Dark Hogwarts

Dean is dead. By myself, of my own free will. The boy decided to give his own life so that I wouldn't have to get my hands dirty with children's blood... So that the Muggle girl, whom he saw for the first time, would not lose her life on the testing table of the psychopath Quirrell.

I looked at his bloodless body and still couldn't fully comprehend what had happened. I lost a comrade. Friend.

We spent a whole year together. He stayed with me for Christmas, he was the very first to support my idea of helping Harry with the trials without hesitation... Is dead.

- why? — Harry wiped the tears under his glasses with his robe once again, — why did he do that?

— He didn't want the girl to die, — a tearful Hermione pointed with her hand at the table with a Muggle that never regained consciousness.

"But he's a wizard... And she's a Muggle... Ron was muttering. For him, the juxtaposition of a Muggle wizard's life was clearly something alien to understand.

"He lived with people like her all his life before Hogwarts," I told the guys, "I understand him. Dean... He valued every human life. And this... It was his choice.

We sat next to the body of a dead friend for a while. The passage back was sealed with a block of stone, so all the other students were cut off from us. There are only four students left, including me.

It's like I got into the canon by staying with Harry, Ron and Hermione. In a perverted, cruel and merciless, but canon. What awaits us next? Voldemort?

—Get up," I said, and I followed my own command, "Dean can't be returned, but we can... We need to finish all this. For the sake of the others. For the sake of those classmates who are now suffering from pain and their own altered bodies.

The guys got up.

— We are... Should we leave him here? And her, too? Harry asked about Dean's body and the Muggle girl.

- yes. Do not drag them on yourself, straight into the unknown... Let's go.

How lousy it felt. And even if things had turned out differently, if I had gutted this girl, my condition would hardly have been different for the better.

The time will come, and Quirrell will pay for Dean. They're all going to pay for all the crap that's going on here sooner or later. I won't always be a helpless child, and I have a good memory.

Tired, exhausted and emotionally burned out, we walked down the new aisle. The tests of the teachers should have been over, and now, either the end of this whole series of cruelty, death and danger awaits us, or the director has prepared some kind of finale to this venture.

However, it is necessary to prepare for the worst outcome. As I expected, there was no simple completion.

The narrow corridor ended in a new empty hall, into which, instead of the usual door, an ordinary arched passage led. As soon as the four of us overcame it, I felt some changes in my condition. It was as if a faint invisible energy passed through my body.

— Did you notice that too? Hermione asked.

— yeah... Ron answered her, "and you, Harry?" Harry? He started shaking his head from side to side, "where's Harry?!

And the boy just disappeared. Literally just now he was walking on my right hand, then this barely noticeable blurring happened and Harry disappeared - he was neither in front nor behind in the corridor, as if he had evaporated into thin air in a moment.

"I think Dumbledore has prepared his test for him, and we just don't need him there," I suggested, trying not to fan Ron's panic with my other ideas about what had happened.

— But how can he be without us! — he exclaimed excitedly, worried about his best friend, — we need to go after him and help Harry! — the boy began to enter and exit the corridor into the hall and back, trying to disappear after Harry.

— It's useless, — I summed up his actions, — if the director doesn't want us to be together with him, then that's how it will be. Maybe we can help him in some way if we cope with the new challenge?

Ron agreed with my theory, and we focused on what lay ahead.

The hall we entered looked empty and abandoned. There was a new door at the end of it, rare magic lamps hung from the ceiling, and in the very center there was a rather large dark hole down.

— What's in there? I can't see anything," Ron tried to look down the holes.

— Be careful, don't just climb up there, — I warned my friend, — there's another inscription on the door, let's go, let's read it first.

The stove will open the door at the bottom,

But then only emptiness awaits.

— The door will open with a plate at the bottom... Should I go down there? And how to do it? I was guessing, looking at the inscription.

Suddenly, the side walls crunched disgustingly.

- what is it? — Ron was scared, - they're moving!

- yes... — I looked at the walls more closely, — they are slowly moving. So we are limited in time. Come on, think about how to get down there...

While I was thinking, Ron whispered to me:

— Kyle, can I have a word with you? He looked at me and asked me to move away with him.

— Why are you whispering? I asked him, and Hermione frowned at our negotiations.

