Episode 10. Part 9

Episode 10. Part 9

***

- Girls, back off, huh! You've got to be kidding me! - Harold whimpered, with little hope of getting rid of the girls of his secret club. As soon as he was back to normal and back to class, the cousins were literally bombarded with the attention and curiosity of Hogwarts students, and not just them, but also teachers and even ministry officials. "What was wrong with you?", "What were you doing in Charmbaton's carriage?", "Are you all right?", "Harry, how did you do that? How did you get Dudley and Gabrielle out of the bottom?", "That was amazing, Potter!", "Dudley, why didn't you tell me that with Harold?", "Are you and Fleur\Riona serious?", "Forge and I had a bet: did you sleep in little Fleur's room or not?", "Dredd and I knew you were our man! So bathe Dumbledore..." and so on. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of questions. Among others, there were reporters' questions. And Harold only managed to get away from the attention by giving several interviews in which he answered the most popular questions. Well, afterwards... he just ran off to his beloved Chamber of Secrets. Except that the abandoned Dudley, who had also suffered from excessive attention, got his revenge on his cousin by leading the Pied Pipers into the dungeons. He was a bit more exacting in his answers... The girls had been probing him for injuries, which the unsociable Harold was not happy about. Especially because it was happening to Dudley's laughter. The real celebrity had considered breaking out again, this time to Potter Manor, and if they didn't let up there, to Salem, but... He tried his best.

It took a while to calm his friends down, but he did. And now he was lying on his favorite leather sofa, forged from something, lazily looking at a map of Hogwarts and the surrounding area. Suddenly a single dot, moving along a strange trajectory, caught his attention. Bartemius Crouch seemed to wander aimlessly around the edge of the forbidden forest, as if in search of something. Harold was somehow alarmed by this. During the war with Voldemort, Bartemius had been the head of the Department of Magical Law and Order, and had wanted to be a minister, but after some shady story, he left for another department. What was he snooping around the Forbidden Forest? It was suspicious and worth checking out. So while his friends were discussing something, he quietly called Ardo's personal elf and asked to be taken to the border of the forest...

***

- Where am I?" was the first thing Bartemius asked when he woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. A fancy bed, a large room flooded with light, stucco on the ceiling...

The man was frightened by what one decision he had made, brought on by a heartfelt weakness for the dying beloved woman, and so he was indifferent to the change of environment, to the absence of the familiar Imperius for the past month and the angry house elf in supervision...

- In Potter Manor, Mr Crouch, - his question was suddenly answered. Crouch heard footsteps, and then saw the green eyes of the teenager familiar to every wizard in Britain. - I found you on the border of the Forbidden Forest. You were... insane," Harold explained cautiously. - You were begging someone's forgiveness. And the next moment, it was as if you were at work. Then you recognized me and called out for Dumbledore. And then they were lost again. I'm sorry, I don't trust the Headmaster, so I didn't inform him or Madam Pomfrey. A bit presumptuous, but I thought I could help you myself. I called a personal elf, and here we are..." "Thank you for your help," his voice was hard to hear, but he got a muffled and sincere thank you. But, Lord Potter, you are in danger..." "What, enemies again? I'm always in danger, Mr. Crouch. I'm always in danger, Mr. Crouch. "I'm used to looking over my shoulder," Harry grinned bitterly.

- No, you don't understand," Bartemius, being of age, pondered whether to clarify or ask for a connection with the Ministry, and... But no, that would be a disgrace, a second blow which he would not survive. And Potter had a right to know, if only for saving his life: -I think you saved my life, so I'll tell you. Just please don't turn him in to the Aurorat. Kill him..." And the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation told the story of his own family. About the son who betrayed his father's ideals, about the beloved woman who defended her son to the last and, even when deathly ill, chose to give her life for him, and about her last request. And then he explained what happened in the present...

- So," Harold, however, was not at all surprised by the story, as if he suspected such a thing. There was not a trace of judgment in his eyes, but there was something different about children. - So, at your wife's request, you rescued the Eater's son, keeping him under Imperius and the cloak of invisibility. At the Quidditch championship, taking advantage of the hype, he escaped and most likely created a mark in the sky, which rattled everyone. You don't know if the impersonators were involved in Barty's escape. But you're sure now that his escape is connected to the newspaper article about the attack on Grum's house. Now you recognize the false Grum, by one habit -- the habit of licking -- as your son. - Crouch nodded confidently. - Well, I won't turn him over to the Aurorat, the Ministry, or the Director, but if he turns himself in, I won't prevent his apprehension. - The head of the Department of International Cooperation nodded again: it was reasonable, and that was all he could ask for.

