14

At two o 'clock in the morning, Penny woke up in a cold sweat, staring straight at the ceiling of her dorm room.

It was a long time before she realized that she was awake. The room was quiet late at night, except for the long breathing of her roommates. Petunia sat up slowly, her hands clasped around her knees, calming her rapid breathing in the darkness.

She had just had a dream -- a bad dream, that Eli was having a bad time. The Hogwarts in her dream was like one of those British tourist castles, with its ancient buildings and closed people, and Eli, dressed in tattered old clothes -- in her dreams a bit like Snape's when he was a boy -- walking cautiously through the corridors, while others pointed at him and threw leaves at him.

It was just a dream. It was ridiculous, outrageous, impossible! Penny criticized herself harshly. How could you think that, Penny?! At any rate, Eli couldn't have come to such a miserable situation, he was only a first year, and even the wizards -- evil, bad ones -- couldn't have turned on him! Lily says he's always been popular at school, and even in his dreams he shouldn't be so pessimistic!

She sat for a moment angrily angry with herself, ashamed of her distrust of her friend's abilities. As the momentum slowly subsided, it became clear in the silence around her that her heart was sinking uncontrollably.

But she couldn't help it, thought Petunia gloomily. She could only imagine Eli's situation now by guessing, no one had ever told her the details, she was too far away and completely irrelevant, the world that had rejected her should have been completely irrelevant to her, she had accidentally acquired a pair of hands sticking out of it, and when they were withdrawn, she could hold nothing, nothing again.

She stared silently for a moment, then slowly buried her head, her forehead against her bent knees, and gathered herself into a small ball.

It had been nearly two months since she learned of Eli's plight in Lily's letter and wrote to him. Spring had slipped away and early summer had arrived, and for nearly two months she had heard nothing from Eli.

Lily cares about her and wants to help her. It was just that, as a Muggle-born first year, her access to information was obviously very limited. Petunia had already seen enough of the wizarding world to know that it wasn't all the fairy-tale fantasy she thought it was, that where there were superheroes there were supercriminals, and that it wasn't the Muggle-imagined utopia it was.

So she didn't get much out of Lily. Hogwarts School maintained the usual calm, can not see the outside world of the storm and the contest. All Lily could tell Penny was that Eli's situation at school had improved over the past two months, and that quite a few people had become less suspicious of him than they had been at first.

"A week after that article went out, he posted another one in the Daily Prophet with the same headline, along the same lines but clearer and more convincing." "Isn't he wonderful?" she wrote to her sister.

Yeah. Petunia stretched out her arms in the darkness, fumbled under her pillow and pulled out a carefully folded newspaper.

This newspaper is exactly what Lily said it would be republished in a week. Lily had sent her two newspapers, the first and second editions Eli had published, and she had read them carefully enough over the past two months to see the difference clearly, and to feel vaguely the undercurrents behind them.

But Eli did not share a word with her. After receiving her letter, he sent her the newspaper a week later, writing a simple sentence in the blank space above.

-I won't give up. I'll keep trying.

That was the last response Penny received from him. Since then, he hasn't sent another letter.

But Petunia waited until he heard from her. He did not write back, but would send an owl with a feather -- all from Wendys himself. She was able to recognize the owl completely. She had prepared several different flavors of owl food in the dormitory, as well as a special water bowl for it, and would look up at the sky every now and then, expecting it to come.

She understood that Eli was telling her not to worry -- an obvious way of saying she was safe. But Petunia gradually found that this was not enough for her, that she was haunted by the insecurity and loss of being cut off, and that she could not even put it into a letter.

He must be very busy right now... And she was just one of his... A friend who can't be of any help...

Petunia sank slowly back into bed, rolled over irritably and sadly, and forced herself to close her eyes.

The newspaper was still in her hand, and she held it in her arms. It made her feel safe and secure at last. She half curled up and fell asleep after a long, drowsy meditation.

Eli, however, was still awake, sitting at the round table in the Gryffindor common room, perusing the letter in his hand. This was the twenty-sixth letter he had read tonight. The letters on the round table were divided into two piles, the ones he had seen on one side, the ones he had not seen on the other, and now there were only two of the ones he had not seen.

The letters, which he had read, were to be sent together to Arthur the next morning, to let him know what the wizards had asked and thought about the magic telephone. Arthur will use this information to improve the magic telephone, and he will learn from the experience, continue to explain and publicize in the newspapers.

The idea of continuing to promote the magic telephone through the Daily Prophet, after the doctored article in the newspaper, was something Eli had not imagined in the first place. This was more optimistic than expected, given that this was, after all, the most widely read, authoritative and influential newspaper in the British wizarding world -- and all of this had been achieved without further falsification of the text, thanks to the help of one man, who had turned the situation upside down.

The first time I was invited to Dumbledore's office was six days after the article was published. Eli had no idea that his headmaster could be so kind, so gracious, so brilliant, or that such a man would be interested in what he was doing -- not just the article that had brought him unwarranted accusations, but Dumbledore's intimate knowledge of both his and Arthur's idea of the magic telephone.