— Em... It's necessary," Ron glanced warily at Hermione, taking me by the hand to the creaking wall, "listen, there's a void down there. Do you understand what this means?

— Have you figured it out yet? I raised my eyebrows.

— I think the one who goes down there is either... If he falls, he will die. Remember all the past trials, Kyle! Someone needs to die to get through. The headmaster, unlike the teachers, did not give any hints about his test, right?

I nodded reluctantly. And indeed, all his hints, which I have been puzzling over this academic year, have already been solved in one way or another.

But there may be a second way! It would be illogical to leave the trial with only one fatal outcome at the very end, when, as in all previous cases, it was possible to do without deaths among child wizards.

— Which means that it is necessary here... Someone to choose who will let others finish the test," Ron continued his thought, leading me to certain conclusions.

— And you're telling me this so that... It was beginning to dawn on me why Ron had taken me aside for a conversation, using such inept espionage methods.

"Kyle, she's a traitor," Ron realized that I had figured out his idea, "and there are only three of us here. In my opinion, the choice is obvious, — the boy tried to give his words confidence, but he hesitated and was not fully ready to fulfill his plan. That's why he turned to me, because he's used to me making final decisions.

I glanced at Hermione, who pretended not to be looking at us, although her tense posture suggested otherwise. He shook his head, banishing seditious thoughts.

It's still not hopeless enough to think about such a thing.

— Ron. We'll find another way out. There is still time, the walls are coming together quite slowly. And have you forgotten that Hermione helped us with Snape's trial? She deserved forgiveness of her past sins at least from us.

"A rat remains a rat," he nervously waved away my arguments, thus charging himself with vanishing confidence, "and we need to decide now, for now...

— Petrificus Totalus! — suddenly, a spell of paralysis flew into my side, and I fell like a pillar on the stone floor.

It hurt enough, but to express it in any way, I couldn't move a single part of my body.

— Petrificus Totalus! — I saw Ron in a hurry start to pull out his wand, which is why he did not have time to dodge the new beam, and repeated my actions with a fall.

Hermione came up to us with her wand at the ready, making sure of the success of her own charms. Ron and I couldn't even blink properly, so they obviously worked.

She attacked us! Hermione! Attacked! At us!

The girl dragged my dumbfounded body to the center of the room. The thought struck me like a thunderbolt that I was about to fly into a hole to meet my own death... But this, thank all the gods and demons, did not happen. Hermione left me between the door and the hole, and then did the same with Ron's body.

What's going on in her head right now? What is she going to do? Dozens of questions were swarming in my head. How did she even have the guts to attack her classmates so suddenly, after everything we've been through together?!

Although, admittedly, it worked well. The first thing she did was take me out of the game, since I would most likely have managed to get my wand and neutralize Hermione if the first ray flew at Ron.

—Huh," Hermione breathed right above us when she finished dragging our bodies, "I shouldn't have left you at those moving walls," she said aloud.

I stared at her uncomprehendingly, trying in this way to ask the girl a dumb question: "What the hell are you doing?".

"I'm sorry, Kyle, for attacking you. But I know what you were whispering about. It's not hard to guess, actually. And to die at the very end... Personally, I'm not going to," she frowned at us, putting her hands on her hips.

Did Hermione really think that I was capable of pushing her into the abyss in order to pass on? Am I capable? Previous trials have shown me that you can't be sure of anything for sure, and the desire to survive can make a person do all sorts of terrible things...

— Almost six months... I have suffered humiliation from all of you. I swallowed your punches and insults, tried to work in a team, but I was not even considered a part of it... But for what? Yes, I told Professor McGonagall about the prefect. But I had no other choice! There, on the astronomical tower, I was interrogated! And she could tell when I was lying or not telling the truth... What was I supposed to do, Kyle? What should I have done? To be silent, no matter what? For whom? Olivia Riley? She smiled bitterly, "it even sounds ridiculous. Yes, I've told McGonagall some things before, but only when she asked me about it! And you... They abandoned me...

There were grunts and grunts from Ron's side. The boy was apparently trying his best to shake off the spell of paralysis.

