Dark Hogwarts

I didn't have any dreams at all. One moment I closed my eyes, and the next I was already opening them, waking up to the blinding rays of dawn outside the window.

He turned around. My whole body was stiff and aching uncomfortably from sleeping on the uncomfortable stone floor. Every movement was accompanied by an itchy pain, which caused me to stretch my arms, legs and lower back until their condition improved at least a little.

The other boys were still asleep, and there were funny whistling sounds of snuffling coming from Seamus. After dressing in my school uniform, which, to my great happiness, was not wrinkled or dirty, I carefully opened the bedroom door and went into the living room. Yesterday I managed to spot a door leading, as it seemed to me at the time, to the restrooms.

There were only a couple of students in the living room, who were relaxing on armchairs and sofas, reading books or dozing, not paying any attention to me.

I looked at the round wall clock that showed 7:50. That means there's still more than an hour before breakfast. He went through a door that divided into three aisles - one had closed toilet cubicles, the other had a shower room, and in the third, massive stone bowls stood by tall mirrors, from behind which water taps peeked out.

In the farthest corner, I noticed a boy who didn't look much older than me, who was diligently washing his face. I even thought about coming over and getting to know each other, but decided not to impose myself, distracting the student from the water procedures. I put it off for later, going about my business, for which I came here at first - to wash my face and look around in an unfamiliar environment.

I stood in front of one of these bowls and looked in the mirror. Suddenly the reflection smiled at me:

— Well, hello, handsome, — it coquettishly told me in its squeaky voice.

— Em... Hi? — I felt stupid talking to the mirror. On the other hand, at Hogwarts, this can probably be considered the least strange thing — you're an enchanted mirror, right?

— Not really, — the reflection sighed sadly, — I am the spirit of the school, which helps students get used to this place. Do you need my help? He asked me.

—Well, actually, yes, I could use some advice," I replied thoughtfully.

With my peripheral vision, I saw that boy washing his face. He looked at me with fright, and when I turned around, he quickly stumbled out of the washroom. I watched him go with a puzzled look: what had gotten into him?

— Uh-hey, boy, — meanwhile, my own reflection in the mirror attracted my attention, — so, do you want to know what's here and how?

- yes. And what is required for this? Will you just answer my questions? Or will you say something useful yourself?

— I will answer any of your questions, — he hastily declared, after which he put his palm on the glass on the back of the mirror, — do exactly the same so that your hand exactly repeats mine. Then we'll talk.

There was something I didn't like about all this. An unknown spirit that offers help. A scared boy...

— You know, I'm going to go to the living room right now and come back. Don't go anywhere, okay? I said to my reflection.

— No, wait, wait, where are you going? I'm actually a wandering spirit, traveling between the mirrors of the castle. I'm here now, and I won't be here in a minute. Don't miss your chance, boy, put your hand up," he begged me ingratiatingly.

There was clearly some kind of setup here.

"I can't think of any questions, so I'll try to find you later," I said goodbye, returning to the living room.

— Wait, no, no, wait-oh-oh! — it came from the mirror, but I simply ignored it.

I saw that boy in the living room - he was already starting to climb the stairs to the bedrooms. I hurried to him:

—Hey, wait," I said after him, which is why he stopped.

— Why did you leave? Do you know anything about this mirror?

He lowered his head to the floor and moved on.

— Stop right there! I pulled him back by the arm.

— Let go! — he shouted back, — don't bother me, — the boy ran off to his bedroom.

Weirder and weirder, weirder and weirder.

Despite our little skirmish, I was still ignored in the living room, as if I were an empty place for the students.

"Hey, don't bother the seniors with questions," a Gryffindor suddenly told me from the hallway.

— But why?

— I can't say. Just don't bother me, that's all. Find out everything yourself or with classmates.

— Is it difficult for you all to help answer an elementary question? — I was completely confused.

— Remember the director's words. And don't ask any more questions. No. Otherwise, you will face the consequences," he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and thereby indicating that the conversation was over.

