Well, mission accomplished. And most importantly, the timing was right—it surprised and, I hope, pleased, during the mental anguish of a quarrel with friends, and also gave a means for reconciliation. Even a blind and deaf person would notice Weasley's craving for food, and he will not pass by the cake. The main thing is how Hermione herself will present this matter.
---
With the beginning of the fourth week of school, clubs and circles opened, but I myself have not yet shown any interest in anything from the rather meager list. But my comrades, except for Justin, participate in these clubs in one way or another, which led to a reduction in the number of our common activities. Justin, by the way, complained that for several years now, the school has not been able to form any club with a vocal-instrumental theme, not counting the choir led by Professor Flitwick.
"I'd go there," he said over dinner on Friday. "But I don't like classical academic vocals at all, and I'm not much of a singer. But I wouldn't mind playing something. Maybe even learning how to do it properly."
In general, the studies went on.
The most popular subject in the entire castle was Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you believe the students' talk, Lupin is almost the best teacher of this subject, and this could be confirmed by a student of any year. I wonder what is the reason for such a phenomenal shortage of personnel?
Having immersed myself in a routine, but having turned it into a life schedule, I calmly and leisurely studied magic, trying not to stick my head out once again—the Dementors were annoying. Of course, I worked out the Patronus Charm against them to the state of fog or a shield, but you need to understand—training in the classroom is a "spherical horse in a vacuum." You shouldn't encourage yourself that I can supposedly drive away a Dementor in the field and using the local school of magic. And yes, I wonder what happened to that sprout, but for now, I'm not going to run around the neighborhood and look for it—it's unreasonable in the current situation.
Potion-making practice with Daphne and under the supervision of Professor Snape was going by leaps and bounds. The purchased ingredients were going at a tremendous speed, because we had extra classes almost until lights out, and we prepared four or five potions at a time. Of course, with the approval of the professor, like: "You haven't broken anything yet, haven't blown anything up, haven't melted anything, and I wonder how long you'll last."
The most offensive thing for me was that after the incident at the Caretaker's, Hagrid clearly lost his self-confidence, and maybe someone from above expressed an urgent request, like: "Calm down, Uncle." In general, the lessons became as dull as possible—caring for flobberworms. It would be fine if they were some "larvae" of Shai-Hulud… I wonder, and this name and association with a worm crawled out of what corner of my memory? And what is "Bene Gesserit"? In general, sad. But, I did not lose heart, conducting experiments on them with life energy. So far, everything was going well, and if specifically, then nothing bad happened. And nothing happened at all—these worms are so dull.
In early October, autumn finally began to show its gloomy and slimy character—fogs became more frequent even during the day, the sky was always overcast, from which rain poured every now and then. It was in early October, before another Quidditch training session, that Cedric asked us all to stay in the locker room and told us that in the first match of this year, we would be playing against the Gryffindors.
"We're going to have to work hard," Cedric said, gathering us all into a circle. "Oliver Wood is going to be squeezing his team to the limit. This is his last year, and he's got to finish it with a bang."
"He's so obsessed with this Quidditch…" Herbert shook his head.
"He gave in, my friend, he gave in. He devoted almost his entire Hogwarts studies to Quidditch. This is his last chance to be noticed by the island teams. Which means they will be tough and play their best."
"Hmm… So our game will be at the beginning of November, not at the end, and not with well-thought-out crows, but with beaten vultures."
"Exactly. Which means we'll train no worse than them. We may not be playing at any cost to win, but we're not going to lose either. Right?"
"Yes!"
"Great!"
In general, after this conversation, training was not postponed due to weather, mood, insomnia, and other troubles, but it was not excessive either. It was not particularly difficult for me, because I added endurance exercises to my training complex. At first, I even planned to turn off the bracelet to make it easier to train, but after weighing all the pros and cons, I abandoned this idea. I will turn it off during matches.
The days dragged on even faster, one after another, and I was caught up in the bustle and routine of school. I won't say that it was particularly interesting or too unusual, but man is a social creature. He is easily drawn into any bustle around him, if he does not have a clear antipathy to such things. I did not.
---
It was amazing how quickly time could fly. The elf's memory claimed that sometimes years could fly by as if it were only a couple of weeks, but my own memory stubbornly protested against such a worldview. But, be that as it may, almost a month flew by in studies and training.
The daily routine became even more stable. Wake up, exercise, shower, Quidditch training or breakfast right away, study with lunch and dinner, and then comes personal time, which I spend either with the guys from the faculty, doing homework, or with the guys, again, from the faculty, practicing charms, or visiting the library and making notes in notebooks on various magical disciplines. As a result, from local magic, I was fascinated by potions—this is the only science that resembles science. I learned everything else mainly for the purpose of broadening my horizons.
"What other horizons?" someone listening to my thoughts would ask. But the answer to this simple question is hidden in the details. Even if there are incomplete fragments of knowledge in my head, there are some things that even they couldn't imagine. Take, for example, a spell that ties shoelaces. What kind of wild nonsense is this—wasting magic on something you can do with your own hands?! But this is nonsense only in conditions of a shortage of magic, and in conditions of its infinity—it is a common thing. And there are many such trifles. Take the same Patronus Charm—it consumes just a wild abyss of neutral energy to create a simulation of a completely unstructured flow of light, order, life, and a number of other energies unknown to me. And you create this entire flow yourself. Yes, an elf or any other wizard whose memories I have would have strangled the one who uses energy so unreasonably!
In general, the lack of restrictions allows locals to realize their fantasies in much greater freedom. Studying local magic, I just stimulate this very fantasy to work, simultaneously hoping to find some really interesting knowledge and formulas that work in local realities. So far without much success, but I do not give up.
The morning of October 30th began for us with Madam Sprout visiting the drawing room. There is nothing surprising about this, but it wasn't Tuesday, was it?
"Guys," she said when we were all about to go to breakfast. "Guys, please have a moment of attention!"