— Petrificus Totalus! Petrificus Totalus! — the girl reacted to his attempts and, just in case, repeated her charms on us, updating the effect of paralysis, — and don't try to escape, Ron. You're not going to make it. And I can understand Kyle, he is... He gave me a chance to come back and earn forgiveness. I..." Hermione leaned over my body and took my hand, "I'm grateful, really. But people like Ron... The girl frowned and stood back up, casting an angry glance at my partner in misfortune.

— Every time... You've been calling me a traitor all this time, Ron. Even when passing the tests, this word seemed to stick in your mind, although you had nothing to do with it yourself... It was my business with Kyle, and you all unconditionally sided with him... I was very offended to hear insults from those whom I was beginning to consider my friends... And here we are! — she twirled her hand around, — we went through unimaginable obstacles, escaped from monsters and solved deadly puzzles of teachers. And what's the result? What did you, Ron Weasley, say to Kyle back there? You wanted to throw me down! Kill! Me! — she shouted with all her might, clearly being in a state of excitement about the situation, — And I can't allow it. After all, I want to live, I want to graduate from Hogwarts and live a long life, learn so many new things... So I had to paralyze you. So that in your head, Kyle," she pointed at me, "the pernicious idea of getting rid of me does not wander, choosing between your friend and the "traitor girl". He," she pointed to my paralyzed friend, "was among the first to come up with such an idea... Yes, Ron?

The boy tried to mumble something again while Hermione glared at him.

— I did... I can drop you there right now. Can you imagine? What do you think I should do this way? Hermione was talking to the Weasleys now, and I hardly saw it, trying to determine at least by ear what was going on there.

—Look into my eyes, Ron," came from their side, "look at me." Do you see a traitor in front of you? See?! Because I'm not a traitor! And I'm not even going to allow the thought of pushing any of you down! Unlike you, Ron! So which one of us is a traitor then?

Hermione fell silent, and the hall, except for the background noise of the slowly approaching walls, fell silent. The worst thing about all this was not being able to turn on my side and see what was going on there. What is Hermione doing? How's Ron?

Concentrating, I tried to shake off the spell of stupor. And again. And again. Without result. I had very little practice, and let the spell weaken so much over time that I will definitely be able to do this trick, but I still have to live until that time, and nothing prevents Hermione from updating the effect of the spell on us, as she has already demonstrated to us once.

For a moment, I regretted that I had ever given the girl the opportunity to come with us and taught her this spell. Yes, there was a point in her frank monologue, but all this did not negate the fact that Hermione was the first to attack her comrades surreptitiously, acting preemptively. She attacked me!

After a while, footsteps could be heard retreating. Is Hermione leaving? But where to?

Anyway, I still couldn't move. Willy-nilly, I had time to think about all the events that had happened to us. Not to think about it in between trials, but to really think about all that has happened to us in the last few hours.

The Finch-Fletchley drain... Can I blame the boy for being a coward now? Knowing what he would have to go through here, did I have the right to resent his action?

Neville's fall... I hope everything is fine with this chubby boy, and his injuries did not cause internal bleeding. Anyway, Longbottom, despite the danger, eventually climbed into that hatch with the others, although he was terribly afraid of it.

The absorption of Seamus by the monster plant... I missed this active Irishman so much during such terrible trials. But he still does not know about the fate of his friend...

Oliver's death... The state he was in when Susan and I discovered him left no doubt about the boy's demise. If by some miracle he survived, then I would be ashamed to look into his eyes. After all, I was the one who decided not to try to help him, worrying about the lives of everyone else. Oh, if I had only guessed about the riddles earlier...

Draco's cowardice and the bravery of our Gryffindors... Who knows what drove Malfoy to refuse to drink from the cup, but at the same time to a strong desire to go further. There was some mystery about it. In any case, after what happened in the cauldron room, any beginnings of good relations between us have sunk into oblivion.

Dean's death... I still can't believe he died. And at the very moment when it already seemed that there would be no more deaths among us.

The events of that unfortunate day flashed through my mind over and over again. And that's where it got us. Ron and I are lying paralyzed, Harry is missing, the others are left behind, and Hermione has gone somewhere altogether. I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore, looking at all this, shakes his head in disappointment and sends us all to our forefathers along with the rest of the school and the whole world.