I nodded understandingly, heading back to my bedroom. He may have answered reluctantly, but I still managed to get at least some clue out of him.

The director's words... I don't think he meant that riddle about the animals. What else did Dumbledore say? About school rules, the initial greeting... There were words about introducing freshmen to the secrets of the castle and....

"I hope that the senior students will find wisdom in themselves, and allow their younger wizard brothers to find their way into our common family on their own."

Here it is! The senior said he couldn't tell me anything. And the headman used a similar wording yesterday. "Find the way on your own."..

Does this mean that none of the senior students can help us with anything? Were they simply forbidden to do this?

I remembered the behavior of the students in the living room and at the feast. Not only do they not help us, but they should not interact with the first year in any way! Do not ask for anything, do not advise anything, and do not offend in any way. Even the Dylan who threatened us. He threatened to pay for a small number of points only next year!

Now at least it has become more or less clear. We freshmen will have to face all the difficulties alone. No one will warn us about the rake that has set up a castle for us, headed by the director. Only with our own foreheads will we be able to find out about their presence.

Stop. And the parents? I kept wondering why the parents of pure-blooded wizards and magicians in half-blooded families did not tell their children anything. And what if Dumbledore, having such a strong influence in the country and being in fact the most important here, forbade this? But in what way?

Perhaps if adults warned their child about the dangers here, then Dumbledore was somehow spoiling their lives? No, it's too shallow. Punished him to the point of murder? It already looks more like the truth. Although even so, strong and influential wizards would still communicate the most necessary things to their children. There must be something else...

But what if... Yes! It's so logical! If Hogwarts found out about the awareness of some freshman, then they simply increased the degree of danger for him at times! A few illustrative examples would have interrupted all further attempts at notification in the bud!

And training is mandatory here, for all magicians endowed with magic without exception. There cannot be much or little of it here - either it is there or it is not there. In this case, the wizards had to either accept the risk to the child, or leave the country, which, as I understand it, there are some difficulties here.

Considering my theory both ways, I found it logical enough to perceive it as the most likely. It only remained to understand how far Dumbledore had decided to go with such an idea, and why, in fact, he needed it at all.

Still, I couldn't believe that he, being some kind of sadist or psycho, would have climbed so high and stayed there for so long. So there is definitely a rational grain in the director's actions, it remains only to see it.

Having solved one of the riddles, it even became somehow easier in my soul. Deciding that I would have to go to breakfast soon, I set about the thankless task of waking up my neighbors:

—Come on," he shouted, folding his hands like a megaphone, "breakfast is coming soon, get up guys.

—Uh-oh," Ron yawned powerfully and fell back onto the couch.

—Damn, my whole body hurts,— complained a disgruntled Dean.

— Do some exercises. It helped me," I advised the guys.

— Have you been awake at all for a long time, Kyle? — a sleepy Finigan asked me, — all so cheerful and active. I'd rather lie in bed all day than go to learn something from monsters like McGonagall.

"It doesn't hurt to dream, Seamus. Don't worry, we'll do it better than you think," I was still inspired by the guess about the taboo on information and advice for the first year from students and parents.

It will be necessary, by the way, to make sure of your assumptions about the inaction of undergraduates. To understand the line that they were forbidden to cross.

When everyone finally woke up, warmed up and changed clothes, we all went to wash, brush our teeth (I somehow forgot about it) and put ourselves in order.

For some reason, on my first visit to the bathroom, I did not even think about one important detail. It became obvious when I entered the room with the washbasins and bumped into Hermione head-on.:

— Ay, — the girl squeaked, rubbing her bruised head, — where are you rushing to?

— What are you doing here anyway!? I stared at her in surprise.

— What do you mean? I'm washing my face, what else can I do here?

Well, yes, there was only one door, which means that the girls and I share a bathroom. And the toilet. And a shower.

— Hmm, I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't see you, — I smiled, — will you wait for us a little? And we'll go to breakfast together. I kind of remembered the way.

"Actually, neither do I," she muttered back, "but I'll wait in the living room."

