Episode 12. Part 5

Episode 12. Part 5

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- You've had it, you bitch! - Ronald Weasley laughed, unaware of anything or anyone around him. He was taking revenge on the little brat for all the wrongs, his own, his brothers and friends, his classmates, all the students, everyone in general who had faced a known assault.

Mrs. Noriss was screaming like a madwoman, calling for help. Mr. Filch did not hide his tears, being chained to the wall by magic, unable to move or open his mouth. He was forced to watch his beloved pussycat being tortured by a true fiend!

- You monster! You'll be expelled..." the girls cried, also crying and looking at the poor, tortured by a strong tickling spell (which is actually used to torture people by some darkies) animal. A crowd of people had gathered, too stunned by the sight to do anything about it. And as luck would have it, there were no professors nearby.

Harold was just on his way to his and Fleur's assigned suite when the students returned to the faculty lounges from dinner. The crowding, the shouting, and the crying could not help but make him uneasy. But it wasn't easy to push through the crowd. And oh, how good it was that Luna saw him, grabbed him by the arm, and literally dragged him, as if through a hose, through the crowd. What he saw did not please him, to put it mildly, so much that he instantly realized: he had to regain his reputation as the New Dark Lord immediately, or it would belong to Ronald Weasley. And it wasn't funny or ironic at all, for the student was mocking the cat the way Lord Voldemort had once mocked Muggles and Muggleborns when he was still mad.

- Mr. Ronald Weasley, stop mocking the poor creature immediately! - An icy, bone-chilling voice resounded through the crowd of students, silencing them and drawing their attention to the professor who had appeared.

Ronald heard the address, too, and he was suddenly very uncomfortable. He recognized the voice, but never before had he heard such rage in it. He looked at the cat, and suddenly the shroud of madness fell. He had become aware of what he had done. Yes, he and many others, more than once, had wanted to mock Filch's cat in a particularly cruel way. But he almost killed the poor animal. And no, he didn't feel pity for it, on the contrary, he gloated. But he realized how close he had come to being expelled from Hogwarts, and how that threatened him. He was taking revenge on the Head Hacker for making comments about his untidiness, and comparing him to the neat Potter, which Weasley had taken as a personal insult. What had gotten into Ron? He didn't realize it himself, only angry at... Harold.

And how ironic that he was the first of the professors to see what he had done! - Minus a hundred points from Gryffindor. And time off for the rest of the year. - Harold couldn't think of anything to do with Weasley. He thought such punishments were pointless because they didn't help students realize their mistakes. But that was the way it was, and there was nothing Harry could do about it. And there was plenty of time to figure out what kind of workout to do to Ron to make him understand, and he could do it later. - You will be notified when and where.

- Fuck you, Potter! - Ronald glared angrily at the hated Potter. But no sooner had he finished that than he found himself bound and gagged. Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, defiantly keeping his wand in his hand, ready to use it, "You shouldn't do that, Weasel.

- Mr. Malfoy, be careful, you almost got a penalty too," Harold snapped at the smirking friend. He, as a professor, had no right to encourage animosity. And how well Draco understood that! - Mr. Weasley, it is brought to your attention that I will be recommending that you be transferred to private tuition. I'm afraid if you can blame your parents for your ill-manneredness, your viviparous tendencies are entirely to your credit. It's an indicator.

Think about that while you're waiting for your detention. In the meantime," Potter connected the power of his desire to the enchanted ropes, and the magic obeyed, dragging Ronald into Minerva McGonagle's office. With a wave of his wand, he sent McGee and the Patronus, who was supposed to explain to the Dean of Gryffindor what had happened, and to notify him why he had not brought Ronald himself. Instead, he walked over to the tortured, trying to meow pitifully... From the hands that reached for it, it tried to dodge, but could not. So Harold calmly enough took her in his arms, carefully holding her and probing the thin, fragile bones for fractures with his fingers. With another swing of his wand, the relieved janitor dropped to his knees. - Mr. Filch, let's go soothe you and your pussycat. - The moment Filch used the proffered hand, the crowd began to chatter at once. Survivor Boy hadn't yet realized that by saving the many-hated janitor, he'd managed to become a hero again...

***

- Lord, your punishment is far too severe," said Dumbledore in a feigned neutral tone, barely able to control the urge to curse the boy. - No doubt Ronald is to blame, but a hundred points and a month's detention..."

"Detention is for the rest of the year, Headmaster," Harold chided him coldly. It was a meeting of professors about what happened. - Do you think a cat's life is worth less? Report it to Mr. Filch or I will. But I think it's too cheap.