A crazy world, crazy people, crazy things. Is that why I didn't get into the most ordinary Harry Potter? Without all this gloom and hopelessness hovering around? Maybe that Harry Potter did not exist at all, but Rowling dreamed of this particular world, which a kind woman's heart decided to turn into a fairy tale about good and evil? Good, however, would have to be invented from scratch, in that case.

While I was thinking, new sounds were heard in the hall. Something was dragged across the floor, as it happened to us after the attack.

Hermione? Is that her? Damn, it's so hard to focus on sound alone. Ron seemed to be still lying next to me, so he didn't need to be here. Or maybe it was Harry who showed up? In this case, will he have time to deal with the situation and neutralize Hermione, or is she dragging the scar-headed boy's body to us right now?

Ahhh! The unknown sometimes feels much worse than any hardships and inconveniences!

The sounds of some kind of scuffling were heard closer and closer, until, at one point, they stopped.

Suddenly, the walls stopped moving, and the sound of a door opening was heard ahead.

What the hell is going on out there? Has the test been passed? But how?

A tired Hermione appeared in front of me. She looked at me sadly and spoke:

— I guessed it. The stove, Kyle. To open the door, you had to throw something heavy into the hole so that the stove would work. And it didn't have to be one of us. It worked... A dead body... She sobbed, but immediately began to calm down, "Dean helped us pass another test. It's over. Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! Hermione waved her wand twice in our direction, removing her own charms from us.

Without saying another word, she walked forward, leaving her back exposed to our charms.

— Eh? I'm moving! Kyle,— Ron jumped up abruptly and took out his wand, trembling in his hands, pointing it at Hermione's back as she retreated into the aisle.

— Stop, Ron, — I got up after him, removing his pointed hand, — she passed the test. It's over. Enough.

— She stunned us! I thought... I thought she was going to throw me down!

— That's what I thought. But Hermione didn't do that, did she? Let's go outside, Ron. And so the head is splitting from our adventures. No need to create another one, just not now.

We followed Hermione into the opening. The girl stopped at the very entrance to the new hall, and Ron and I caught up with her and stood on either side.

Dumbledore himself was standing in front of us, and next to him was a frightened Harry Potter, who was holding some kind of transparent robe in his hands. The invisibility cloak...

***

POV Harry Potter.

Harry himself did not understand how he found himself in front of a house at dusk. He literally just walked with his friends to a new passage, and the next moment he was here. The silence of the night street, which vaguely reminded him of Little Whinging, contrasted sharply with the sound in the halls and corridors of Hogwarts.

He looked around. The door of the house was wide open, and the body of a man could be seen in the hallway.

"Where am I? And how did you get here?" the boy thought.

Harry timidly entered the house and approached the unconscious body at the front door:

— Sir, are you okay? "What is it?" he asked the man lying on the floor in a low voice.

His face reminded him of someone, but Harry still couldn't figure out who it was. It was as if he had already seen this face somewhere, but could not remember how he knew this man, who did not react to his question in any way, continuing to lie silently on the plank floor.

"Is he dead?"

In response to his unspoken question, something rumbled upstairs, and a woman's scream was heard from there. The same scream that he had dreamed about many times in his nightmares. Harry almost never remembered them, but now that he had heard it in reality, he was quite aware of it.

— Step aside! — whispered a voice above, but for Harry these words rang in his head like a tocsin. He shuddered at every word, and unconsciously began to climb the stairs to the source of the sound.

— Don't touch him! Kill me, but don't touch him! Please! — a familiar female voice came from one of the rooms.

"Mom?" he had a fleeting thought.

Harry was amazed at the idea that came to him. Are these his memories? The day my parents died? Is the man downstairs his father?

— Mom! He shouted and ran headlong towards the room with the broken door.

— Avada Kedavra! A terrifying voice said, and Harry himself was blinded by a flash of green light.

— Mom! Mom! He covered his eyes with his hand and kept running towards the room.

"I have to save her! I must!"

However, when Harry found himself in the room, neither his mother nor Voldemort were in sight. There was only a strange boy who was standing by the baby's cradle and had his back turned to him.

He was short-cropped and tall, and there were some nasty appendages sticking out of the sleeves of his jacket.

"What's going on here? Who is he?"