While we were quickly doing our soap and soap business, I noticed two interesting points: firstly, there were no talking reflections, including the mirror in front of which I stood for the first time. Secondly, only the younger students, children aged twelve to thirteen, were engaged in water procedures. Not a single student from the senior courses was here, and did not appear during the entire time we were here.

Do they go somewhere else? I feel that it will have to be found out in difficult roundabout ways, no other way.

It turned out that Hermione wasn't the only one who decided not to go to the Great Hall without us. The other five girls were also waiting for the boys of their course, standing quietly against the wall near the exit.

For some reason, it seems to me that the reason for this was my rather adult behavior yesterday. Did these kids see me as a leader?

Although who am I kidding, I behave like a leader - I make sure that no one gets lost, I answer the headman's question for everyone, I wake up my roommates...

It would seem, why do I need all this? Somehow I hadn't thought about it yet, I wasn't up to it, but subconsciously, meanwhile, I was already doing everything to rally my classmates from Gryffindor around me.

Since I couldn't stand out even before the distribution, I needed to make friends and earn a reputation, even among very young children. After all, some of them, such as Harry, even in this alternate version of the Potteriana, are likely to play an important role in future events. Even if they may turn out to be completely different - both their roles and the events themselves.

And I can't be turned off these rails anymore. Let it bring me a lot of problems and headaches, and also because of this I can most likely die, but it seems to me that you can see death here from anything at all and being in absolutely any position - Kevin is a vivid example of this.

 ***

When I finally went down to the basement, I reminded the guys about the schedule, which we would have liked to look at before the meal.

On the wall opposite the entrance to the Great Hall there was a wide bulletin board, the lion's part of which was occupied by the layout of the main offices of Hogwarts and a small schedule of classes for the first and second years. For senior courses, most likely, the schedule was made individually, depending on the selected specialized subjects.

It seemed to be different in the canon, but here all four faculties attended classes together from their junior years.

Each lesson lasted forty-five minutes, and fifteen minutes were given for a break to get to the next room. Thus, school hours began at ten, were interrupted for lunch at one o'clock and started again at two.

The first year column looked like this:

Monday: Transfiguration (double lesson), Charms, Muggle Studies (double lesson).

Tuesday: History of Magic, Herbology (double lesson), Charms, Dark Arts.

Wednesday: Charms (double lesson), History of Magic, Potions (double lesson).

Thursday: History of Magic, Dark Arts (double lesson), Transfiguration, Herbology.

Friday: Transfiguration, Potions (double lesson), Muggle Studies.

Saturday: Broomstick flying, Household Magic (double lesson), Combat Magic (double lesson).

As a result, we had exactly five lessons every day, including Saturday, and after fifteen o'clock we were theoretically free.

— Oh, no! Seamus exclaimed when he saw the schedule, —double Transfiguration from the very beginning... Why are we being punished like this?

— Be quiet! — I shushed my friend, — what if she was coming downstairs now and heard you?

— Oh, — he was afraid of my words and looked around, — I didn't think.

— Next time, think before you shout something at the whole school. And the known evil is better than the unknown, as for me," I finished in a barely audible voice.

Our friendly company took the seats where we had been sitting yesterday and began to wait for the food to appear.

The large hall was rapidly filling with students, and since we were sitting almost at the entrance, many freshmen saw me, came up and greeted me. It even flattered me to some extent, but I tried to banish such thoughts so as not to get caught up. After all, I haven't done anything really cool or meaningful here, and in itself I was just a brand-new cog in the mechanism of the magic school.

Even Potter received fewer greetings in the end than I did, since in fact everyone was familiar with me at least formally, but they did not even exchange a few words with Harry during the journey, since he was completely at Ron's disposal.

—Well, how much longer to wait," Weasley complained to us, holding his stomach.

— You just ate a whole mountain of food last night, are you hungry again? Hermione asked him.

"But that was once, a whole eternity has passed since then,— he replied with a displeased face.

There were two times fewer senior courses compared to yesterday's feast. Only Ravenclaw differed from the others in this regard - the crows appeared for breakfast in almost full force.

