Episode 12. Part 1

Episode 12. Part 1

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- The other way around." "Brother, study hard, don't break the school rules, don't go to the forbidden forest, don't swim in the lake, don't get into fights and stuff..." Harold admonished his cousin as he escorted him to the school steam train, squinting slylyly but holding back laughter.

- "Don't fall for Dumbledore's promises and be a good boy," Dudley rolled his eyes. - Yes, Daddy.

Anyway, I know you're up to something. And I doubt you'd leave me and the pied pipers unattended... - Dud, don't spoil the surprise, eh! - Potter pretended to be indignant.

- Okay, okay, don't sulk," Dursle retorted. The locomotive whistle sounded, and Dudley, glimpsing, by the way, his younger brother, disappeared in a cloud of steam, jumping into the train that began to move...

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- Thank you for the... speech, Professor Umbridge," Albus muttered through gritted teeth with barely contained anger. Everything was going wrong with that bloody boy! Why? Why did he always ruin his plans, why was he more cunning?

Trickier? No. He was just lucky. Sometimes it seemed to Albus that magic itself was on Potter's side. They were both victors of the Dark Lords, and it didn't matter that one didn't remember how he won, and the other took advantage of the sneakiness. But Potter was only a boy! Whereas he was a Great Wizard of Light, a seasoned and seasoned politician and general. So why did all his plans collapse, as if bumping into a deaf wall?

Yes, he was just stupid. It was his own fault for underestimating the boy and setting himself up by poisoning his cousin. It was probably the stupidest mistake he'd ever made. What was the result? His loyal associate and friend Alastor Grum is dead. The Eater, who had been hiding under his disguise as a WITS professor, had gone into hiding without showing his face. Potter either really wasn't present at Voldemort's resurrection, or he had somehow made a deal with him, which threatened to be disastrous.

Albus was delighted when he decided to marry a French vaile. However, his calculations again failed: the Veils did not live in England and the magical population was simply not familiar with them. Therefore the public reacted badly to his, Dumbledore's own, provocations in custom newspaper articles. A couple of owls may have brought a couple dozen angry, if not cursed, letters, but it didn't come to a public scandal. And then he started ordering articles on other subjects, talking about a hero who had not lived up to his hopes, who had chosen a slippery slope and turned into darkness. Slowly, but the articles were still doing the job as he secretly prepared the trial. Not much could be found on Potter, still years had passed, and his unique magic, left traces on many muggles, had all but dissipated. Of course, Azkaban was no threat to him. But to isolate his new hero, who was friends with Potter - he was simply obligated. And a trial for theft was enough for that. And there he planned to convince the Wizengamot to use truth serum on Potter... But the damn boy got away with it! Oh, and now they were accusing him of stealing Potter himself! Pfft, as if he, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore himself, had forced him to pick muggle pockets!

But how did he manage to lie under the truth serum? Of course he didn't lie. He answered unambiguously, basically saying "no" to the questions he was asked. And that answer could be understood in many ways. Few knew of this weakness of the truth potion. Who had told Potter about it? Only Flamel could have. And who would have thought that Evans would be descended from the legendary alchemist! And yet during the training of the red-haired girl he wondered why the dirty girl was so good at potions and alchemy!

That plan had failed completely. But Albus was glad all the same: At least at Hogwarts the boy would be gone. But the euphoria of the small victory vanished without a trace, giving way to pure and comprehensive rage when he read the demands of the Hogwarts Board of Trustees.

Albus gritted his teeth, knowing that he had to say it, no matter how much he wanted to remain silent. Gathering his thoughts and will into a fist, he managed to mutter in an almost neutral tone: "Also, students, you must be familiar with the new law signed by the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic personally.

- Yes, busy as a boy, Dumbledore hadn't realized how he'd signed that damned law.

- As of this school year, all Muggle-born students or students with at least one Muggle or Muggle-born parent are required to attend the new discipline of Magical Culture and Tradition, which you will find in the schedule. For other students, attendance is optional.And now I present to you the instructor of the new subject, whose unquestionable knowledge has been confirmed by a special international committee. Professor Harold Potter! Good luck, Professor," Albus specifically emphasized the address in a mocking way. Ha, as if any of the students would accept a former student as a professor. Kids didn't care about any laws, that much he knew. The kid had made life difficult for himself. - Also, a graduate of the Allied School of Magic, Charmbaton, had accepted an apprenticeship in spells from Professor Flitwick, and so as a practice, she would be assisting our professor. Lady Fleur Potter, and welcome back to Hogwarts! - The students were shocked, but gave the new professor and his wife a standing ovation, some even standing on the tables. And watching this, Dumbledore gritted his teeth at the risk of wiping them to dust.

Yes, Potter had too many powerful friends and leverage on the right people. Well, that's okay. Albus hadn't lost this war yet. After all, now he had a new hero... And let Potter just try to get him!

***

- A private suite, a private office, a private classroom at Hogwarts itself..." Harold stretched tastefully on the big double bed. - Mm, once upon a time I could only dream of that.

- You're a liar, Darling," the weight of the woman's light, graceful body on him was already familiar. He was almost used to the fact that he was married, actually. And at first he could hardly believe it. - You like the castle, you like the local scenery, but you'd never want to live here. - Harry smiled, burrowing his fingers into his wife's silky silver hair.

- I think I was right about you," Fleur purred, gazing into bottomless green eyes that were perpetually indistinguishable from emotions and thoughts. - At the expense of personal interests and desires, you prefer what you think is right. You go back to school to look after your brother and friends.

- Why did you follow me? - Lady Potter playfully pounded her spouse on the chest with her fist before answering, "Whatever brute you are sometimes, and I want to be the faithful wife who doesn't want to part with the man who conquered her.

- It's more interesting to chew with you..." Potter rolled his eyes, sniffling. - "Say you marry a rich, responsible idiot and you're happy, and the poor idiot has to suffer with you. - Bella hugged him every chance she got, of course, but he wasn't used to that kind of tenderness and affection. Fleur was in no hurry to tame him, either, which he appreciated.

- Then put down that silly little tantrum! - She protested as she struggled to break free of the ring of strong arms around her waist.

- You first! - Harold laughed.

- Oh, my love, one day, I'll strangle you to death in my arms," the Frenchwoman hissed, leaving several bruises on her husband's body in an attempt to break free.

- That's all right. But I'll die happy, in the arms of the woman I love," he purred.

- No, really, stop it, or I'm going to be sick! - came the voice of Dudley from the doorway, who had stopped by moments ago to ask how his cousin had managed to become a professor. But he had caught a rather racy scene, and out of shock he stood silent for a while, hoping to be noticed. - It really is better when you're fighting..." The Potters looked at each other and laughed softly: Dudley just didn't understand... But he was getting married and would change his mind drastically. For now, Harold had only to get out of bed with a grunt, invite his brother into the living room of his assigned suite, and finally answer the questions that were piling up...

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