- You are not surprised," he remarked.

- I won't reveal my sources, but I knew there was someone else hiding under the guise of Grum. Thank you, you've helped the picture in my head to come together. My cousin and I lacked only one detail: knowledge of Grum's true identity," Potter shrugged. Crouch was itching to ask what sort of picture he had, but he knew that he could not be trusted, and therefore he would not get an answer. Instead he decided to ask another question: "The night the Cup chose the champions, you said that two of them wished you were dead. I understood that you meant Dumbledore and Grum, because Bagman wouldn't risk it, because he's clumsy now, and would probably get caught by the professors on duty. But why Dumbledore?

- I refused to become his puppet, even at the risk of my cousin's death," Harold grinned crookedly. - 'He doesn't need that kind of hero. I'm a hindrance to some of his plans," he sighed and changed the subject, "But, it doesn't matter. You are weak because of your struggle with the Imperius, and I invite you to stay with me," Potter bowed his head slightly in a semblance of respect. - I don't think you should be in the public eye until after the tournament. Your son, kept you in the same conditions as you kept him, and sent letters to your assistant. Everyone thinks you have health problems, and considering how much effort you've given to the cause, no one is surprised. I don't think your son would set you up. And Percy Weasley can handle it. I suggest you get your strength up and just get some human rest," Harry smiled, and Crouch saw the sincerity in his wish. Somewhere deep inside him his long stale heart suddenly felt a deep gratitude for Potter. Because only his wife had cared for him like that. - My elves will look after you, provide what you need, and through them we can keep in touch. Anything you need, just let me know. Toro. - He called out to a middle-aged elf in a beautiful tunic with the family crest on it. He bowed respectfully to his host and then to Crouch, making an extremely favorable impression on the man. - Take care of your guest and see that he needs nothing," Potter ordered sternly. The elf bowed again:

- Yes, Lord. - And turned to Bartemius: - Call Thoreau, Master Crouch, if you need anything. - With these words he disappeared with a clap, and a second later a glass of water appeared on the nightstand. Crouch suddenly realized how terribly thirsty he was. But he barely had the strength to lift his arms. And to hold the glass... Good thing the attentive Potter helped.

- You'll be better by evening, Mr. Crouch, and you can do everything yourself," he promised. - Then you can take a walk through the house and garden. Toro will give you the tour..." "Potter," Crouch interrupted his host, reminding him of his own worries, "my son is a Ravener. I don't know what he has in mind. You are overconfident if you think you can handle this alone.

- I am not alone, Mr. Crouch," Harold smiled thinly. - I have a brother, a girl, a whole team of friends, godparents. - Crouch even grinned, realizing that the guy had mentioned godparents for a reason. So he was hiding crazy Bella. But since she was no longer committing horrible atrocities like she had in the past, Bartemius didn't care about that. And it would have been too hypocritical of him to accuse her of harboring fugitive criminals. - And fighting evil is my mission, which I once, when I was a year old, was assigned, including you... - The man covered his eyes, thinking that mistakes are inherent in the human being, and that the powerful (among which the young man with the amazing green eyes was unwittingly included) will still make a lot of mistakes... And how good that he finally had a chance to rest and think about them...

***

- Mr. Dursle, Mr. Potter, what are you doing here? - Minerva McGonagle asked sternly, finding her two students where they weren't supposed to be.

- Here for apparatus lessons, apparently," Harold twitched the corner of his lip, displeased at the delay. The Dean of the Gryffindor Faculty," she said, alarmed, "You're not seventeen.

- But you will be someday," Potter retorted. - We have invitations to classes signed by the Minister. - Minerva caught on at once: Harold must have taken advantage of his status as Lord and his fame to press the Minister for these invitations for himself and his brother. Dudley, by the way, had shown them, and she was convinced of their authenticity. But Fudge, for some purpose, such as to bribe the trust and support of a generic hero, showed a rare indifference to other people's lives, willing to go over their heads. And yet the apparatus of even adult, experienced wizards often ended miserably.