— Who are you? — Harry whispered softly, timidly approaching the mysterious boy, — and where is my mother?

He did not say a word in response, and only continued to hum the tune of a familiar children's lullaby.

— Who are you? Harry repeated the question and put a trembling hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the boy's figure turned to him with an ominous empty face with only a mouth to the ears, and the appendages from his arms abruptly wrapped around Harry, fixing him in place.

—You know who I am...— the boy whispered and smiled ominously, "you're going to die." Die-eat," his words sounded with hissing intonations, "don't let him kill you, don't lose me-I-I...

The picture suddenly changed abruptly, and in front of him there was already a reflection of Harry himself, only older and more frightening.:

— Don't let me! Don't believe it! Don't take revenge! Don't let me! Don't believe it! Don't take revenge! It was shaking his hands, and Harry didn't understand where he was or what was happening to him. He saw only the eyes of his own reflection-alien, detached, dead.

— My son! Harry! Mom's gentle voice came from somewhere.

"Mom?"

— Don't turn around! Don't believe it! Don't take revenge! The reflection continued to whisper to him.

"But there's Mom..."

— Don't turn around! Don't turn around! No!

— Avada Kedavra! — repeated the hissing voice.

A green flash flooded Harry's mind, and it was over.

He came to himself in some room. He was shaking violently from the visions, and the boy's breathing was fast and ragged.

"It's like I had a nightmare. But so real! And where am I? Oh, yes, at Hogwarts, I'm going through the tests... But where are my friends then?"

Harry looked around and saw the headmaster of Hogwarts himself, at the sight of whom he was even more scared and fell to the floor.

"Don't worry, Harry. There's nothing else threatening you right now," Dumbledore told him soothingly.

— I-I saw it... I-saw it... Harry muttered, trying unsuccessfully to formulate his own thought.

— I know what you saw, — the director came closer to him and began to examine some kind of binding that he was holding in his hands, - memories. About the night Voldemort came to your house and killed your parents.

— But... Why did I see this? This... Also, part of the test, sir? "What is it?" he asked timidly, glancing warily at the director.

— That's the essence of it. For you, at least. You must remember what the Dark Lord did to your family. And to know that you have become bound by your mother's charms.

— Are they connected? Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion, "but, sir, I thought Voldemort was dead."

"Dead?" The headmaster raised his eyebrows in surprise, —no, Harry, that's not true. He managed to find a way to avoid his own death. And someday he will return to finish what he started a dozen years ago. He's going to try to kill you again, so you need to prepare for that.

— But why? Why would he... Kill me? Am I a danger to him? Harry asked.

—Oh, you, Harry... No, you can't imagine. But Voldemort is sure that your death is necessary for him.

— Necessary for what?

"To weaken me, as he believes," Dumbledore's glasses flashed as he looked at Harry, "the Dark Lord thinks that your death will help defeat me."

Harry was completely confused.

— But how is it connected?

— The time will come, and you will find out. And now, let me distract you from such unhappy thoughts. Get up," the director stepped aside and took out some kind of transparent cloth from somewhere behind.

Harry stood up, and Dumbledore continued:

"It's not a simple robe, Harry. It used to belong to your father. Although he didn't have time to apply it, it doesn't make it any less valuable. This is an ancient artifact that has been passed down in the Potter family for hundreds of years. Here," the headmaster handed it to the boy, and Harry took it cautiously, "you have coped with the tests and proved that you are worthy of it. Use the robe wisely, but do not forget that teachers can take it away for violating the rules," he smiled and waved his finger at him.

Suddenly, the door behind the boy began to open.

—Oh!" said Dumbledore happily, "and here are your friends." Well, the trials can be considered over, and it's time to reward other winners.

Harry saw Hermione, followed by Kyle and Ron. They did it. It's over.

But Harry's mind was in a mess, and his scar had been aching and burning for the last half hour.

The end of the POV.

At the end of this brutal streak of suffering, the director awarded us a whole bunch of points. And if earlier we considered them an irreplaceable value, then after the experience, the dry figures that could be spent on a diverse life at Hogwarts were even perceived as somehow ridiculous.

After all these events, after encountering dangers, after the death of two students, our reward looked like some kind of sophisticated form of mockery.

