CHAPTER 45

The prefect grasped the implication of my unspoken words and pondered for a moment, though he maintained a smile.

"The only thing that comes to mind immediately is something to provide warmth."

"A glass of whiskey?" I suggested.

"Pfft…"—had Cedric been consuming anything at that moment, it would have constituted one of the most comical scenes. "No, no, that is not what I mean. It is warmth—like a sweater, warm clothing, but not clothing."

"An amulet?" I proposed.

"Yes, something of that nature. They do exist, of course, but they are prohibitively expensive, and for the most critical occasion, the Potions lesson in winter, they are not applicable."

"What of the Potions?"

"It is rather cold in the dungeons even now. It must be so—optimal conditions and all that. It is not significantly colder in winter, but it penetrates to the bone. Standing in one place for an hour and a half with minimal movement is dreadful."

"What of simply warm clothing?"

"They are cumbersome and quite obstructive. Moreover, it still penetrates to the bone," Cedric ceased smiling, as the memories appeared to be unpleasant. "There are also quite thin and comfortable garments made from unicorn wool—well, or in a three-to-two ratio of this wool and other fabrics—but they are also exceedingly costly. Even among the affluent, not everyone can afford such luxuries. Presently, perhaps only Malfoy and Bulstrode can afford this."

"And what price for, say, an amulet, would be affordable for everyone, or nearly everyone?"

"One or two Galleons at most," Cedric contemplated once more. "For three, the market would diminish, although the profit would remain at the same level. You could attempt to create decorated ones or utilize expensive materials to sell to those who cannot wear a simple amulet due to their status."

"Any other thoughts?"

"Everything else is somehow related to safety and protection. As the captain of the Quidditch team, I would appreciate seeing protective measures for my players in the event of a fall, but enchanted items, aside from brooms, are prohibited by the rules. Of course, they do not search us thoroughly, but if we are caught, it would be quite troublesome."

"And for training?"

Cedric merely shook his head.

"You must not become accustomed to the notion that you can fall from your broom without consequence. During matches, the pitch is enchanted so that only a few fractures threaten you—provided you fall from a reasonable height. If the speed of the fall is excessive, then the spell will not suffice. But that is why we have referees and instructors. The remaining protections are for life within the castle—to shield against malevolent gazes and other attacks. At the very least, the initial onslaught. However, even that is not particularly effective."

"Hm? Although, to some extent, you are correct."

A fragment of the elf's memories conjured an episode of great surprise from my time at the Academy of Magic. While I do not recall the specific disciplines or their content, the astonishment stemmed from the complete absence of a security system in the corridors, as well as protective amulets. There, wizards seemed to believe that one must first learn to rely on oneself before depending on "attached equipment." The elf was astonished by such a dismissive attitude towards the life and health of the younger generation, as for elves, children are regarded as almost sacred beings.

Cedric continued to share ideas for profitable crafts for several more minutes until other students began to arrive in the Great Hall for dinner. My classmates exchanged their initial impressions of the Muggle Studies lesson, and I listened attentively to the astonishment expressed by both pure-bloods and half-bloods, who were unfamiliar with ordinary people, as well as Justin. It appeared that they shared quite a few stories, and the descriptions of various items found on the streets of a typical city left Justin in a state of perpetual stupor and humanitarian shock—too absurd, albeit somewhat true.

"A pipe…"

"What, Justin?" I inquired of the boy, who was staring blankly at a plate of fried fish.

"A pipe, Hector. A firearm—a flame-spewing pipe."

"And that is not true?" Ernie, who was entirely ignorant of Muggles, perked up immediately.

Justin regarded him, but I posed another question.

"What did you forget about Muggle Studies, Justin? You did not enroll."

"Well, the window, nothing to do, but at least I listened there… It would have been better not to listen. A pipe…"

"It is peculiar," I mused thoughtfully, glancing at the Slytherin table before returning my attention to ours. "I possess information indicating that wizards are well aware of firearms, and some even collect handmade specimens as works of art."

"Oh, so that is what we were discussing?!" Susan practically leapt from her seat, surprised by her own insight, but quickly composed herself, slightly embarrassed. "And I was wondering, what on earth?"

After dinner, we reconvened in the common room to complete the accumulated homework in a calm and friendly atmosphere. As lights out approached, we made our way in a friendly group to the top of the Astronomy Tower, ensuring we brought along atlases of the night sky, writing materials, and telescopes.