- But the cat is alive! - Albus exclaimed. Yes, the pawn had failed him. At the moment when Ron was not allowed to stick his neck out so as not to ruin his plans, he felt his impunity... For a brief moment, Dumbledore wondered if he should have been excused. But no. The boy knew too much about his goals, and no matter how much he, the great wizard, insured that his secrets would not be found out through his youngest son Weasley, but understood that there might be a force that could bypass his, Albus, insurance. And he could still use the moron. I had to defend him to my colleagues, even though the Potter boy had all the trumps.

- Only because I was on time," Harold squinted, confident that he was right. - The cat is clearly psychologically traumatized because it refuses to come down off the shoulders of people it trusts even to eat! It's now Ron tormenting the cat, not realizing the value of its life, and then what? Then he might as well torture people he didn't like, huh? I'm even curious, didn't Tom Riddle start out that way, by any chance? - Harry grinned harshly. Dumbledore's face fell off abruptly as he recalled the story of one little rabbit and Tom-as-a-priest. Did Potter know about that story? Of course he did, since he mentioned Voldemort by his real name. But how? He could only have one source: Tom himself. But which one? Reborn? No, he wasn't sentimental enough to tell stories from his hated childhood to an enemy, though clearly a former one. So the boy had had contact with the Horcrux in his head. That was too bad. However his chosen hero wouldn't have to fight two Dark Lords...

- You're not the one to talk about it, boy! - Albus exclaimed when he came to his senses, still unable to keep his mask of equanimity on his face and jumped up. He was too displeased to think that Longbottom could not go against his suzerain. Magic won't allow it. - To you, the value of life doesn't matter at all! Your aunt and her husband sheltered you, gave you food and shelter, and treated you well, and yet you killed them anyway. You think I didn't notice that the fire at Number Four Tees was of magical origin? - Lord Harold James Patrick Nicholas Potter's face hardened, his whole body. He hoped that no one but Dudley would ever find out. But that nasty old man... What was he supposed to do now?

- Trump had stashed away, hadn't he? - Survivor Boy asked with a chuckle, opting to go ahead and keep his mouth shut. The assembled professors, who didn't much believe the headmaster, stared at the former student in amazement. They all could not have imagined that such a thing was even possible. The headmasters in the portraits rose from their seats, and even Fawkes seemed to listen.

- Lord Potter, is it true? - Minerva was the first to cope with surprise, but not with a husky voice. To think: her favorite student and suddenly... Though she remembered the nasty impression Aunt Harold's family had made on her. Who knows, maybe they had treated their nephew badly!

- I never wished them dead," Harold sighed, realizing that if he wanted to keep his attitude normal, he had to be sincere. It wasn't easy, confessing to strangers. And, come to think of it, he might as well say that Dumbledore was delusional, and even convince the meeting of that. Except it would be much worse if the Headmaster could make the truth public, and Harold didn't know if he had any proof. He had to repent. He closed his eyes, but with his head held up proudly, he continued: - I was angry with them a lot, resentful that Dudley was spoiled, and they put me in a closet under the stairs and wouldn't even give me his broken toys. Yeah, I almost hated them, but I didn't wish them dead," he sighed again, opening his eyes and noticing the squinted looks from Filius and Pomona. - It was an accident. A magical outburst, that's all. And I can swear on my magic to it," he said confidently. The distrust and suspicion vanished from the deans' eyes... Everyone understood that this was a serious oath. And at the same time, it never occurred to them that Potter didn't care about magic. He could easily give it up if necessary.

- I wonder what would happen if your cousin were to mention that..." snorted Dumbledore, curling his lips ironically.

- Are you blackmailing me again, old man? - Harold grinned crookedly, not to shudder clasping his hands in a lock behind his unnaturally tense and erect proud back. - But you're wrong again. Dudley knows. He was able to understand and forgive me. After all, if YOU hadn't dropped me off on their doorstep in November in a thin blanket, this wouldn't have happened. And if Voldemort hadn't killed my parents, it wouldn't have happened either. I'm afraid that trump card of yours won't work in the end, either.

- Young man, why don't you want revenge on Voldemort? - Armando inquired from the portrait in surprise. Potter smiled slightly at him. "Headmaster Dippet, I already took revenge on him once, by disemboweling him. That he might come back is no longer my problem. Let others now avenge him for those who have died at his hands.

- Surprisingly sensible young man! Lord Potter, I have not changed my opinion of you," Phineas Nigelius Black exclaimed. Harold bowed in acknowledgement, but quickly returned to the subject. "But we are not gathered here to discuss our sinister past. I've made my arguments to you three times already, and if you still disagree, let's resort to voting. - Potter fearlessly turned his back on Albus and addressed the gathering, "Professors, colleagues, who agrees with my choice of punishment for Mr. Weasley?