Harry had a similar situation. After all, the mantle, in fact, belonged to his father, which means, in a good way, the boy should have inherited it anyway. But no, for her sake and for some hallucinations mixed with memories of the events of the fatal night for the boy, half of our course participated in deadly trials. The theater of the absurd, no other way.

Yes, Harry told us about what he saw after his own disappearance, and Ron and I shared with him Hermione's act, which was still perceived very ambiguously. On the one hand, she passed the test and even after all the accusations and insults from Ron, she did not throw him into the hole, although she had the opportunity and, most likely, to some extent desired it. On the other hand, the girl attacked us from behind, thereby showing an absolute lack of trust, albeit with a stretch justified.

After all that I had experienced, I had no idea how to communicate with Hermione or whether to communicate at all. She did things that were too contradictory, she seemed too unpredictable to everyone else.

After a brief, uninformative conversation with Dumbledore, whom I still did not dare to ask anything, we went to dinner, which was about to begin. There we met those surviving guys who were cut off from us during the Quirrell test. They told us that all the guys had been successfully sent to the hospital wing, and soon they would all be patched up and cured. Everyone except Oliver Rivers and Dean Thomas.

The next few days went by in a blur. We did what the director wanted us to do, coped with all the intricacies of his sick mind, or his teachers - it's not so important. But they lost two classmates at the same time, not understanding why they gave their lives.

The fate of the Muggle girl, for whom Dean was drained of blood, also turned out to be unknown, being perceived by teachers and the director only as another decoration for our trials. I could only hope that Dumbledore or Quirrell would let her go, otherwise Dean's death would have seemed even more pointless.

However, to my careful question during another Muggle study, Quirrell was only surprised by my interest in "some kind of Muggle", and did not answer anything. If I had said that I was worried about her fate, it would only have caused the professor's displeasure, and no one would have allowed me to take the muggle from his "personal collection".

All this caused us depression, which gradually dissipated before the upcoming exams.

The guys who did not take part in the tests looked at us warily that they had gone through Hell. There was no anger at them - over time, almost every student who participated realized that other classmates might have done the right thing by staying away.

Yes, we saved the entire course from the so-called "director's punishment". Yes, we have proved our own courage. But on the example of the deaths of two brave men, others slowly came to the conclusion that sometimes the best solution is not to climb into the mouth of the beast, even if it threatens to devour everyone at once.

Gryffindor mourned the death of Dean Thomas. They didn't even let us bury him, so we conducted our own ritual in an abandoned office, in which we said goodbye to our friend with tears in our eyes. I've never seen Seamus so lost and broken, and the other guys didn't feel much better.

In a single year, we lost two out of twelve comrades, and everyone was afraid to guess what would happen next.

How many of us will live to the end of our studies with such mortality? Or is this the first course all so dangerous, and then it will be easier?

These issues remained open, and it was beyond our power to influence the final result.

Change the way things are? To rebel against unfair treatment? Don't make me laugh. Voldemort couldn't do it, no matter where he got into the carcass of a twelve-year-old Muggle-born. I need strength to change something. It takes time to get it. In order for time to pass, you need to survive at Hogwarts. A vicious circle in which I will have to keep spinning.

Escape? And where to? And in what way? If that's the case, then the only place where the UK Ministry of Magic won't get to me is America. And who will I be there? How do I get there? If both magicians and Muggles, as far as I know, cannot move between the Old and the New World.

Of course, such an opportunity to escape would be very useful to me, but I'm just afraid. I am afraid that if I start at least digging in this direction, I begin to find out the necessary information, then by these actions I will compromise myself even before the very implementation of the escape plan.

After all, I have no idea what methods of surveillance the Ministry and Dumbledore himself have. But since they were able to introduce such harsh conditions at school for children, and parents still have not forgotten their children and have not fled, it means that the possibilities of migration control at the Ministry are truly limitless.

Even at school, I was afraid to say something dangerous once again. Who knows, suddenly, the paintings are silent with everyone except Dumbledore, and they report everything they saw to him. Or brownies. It is not known for certain how much they are subordinated to wizards. Can these magical creatures act as scouts and informers? Maybe every step of every student is constantly monitored, who knows...

Although, in this case, the events with Olivia and Hermione do not make sense. Why ask a girl about something if you know all this yourself with the help of surveillance?