No, she understood that the boys wanted to learn faster. This was especially something that children raised by Muggle children, for whom moving through space instantly was a dream, wanted to learn. It had always been a problem for them, or they wouldn't have invented the huge scary self-flying things.

Minerva tried to soften her tone and explain as calmly and thoroughly as possible why learning to apparate now, to children who question everything generally accepted, Potter and his cousin, shouldn't: - Harold, Dudley, you do realize that these lessons aren't given to junior classes because of juvenile status. Apparition is a very specific process and a child's body is not ready for it. It can disrupt growth and... - Dear Dean! - Dursle interrupted her, making her pursing her lips in displeasure. She had grown accustomed to the habits of the two of them in four years, though, and she listened, "We have great respect for you, and appreciate you, and love you. It's true. - McGee's cat sensed sincerity and was flattered, but she knew this was another attempt to contradict her and didn't buy it: "We understand that you want to keep us safe. But-I want you to believe me-we're not going to these classes to learn how to perform apparatus like everyone else.

- What do you mean? - She asked bewildered. Dudley shrugged and began to explain, kicking his cousin to keep quiet and contain his irritation. "Bem told us-he's Nigerian, you know-that in his country, tribes who try to preserve traditions and avoid civilization move through space differently. It doesn't make you sick or dizzy or... horrible things happen. - McGonagle cocked an eyebrow skeptically (unconsciously copying Snape), because if that were true, everyone would move that way. - The technology Bem, unfortunately, does not know, only vaguely. So we decided to experiment. It's better to do it under the supervision of experienced wizards, you'll agree. - Minerva chuckled: this boy knew the right approach to her, definitely. - If it doesn't work out this year, we'll come back next year. And so until, in seventh year, we learn to apparate like everyone else.

- Experiments can be dangerous," she shook her head.

- Come on, Professor, don't pretend you haven't noticed that I don't conjure like everyone else," Potter inserted mockingly, which was outrageously disrespectful. A few times, though, she did see Potter witchcraft, thinking she couldn't see. No wand, no spells, like a mage of antiquity intuitively sensing how to control the gift. She had noticed it long ago, secretly watched it, and hoped that the average educational program, designed for average and weak wizards, would not crush this skill. And for good reason: lately it seemed to her that Harold was becoming more reluctant to use his wand every month. After all, what was his naked power demonstration without guides in the second round of the Tournament?

Somehow it seemed to her that these two cousins, could greatly advance the magical world, necessarily together. So, despite the responsibility for their lives, she was willing to turn a blind eye to all their walking violations and experiments like this.

When she skipped the children's lessons, she could not have imagined that by the fifth class both cousins would have moved into drawn circles without a wand, without spells, without spinning around their axis, unharmed, without any signs of dizziness or nausea or any change in their bodies at all. Even more so, she didn't count on the two of them not saying a word about how they'd done it...

***

Harry, do you remember? - for probably the hundredth time, Dudley asked again as he headed toward the former Quidditch stadium, now transformed into a giant maze - the test of the third and final leg of the Triwizard Tournament.

- Yes, Dud," Harold repeated for the hundredth time, hugging his cousin with slightly trembling arms. - I won't ask you not to worry, but I ask you to have faith in me.

- All right," he nodded. - Be careful, and remember, you promised to come back alive...

***

- Harry, we're proud of you! But remember, no victory in the tournament will replace you," Sirius admonished, hugging and patting you on the shoulder. - So you protect your own skin first, and then you can think about winning..." "Good luck, son. I believe in you," Bella whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. - We prepared everything at your request, Harold," Nicholas winked, ignoring the journalists trying to clarify how Britain's national hero is related to the French alchemist of the Middle Ages.

- Thank you," Potter thanked him sincerely. - Keep an eye on Dudley in case I'm... delayed...

***

- Fleur, don't forget what we have planned for the end of this bloody tournament," Harold reminded him, standing at the start with his rivals and friends. - You don't want to miss it, do you?

- Don't you forget that," the Frenchwoman snapped at him. - I am just a Weyla. You're the Boy Who Survived. I wouldn't forgive you if you left me. And you win, for a start.

- It's a pleasure to argue with you, my dear," said Harold with a snort.

- "You're crazy! - Kram, hiding a smile, commented on the dialogue. He was one of the six who knew what the pair were up to...

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