And so, after some time, when most of the teachers were present at the teacher's table, at one point large pots of food and plates of bread appeared on the table, and glasses were filled with clear water.

I looked towards the seniors. All of them, when the dishes appeared, began to quickly absorb the food, barely noticeably wincing.

— And how do you order it to be eaten? Dean asked, looking at a piece of thick, sticky porridge that looked like rice stuck to a spoon.

— Yes, she's awesome! Ron Weasley was indignant with his mouth full, as he was the very first to try the school breakfast.

— We sleep on the bare floor, we eat unleavened porridge with water and bread, — short Sally Ann glared at the teachers' table, - and they have some dishes over there, not like ours, — this was the first time she said more than five words in a row in front of me - She didn't like the porridge that much.

"Hey, do the Ravenclaw have any other food, too?" Seamus stood up, trying to get a better look at the contents on their tables. They have salt and pepper shakers and jam plates there... There is even butter!

This was indeed the case - while Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were disgusted by the tasteless thick porridge, Ravenclaw had a clearly different diet - expanded and not so meager. Freshmen Voronov awkwardly looked around, catching the envious glances of classmates from other faculties, but in senior years there was no such thing, as if this injustice was in the order of things.

So it had nothing to do with us and was just another mysterious rule of the school. Do they have improved rations for some merit? Or is it because of the good relationship with the dean? My list of questions has expanded again.

— Let's finish eating, — I said after a couple of minutes to the upset cubs, — I hope everyone realized that we should now go back to the living room for textbooks and writing materials, and then go downstairs again for Transfiguration? Then go ahead, let's not waste time.

We quickly finished the meal, eating just as much porridge as our stomach required of us, and began new ascents and descents along the countless enchanted stairs of Hogwarts.

The paintings, by the way, really seemed to be alive, and hung mainly on the walls of the room with stairs. However, there was one caveat - they did not talk. At all. Either the sound should not pass through the paintings, and this is all Rowling's invention, or someone so enchanted them that the characters in the paintings could jump, wave at us, but they could not say anything.

Going up to the portrait of a Stout lady, I said the password:

— Happiness to the brave, — this very lady nodded silently, and the picture came into action, thereby opening a passage for us inside.

An undergraduate was looking at us from the faculty's living room. Having come to some conclusion, he whistled loudly enough several times, after which he turned around and slowly went about his business, putting his hands in the pockets of his robes.

It was as if he was standing on the lookout.

Moving forward through the corridor, I heard some noise and scuffling inside, but when I reached the living room itself, I did not see anything unusual: one senior was sitting on the couch, the other on the back of an armchair. Five students were standing in the far corner next to a bookcase and talking about something. And most importantly, no one seemed to pay attention to us once again, but with an observant glance I noticed details: one would pull at the sleeves of his robe, clearly nervous, then the other would squint at us and turn it away too hastily... There was something strange and unnatural here.

Thinking about the reasons for this behavior of Gryffindors, I headed for the bedroom, and my roommates invariably followed me. The girls went up another staircase.

Fortunately for us all, everyone had a cloth bag in their suitcases, which was indicated in the letter as part of the purchases necessary for school. Without such an adequate analogue of the portfolio, we would have to pick up what we need for each lesson and return to the tower again before the next ones to change textbooks. And so, we threw books on Transfiguration, Charms and Muggle studies into the bag, not forgetting about writing materials. We checked the presence of magic wands in our pockets, after which we slowly headed for the exit - there was still plenty of time to catch the lesson.

After crossing paths with the girls, we began to walk through the living room, moving towards the exit. I managed to surreptitiously notice how the seniors followed us with impatient glances.

I was obviously missing something. What were they doing secretly here that they even put one of their own on guard? Another showdown between students? It doesn't look like it, especially since they calmly showed us the first ones in all their glory, when one headman beat another in front of our eyes. What were they doing in the corner then? Well, you didn't look at the books in the closet, after all?