The result was the same: initially I needed information, a lot of information. Only if it was available, it was possible to begin to draw complete conclusions, to analyze what was happening without misunderstandings and understatement, without assumptions and bare theories that rely only on my knowledge of the canon.

And it was bad enough with her at school throughout the year. Many undergraduates ordered the distribution of the Daily Prophet and other newspapers through owls, but no one thought to provide them to freshmen. A similar situation happened with the library - there was nothing about the immediate history of magical Britain! There were no files of old newspapers, no books-autobiographies of contemporaries... No way.

I existed all this year in fact in a vacuum, content only with what the teachers themselves told me, and what my classmates knew, who were not well versed in the political situation of the country or retold words from propaganda sources that could not be blindly trusted.

Fortunately, the first course was close to its completion, after which everything should change. It was comparable to growing out of a sandbox, which has its own difficulties, but at the same time a new, huge and much more dangerous world awaits you, which you will have to carefully explore.

June 28th.

The days passed, and summer had already managed to give us warm bright days, penetrating the rays of the bright sun into many corners of the castle. He seemed to come to life, became much brighter and more friendly to the students. The stairs stopped playing pranks, the teachers were not so angry and strict, and even the food seemed much tastier than it looked.

The exams that terrify us have ended safely, and no one from the first year has ever received a "Troll" for any of them.

However, one should not think that the professors' assignments were insignificant in their complexity. McGonagall went through two studied transfiguration possibilities, Flitwick demanded to demonstrate all the studied charms one by one, Snape even arranged an eight-hour brew of the potion without interruptions, during which we almost managed to grow old.

Kingsley organized a test for passing the strip, and Madame Trick arranged a real Quidditch match between the freshmen. Other professors focused more on our knowledge, conducting surveys, asking essays and arranging snap tests.

And despite all their efforts to make life difficult for us, I managed to be the best student in the class, scoring Excellent grades in all subjects except flight lessons.

No need to think that it was somehow easy and simple for me. Yes, my consciousness was much more mature, but this only spurred me to study and practice the topics I was asked. I tried as hard as the rest of the students, gnawing my way through the granite of magical science.

All of us who decided to participate received points for the tests. Neville, Seamus and the other victims scored thirty to fifty points each. Those who remained unharmed - sixty to eighty. Ron was given ninety, Harry all one hundred, Hermione one hundred and fifty, and I, as the one who guessed the main riddle of Dumbledore, were given all two hundred points.

In fact, it was a lot.

— So the points are saved for the next year? I asked in surprise. For some reason, it seemed to me that every training course zeroes out your previous indicators.

—Yeah," Filch nodded, pleased, tossing a five-point red coin that I had just given him.

I still decided to take advantage of the acquired fortune, and ask a couple of questions from the Hogwarts caretaker.

— Only here there is a small detail - you have to take the points with you at the end of the year so that you can spend them on the next course. If you leave them in the castle, and goodbye, goodbye, savings," he parodically waved his hand, which was echoed by the cat's paw in his stomach, and laughed hoarsely.

"Thanks for the information, Mr. Filch,— I nodded politely. The old man obviously liked to be courteous to him, despite his overbearing and disgusting nature, — I have one more question, — I put another coin on his table, — who will be the guardian of Muggle-borns?

— Each course has its own and is appointed by the director, — Filch scooped up a new coin for himself and continued contentedly, — I can only say that for the success of the freshmen, you are lucky to have a guardian, hehe. And then there are those after which not all the guys go back to school. I'm joking, of course. Everyone will come back, wherever they go, from Hogwarts," he smiled with his crooked teeth.

— But you still haven't answered who exactly we will have.

"I can't say that," he shrugged, "it's not supposed to. And don't even think about a refund. Did you ask a question? I asked. Did I answer? Answered. Point.

Arguing with him was fraught with a deterioration in relations, so I just sighed and said goodbye to the caretaker.

Ahead of me was a farewell feast on the occasion of the end of the school year.

It is correctly said that time heals. And even more so when you are distracted by the routine of studying. Yes, I still felt infinitely sorry for Oliver and Dean, however, life did not end there. I don't know how the other students felt, but I managed not to dwell on the probability of my own death for myself and my friends, but to look into the future at least a little, but more optimistically. The upcoming holidays, as well as one conversation with Ron, contributed to this quite well.