Atop the tower, on the flat roof illuminated by enchanted lanterns, Professor Sinistra—a rather young and attractive witch—passionately instructed us about the constellation of Orion and the calculations regarding the influence of its visible stars on magical manipulations. From what I know, I can assert with certainty that such influence is exceedingly minimal, yet in the most precise manipulations, it must be taken into account. It appears that in this world, too, there are disciplines where such knowledge may prove beneficial. Furthermore, when constructing magical houses over the centuries, it is essential to consider the cyclical influence of celestial bodies.

When the lesson concluded, the prefects arrived at the Astronomy Tower to escort us to our respective common rooms, as it was already midnight, and wandering the castle after lights out is prohibited without a prefect. As I prepared for bed, I contemplated whether to cultivate the materials for the amulets using the elven method or to attempt the dwarven, mechanical-magical system of processing raw materials. The fragment of the elf's memory seemed to have calmed somewhat after the experiment, while the remnants belonging to the dwarf eagerly anticipated the forthcoming interesting and familiar activities inherent to every good—albeit young—dwarf.

***

In the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, the lamps cast a soft, warm, and quite bright yellow light, while the flames crackled gently in the fireplace. A large phoenix perched on its stand, suspended from a golden rim, shimmering with fiery hues, gazing with little interest at the contemplative Dumbledore, who sat at his desk.

The flames in the fireplace shifted to green, and a stout man clad in a black three-piece suit and coat emerged immediately. Following him was a tall, robust, dark-skinned wizard adorned in a multi-colored robe of purple shades, the style of which suggested an ethnic origin.

"Dumbledore," the stout man nodded sternly and importantly, removing his bowler hat.

It was immediately apparent that the man was not young; he was gray-haired, although he attempted to restore his hair to its natural light brown hue. However, his countenance was not burdened with intelligence, which nearly provoked a smirk from the Headmaster.

"Cornelius," the Headmaster stood to greet his guests, "Mr. Shacklebolt, what brings you to Hogwarts?"

"Cease your unwelcome verbal embellishments, Albus," Cornelius waved his hand irritably. "This matter is of urgent importance."

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore's expression shifted to one of seriousness, though it was nearly obscured by his long beard. "Tea? Lemon drops?"

"Albus…" Cornelius replied reproachfully as he took a seat in the offered chair.

"Very well, very well," the Headmaster smiled in a conciliatory manner and settled into his own chair. "Please, proceed."

"One of the Dementors we stationed to guard Hogwarts has perished."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed.

"It has perished, you say?"

"Indeed, Albus!" Cornelius's voice nearly escalated to a shout, but he quickly regained his composure. "You are aware that they cannot be killed. Their leader reported their demise with certainty."

"Come now, Cornelius, you know that anything can be destroyed if one is determined. But to destroy a Dementor…"—the Headmaster's voice was soft, ingratiating, evoking a sense of trepidation and respect, while his gaze through half-moon spectacles only intensified this effect—"that would require truly dark magic."

"Precisely! Dark magic! Oh…" Cornelius dropped his façade of importance, and with a trembling hand, he retrieved a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the sweat that had formed on his forehead. "Are you even aware that Black was recently sighted in Dufftown? It is quite close to Hogwarts."

"Do you suspect that Sirius Black was responsible for the Dementor's demise?"

"Who else, Albus! I am convinced he is already lurking nearby, coming for the boy. We must take action, Albus. The situation is becoming dire."

"Cornelius…" Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "You are aware that Hogwarts is one of the safest locations in England. With your assistance and the presence of your Dementors, it has become the most secure place, ensuring the health and safety of the children."

"I am fully aware that Dementors have no rightful place here," Cornelius waved his hand irritably, though his eyes betrayed his fear. "But what course of action should I pursue?"

"Minister Fudge, sir," the dark-skinned wizard standing beside the Minister leaned slightly over his right shoulder. "We could still employ the DMLE, or better yet, the Aurors."

"No," Fudge replied curtly. "There is no merit in diverting the already occupied wizards with aimless wanderings through the forest. That is the purpose of the Dementors. I propose we discuss additional measures."

"Well then, Cornelius," Dumbledore gestured before him. "Please, make your suggestions; I am open to dialogue…"