Stop. Exactly. Why would they even be there? In front of the bookcase, on the morning of the second of September, on the first day of school. All the necessary textbooks are in their rooms, and teenagers will not be interested in books for "easy reading" - only if Hermione does not move into them... Which means there's something else out there. A bookcase? Well, well.

"Wait," I said to my classmates, "can you wait for me?" I need to check something.

They looked at me with a mute question, but I did not go into details, boldly heading towards that very corner.

The upperclassmen were surprised at my approach, but did not say anything. I calmly walked over to the bookcase and began to examine it.

At first glance, it was an ordinary, unremarkable antique bookcase with three sections and five rows of shelves, on which all sorts of folios stood vertically and ancient statuettes huddled. I even doubted at first that there was any mystery here, but decided to try and check it out. In the worst case, they will just laugh at me, which in the realities of the local Hogwarts is not listed at all as a reason for abandoning the plan.

He began methodically taking out books one by one in front of the senior students, hoping to discover some hidden mechanism. And having gone through all the books I could reach in this way, I still didn't find anything. Okay, the first pancake turned out to be a lump.

But I have to admit, if there were no secret here, my actions would have already been ridiculed. And the seniors stood silently and watched what I was doing. I turned in their direction and started talking to no one in particular.:

— I think there is some kind of hiding place here. And you got into it while we were out of the living room. And since we are not informed about it, and I have not yet been sent away, then whatever is here, it is also intended for us freshmen.

— Look what a smart guy, we only found out about him in the second year, — one student whispered too loudly to another, for which he was immediately silenced by a not weak slap from another comrade.

My suspicions have just been confirmed.

— Only now I have to figure out how it opens, gets or appears. At first I thought that there was some kind of lever on the similarity of the book, but the idea turned out to be wrong... — then I noticed a wand in the hand of one of the students. Why does he need a wand now? He won't use it against me, which means it's been in his hand all this time? But what if... — And then I had an epiphany! We're in a magic school, right? Although don't answer, you can't. This is a rhetorical question - of course we are in it. So, maybe in the school of magic, similar secrets are revealed with the help of this very magic? — I took my wand out of my pocket, — for example, like this, — I put my wand on one of the books. It didn't work out. — Or so, — I repeated the action with another book with the same result.

I'm starting to feel stupid, but I'm continuing this performance, which my freshmen are watching as well:

— Or is it like this? — Bingo! As soon as I touched another book with my wand, the central section parted to the sides, and a real hiding place appeared in front of me! I was right!

The contents consisted of some kind of box and seven sheets around, on each of which was written a number from one to seven. Next came the names, and under the number "1" I saw myself and the names of my classmates from Gryffindor. There were some numerical values opposite the names. Almost all of them had zero, and only Neville and I were different from the others. There was a number "15" in front of my name, and he had a "10" with a minus sign.

Acting intuitively, I touched the central box with my wand, after which it magically opened. They were inside... Red coins? Yes, they glowed bright red, there were three of them and I was even a little taken aback when I saw them. Coins?

— Guys, — I shouted to my classmates, — come here.

They saw something happening to the closet, but nothing more, being afraid to approach because of the older Gryffindors.

— Yes, you are not afraid, none of the seniors will touch you, I promise, — I said confidently, thanks to which they nevertheless decided and all together headed in my direction.

"Look how cheeky he is," one of the seniors said with a grin, "and he's not afraid, after all.

"There's already too much to be afraid of in this school," I replied philosophically. He didn't say anything more, just grinned once more, and I still didn't understand whether he did it threateningly or not.

The curious Hermione came up first, followed by the rest of the company. I showed them the find in the form of three red coins:

— Look!

— Kyle... What should I look at? On your hands? — someone among the seniors laughed.

"Don't you see them?" The coins are red.

"Well, you don't have anything in your palm," said Hermione, offended, "is this some kind of stupid prank?"

— No, no, look, this is a hiding place, - I pointed to the closet, — Neville, come closer, I need to check something before I give my conclusion.

Neville approached timidly, shifting from one foot to the other.

— Now take the wand, — I put the coins invisible to the others in my pocket and closed the box, — and lean it here, — I pointed to the lid.