- No doubt you have chosen too lenient a punishment, Lord Potter," Severus grinned almost immediately, nodding mockingly.

- Well, as much as I hate to deprive my native faculty of so many points, I admit that the punishment is justified," McGee nodded as well. The cat's massacre of her student shocked the not-young witch. She was in agreement that something like this couldn't be let off the hook.

- I can't believe Mr. Weasley would do such a thing! - Sprout threw up her hands in indignation. - Yes, I agree too, the punishment is fair.

- And I agree with Severus. It's even a mild punishment," Flitwick spoke up as well. All the professors spoke in turn. And no one was indifferent to the squib head-keeper and his cat. Only Professor Trelawney agreed with the Headmaster's opinion. And also Umbridge thought for a long time, flashing her eyes suspiciously at Harold, who mentally regretted the confession, because now the Pink Toad had something to show as dirt, if suddenly his opinion differed with that of Fudge.

Ahem, yes, Lord Potter, you're quite right. Ahem," she said, "this was no place for indulging your pet inhabitants when they're being terribly cruel. He realized instantly that trouble was brewing. - Maybe you even teach how to torture cats, and the Ministry and the public don't know? This case certainly needs to be dealt with. I'll notify Cornelius, and we'll have an inquiry... I promise you...

***

- Sohatic?! - Sirius exclaimed in exasperation as he opened the door of the ancestral nest when there was a knock on it. On the threshold stood his godson, soaked to the skin and evidently having wandered in the rain for hours.

- Hello, Sirius," Harold said huskily, and asked very modestly: - "May I spend the weekend here?

- Godson, what are you doing? - Sirius looked his guest over from head to toe, then hugged him sharply, despite the fact that Harry was leaking, and dragged him into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. - You know you can consider Black Manor your home. You can come and go as you please, live as long as you like.

- Thank you, godfather. - Sirius even flinched when he realized he had been hugged back. Until this moment, Harry had never allowed himself to do such a thing. He could be hugged as much as he wanted, but only his cousin, Bella, and his wife had ever responded to a hug himself. But that wasn't what was most surprising. It was the murdered look in his green eyes and the shivering in his body, clearly not caused by the rain.

- I've been running away from my spouse, haven't I? - Lord Black patted his godson on the shoulder with a sly wink when the hug was over. And, without giving a word, continued: - "Oh, you are your father's son! I remember James, too, going nuts a couple of times after arguments with your demanding mother, and running off to my bachelor pad with Remus, as he said, "to cool off.

- I didn't run away from Fleur, I ran away from Dumbledore..." Harold hummed, nodding to greet Lady Walburga in the picture. Sirius squinted more seriously, "And I told you you were too young to be a professor!

- No, I like teaching," Potter shook his head. - The students seem to be fine with me, too.

- Then what's the matter, Sohatic?! - His godfather inquired inquisitively and restlessly, insistently placing him in a chair, deep and comfortable, having previously dried Harold with magic.

- Yeah, I guess I'm only fifteen, but who do I think I am! - Harry sighed, not really knowing what he was talking about. - A lord? A professor? The worthy spouse of a girl who could drive almost anyone crazy? A caring brother? - Sirius looked at his godson in disbelief and did not understand where all his bravado and self-confidence had gone, and more importantly, what Dumbledore had to do to bring the boy to that state.

- Ooh, Sohatic, it smells like kerosene, though I don't know what it is," Black stretched out.

- A flammable propellant, a product of petroleum refining, to simplify," Harold explained automatically.

- Never mind!" Sirius interrupted him, jumping up to the mini-bar. Bellatrix peeked through the doorway, glancing questioningly at her cousin. He shook his head indefinitely, and she understood, leaving the men alone. Even mad Bella had the upbringing to know that women should not interfere in the conversations of Lords families. - Let's have a drink of good old Muggle whiskey and you can tell me what put you in this state. - The glass of liquor tucked under his nose was surprisingly sobering. He drank the drink in a gulp and sighed: he didn't want to tell the story again, but for the first time in his memory, he needed the advice of an adult who had also had a lot on his plate. Advice from someone he trusted, in one way or another. Of course, Sirius was a joker and took few things seriously, but if he had been stupid, he would hardly have been able to survive the war. If his father had faced Voldemort three times and survived, Sirius certainly had his back.

- Siri, tell me, does an assassin have the right to have everything I have?

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