"Please sit down, Mr. Smith." "Said Dumbledore, smiling kindly, waving his wand and conjuring an armchair out of thin air behind him, on which the teapot flew into the air and, steaming hot in a teacup, slid smoothly in front of him." I think we will have an interesting and meaningful conversation, so a comfortable chair and a comfortable environment will be necessary... Would you like sugar for black tea? I have prepared several sugar cubes, which are on your left hand side. You may choose the one you like."

"Thank you. It's my habit to drink it without sugar." Elho responded with a little restraint and sat down in an armchair. But the next moment he was on his feet again -- apologizing for the newspaper that was now lying in front of Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore -- I took things too easy, I didn't think it would bring you under fire, I really --"

"Never mind, Mr. Smith." "Said Dumbledore, smiling." The Daily Prophet has attacked me, implicitly and explicitly, fifteen times in the last year, if I remember correctly, and I do not think it has affected me at all."

Eli looked cautiously (but boldly) at Dumbledore, sensed that he was not lying, hesitated uncomfortably, and sat slowly back down.

"Why is that? "Said Eli suspiciously." Professor Dumbledore, in many of the wizarding history books I've read, you've been referred to as the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, and your achievements make that assessment extremely convincing."

"You can't sleep on your laurels, can you? Or they'll be left behind, and the older a witch gets, the further he falls behind. This is especially true when you are always in the presence of brilliant young wizards - as you are now sitting in front of me, Mr. Smith, I am saying to myself that I must continue to improve, Albus, or at some point in the near future you will no longer be able to give proper guidance to these rising stars - of course, I'm very happy to see that."

Eli immediately shook his head. "You're overpraising, Professor."

"No, I think it's quite appropriate." "Before returning to school today, Arthur and I met and saw your finished magic telephone. It takes very little magic to allow wizards to communicate quickly, and all it takes is a string of numbers -- genius, I must say, and I bet if my old friend Nicole. Flamel will be amazed at your work when he sees the magic telephone."

Eli knew who Nicolas Flamel was, and felt all the more unworthy of the praise. He said at once, "It's a modification of the Muggle telephone, Professor, we haven't created a new thing, and..."

He paused, then whispered, "And if the majority of its audience doesn't find it meaningful, there must be a lot more to be done."

Dumbledore's blue eyes peered at him carefully through the semicircular lenses, and Eli had the feeling that he was being seen through.

"But the audience hasn't even seen your full exposition yet, has it?" "They all still see a truncated and distorted skeleton, deprived of the chance to learn something new, to change their lives."

'Do you know? Eli said in surprise, a little more understanding of the principal's abilities and today's conversation. He nodded and got to the point. "Why is that, Professor? Do wizarding newspapers have a tradition of tampering with contributions without permission and criticising them?"

"I don't think so." "Said Dumbledore seriously, and without putting him off at all, he gave him a very precise answer.

"If you think about it, newspapers have always been able to dictate the current direction of public opinion. When your views go against those of more powerful and capable people, you will be judged -- whether you are a first year or the headmaster of Hogwarts."

"I was targeted because I wanted to promote magic phones." Eli asked, puzzled. "Why are you, Professor?"

"I think we probably have the same reason." "Said Dumbledore brightly." Modified Muggle objects are useful, aren't they? Muggles are equally brilliant and inventive, but too many of us refuse to admit it."

The conversation was too harmonious, and Eli soon relaxed. Curious, he asked, "So whose ideas are we going against?"

"I think it's the deep-rooted wizarding belief in pure blood and Muggle-discrimination." "After Grindelwald's defeat, these views have been fairly curbed. But with the new leaders, they have clearly come back in a big way and have unknowingly gained considerable ground."

Eli had an Epiphany: "Voldemort?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly and nodded approvingly.

"Although at your age you probably shouldn't know this, I must say, Mr. Smith, that you are very clever and very brave." "Now a lot of people are afraid to call him by his first name," he said. "It builds up his pride."

"My dad said the avoidance of names was a sign of dominance and oppression, born of caution and fear." Eli bent the corner of his lower lip, then frowned again. "Doesn't anyone think he's wrong? I mean, is everyone but us??"

"Of course not." "If that had been the case, I might not have known about the manipulation of your manuscript. There was a quiet, though not vigorous, revolt that never ceased. Just as Grindelwald and his Saints failed, so I think Voldemort and his Death Eaters failed. I think it's a historical necessity that a man who holds false beliefs will eventually fail -- I heard your father was a history professor, I think you know what I mean, Eli."

Eli understood, but he said frankly, "I understand, but I'm not sure what I'm doing is working, Professor. I was too young, and I did it impulsively. One careless mistake could have been irrevocable."

Dumbledore stared at him.

"All the same? 'he asked.

Eli paused in surprise, then laughed.

"Still, I think I should do what I think is right..." He said that he took out his pocket these days have been revising, finally prepared the eponymous manuscript, he received the note from the principal, perhaps was waiting for the arrival of this moment.

"Can you look at it for me, Professor?" 'he asked.' I've revised it from the original, and it's tighter and clearer than the last one. I didn't know if it would work when I wrote it, but a friend of mine said to me that I must be on the right track, and I think so."

Dumbledore took his parchment solemnly.

"Wisdom and courage, and justice and kindness, you're a very good Gryffindor, Eli." "I can't tell you what the impact of this persistence will be," he said gently. "But I can tell you that all drastic changes begin in the smallest of details. Every change has a meaning."