— Here, this is for me, — he scratched the top of his head in his favorite way, — the brothers told me that I can invite some classmates to stay with me all August. Like, my parents don't mind, but you can do this - when I was little, Fred and George invited their Muggle-born friend to their house a couple of times. Well, would you like to come and stay?

— Is it really possible? Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, yes," Ron smiled, "I'll show you where the Weasleys live and all that."

"That's a great idea, Ron. Are you only inviting Harry and me, or someone else?

— Em... — he was a little embarrassed, — just you. It would be weird to invite, well, girls.

—Okay, I agree," I slapped my friend on the shoulder. It was a great opportunity both to leave the mysterious guardian as soon as possible, if he turns out to be another psycho, and to ask interesting and useful questions from Ron's family.

— Me too! Cool! I wish I could make it to my birthday," Harry complained.

— No, it's unlikely to work. — Ron shrugged, — only in August, but we can celebrate it a little later, right, Kyle?

—Yeah,— I confirmed my friend's words, "and we'll find a way to celebrate the thirty—first of July." Don't worry, Harry. We can do a lot with your mantle.

The invisibility cloak really held a lot of possibilities. If this was really one of the Deathly Hallows, then I still didn't understand why Dumbledore gave it to Potter.

In general, the director's motives were very vague. I didn't even know whether to believe his words about the Dark Lord, what he said in communication with Harry. Weaken Dumbledore through Harry Potter's death? How? It's all riddles, the answer to which I have yet to find out. I hope that it will be.

The graduation feast was gorgeous and noble, and the students were all happy and contented. And even though I already remembered the mood of the students quite poorly at the beginning of the school year, but in my opinion, everyone there was more collected and ready for difficulties, but now they looked much more relaxed and happier.

Despite all the difficulties experienced, this day promised to be remembered by us exclusively from the good side. To take a break from Hogwarts for two whole months - the value of this event grew in proportion to the hardships of study that we managed to meet.

We were gorging ourselves, talking cheerfully to each other. I couldn't remember having such fun. Each time we were either too hungry, or wary, as in the case of Halloween, or nervous, as at the very beginning of the year.

—Well," Dumbledore took the floor from his throne, "another year has come to an end. The seventh-year students who passed the TOAD will have to leave our walls forever. To the freshmen, I say, "Welcome to the family!" - applause rang out in the hall after these words.

The seniors looked at us, smiled politely and greeted the freshmen as if we were not finishing the academic year, but just starting it.

—Ahem," Dumbledore returned the silence to the Great Hall, "during this academic year, the first year has proved that it is worthy to join our team, become part of our school, and continue studying on an equal footing with other courses. Congratulations! — the applause was repeated, — now, let's find out the winning faculty! With these words, the cloth that covered the tall magic hourglass of each faculty disappeared.

The clocks that counted the scores of each faculty disappeared from their seats after Christmas, so the students did not know the winner until the very end, and the competition was very significant and noticeable throughout the year. I do not know exactly what preferences the winning faculty received for the next year, but the undergraduates tried their best to snatch the championship for themselves, and for this they did not even need to communicate with them in order to figure it out.

— Let's start from the end. Ravenclaw! Nine thousand one hundred and forty-four points. Slytherin! Twelve thousand four hundred and seventy-six points. Hufflepuff! Twelve thousand five hundred and two points! And finally - Gryffindor! Thirteen thousand six hundred and sixty-six points! Congratulations to the Lviv Faculty on the victory! — the Gryffindors cheered as if each of them had pulled out a lucky lottery ticket. Unknowingly, we joined the general faculty celebration.

I still remembered the words of that senior who threatened to give a "sweet life" to the lowest-scoring freshmen in case of defeat. Now he's supposed to become a school prefect, and potential problems with him have been avoided.

"So, the Hogwarts Express will arrive tomorrow morning! — Dumbledore began to finish his speech, without announcing the brave actions of the freshmen, as it was in the canon, — have a nice vacation for everyone!

"And we are waiting for you again, for new torments next year," I finished the director's speech in my mind.

The end of the first year.