where to find you! - Draco exclaimed in a way that echoed through the Chamber of Secrets. The Ratbots had all missed their meetings and their cousins in just a week and a half. Considering they'd disappeared without warning or word of warning, they were worried.

- Where were you? - Michael Corner asked with interest, but cautiously.

- And why wasn't he told? - Zabini squinted, resenting his suzerain. After all, he sincerely believed that, as a vassal, Potter had a duty to notify him of his absence.

- It's a long story," Dudley smiled at his friends, still feeling weak.

- We're in no hurry," Finch-Flechley remarked under consonant nods. And Harold recounted what had happened without any ulterior motives, having arranged it with Dudley beforehand. They didn't just need friends, they needed allies. They understood that now more than ever.

The cousins had not expected their confrontation with the Headmaster to be unanimously supported by all, and yet it happened. Even the younger Greengrass, Astoria, as well as Luna Lovegood, the newcomer to the club and the strangest of all, warmly supported the general outrage. Only Hermione was a little hesitant. But there was no choice between the headmistress and her first and best friends: the answer was one...

No one noticed Neville's strange brooding, and he decided he wouldn't tell the Pied Piper yet that he'd been summoned by the headmaster twice in the past ten days, and that he'd received a whole stack of letters from his family during that time. There was a rift brewing in the Longbottom family: Neville himself and his father, Frank, did not trust Dumbledore, while his mother, Alice, and grandmother trusted the head of Wizengamot wholeheartedly. The letters included directions from the ladies and a warning from his father, who gave his son his own choice. However, his father also sent Neville a ring warning of potions of trust, enmity, and submission in food and drink. And that ring, which the now official heir of the Longbottom family wore on his finger without removing, had already heated up four times...

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