He repeated the procedure, and the lid opened again.

— Now tell me what you see.

— I... see black coins, two pieces.

— That's how it is... In general, guys, this cache contains lists where the points we earned for the faculty are indicated. Neville has minus ten points, which McGonagall took away, and he saw two black coins. I have fifteen written, which presumably she gave me for completing that assignment before the distribution, she just didn't tell me about it yet. And I took three red coins that you don't see. So the points earned, apparently, can be spent somewhere, but where and how to do it is still unknown.

Some upperclassmen grunted approvingly, and the freshmen loaded up with information.

— And why... — Hermione died first, — why, well, — she nodded her head in the direction of the senior courses, — they won't touch us?

— Oh, yes, — I completely forgot that I have not yet shared with them a guess, which has been confirmed definitively right now, — they are forbidden to interact with us. No communication, no help, no physical or magical violence. If they adhere to these rules so diligently, then the punishment for such a thing should be severe. So we're safe from this side, even though we'll have to find out every little thing on our own. However, do not forget that when you enter the second year, these rules cease to apply, so do not get arrogant and do not provoke our seniors," after finishing my speech, I saw approval on the faces of students of other courses. They obviously liked what was said, which means that my little impudence was not critical, and it is unlikely that I will remember it in a year.

— Now let's hurry up, or we'll be late for Transfiguration.

With new strength, knowledge and impressions, we began to go back down. On the way, I was sorting through my coins in my pocket and thinking about where and what I could spend them on. Apparently, there is some place at Hogwarts for such cases, but finding it can be a big problem. I wonder if if you follow the seniors, they will get very angry? And will they get in trouble for it?

Meanwhile, we were getting lower and lower. Passing the third floor, the wing that was not fenced off from all the others and was conditionally safe, suddenly a scream rang out from above:

— A coup!

We looked up with interest and saw how one of the moving stairs began to turn over with a stone crack. Once upside down, the stairs stopped, and we saw the upperclassmen clinging to the railing with their hands, and some with their feet, hanging over the abyss.

One of the most intelligent students managed to glue himself to the steps with some kind of spell. It was obvious that he was not particularly worried about his own situation, being confident in the reliability of his charms. The guy looked at us and grinned, clearly feeling and striving to show others his coolness.

The ladder stayed in this position for less than a minute, after which it turned over just as cumbersomely. Sounds of shortness of breath and sighs of relief could be heard from above.

—It's a good thing none of them fell," said Hermione, "I don't even know what would have happened to them then."

I replied glumly:

— They would have broken all their bones on other flights, or they would have hit the stone floor below. Unless, of course, there is some kind of enchantment, and something tells me that there is none.

— Yes, — Seamus shared his thoughts, — we were walking down that staircase about three minutes ago. They could easily be in their place now.

— Exactly, — I supported his words, — and it's not at all a fact that each of us would have managed to catch on to the railing and stay in this state. We should remember the possibility of such an outcome of events and be ready to react in time if anything happens. So if you feel that something is happening to the stairs, shout to the others and do not slow down yourself. Such vigilance can save our lives.

"Well said, boy," one—eyed Moody croaked from the second floor, "maybe you'll be good if you live to see my classes, hehe," he continued down the stairs, tapping his cane on the steps of another flight.

I said about vigilance, but he's right there. I wonder if this is a chance meeting? Or was he standing at the bottom to insure the seniors, knowing at the same time what would happen to the stairs?

Anyway, it was time for us to hurry to class. Having met Professor McGonagall, I was not at all eager to be late for her classes, especially since she gave me more points than she took away from Neville. You see, we will cooperate without any self-mutilation?

 ***

POV Hermione Granger. August 2, 1991.

Hermione woke up abruptly, swiftly. As soon as the sleepy bliss fell off her, she remembered what an important day it was, and how much the girl could see and learn today.

Miss Douglas said she would be here at twelve o'clock today and would take her shopping in Diagon Alley.

Hermione met the young sorceress about a week ago, when she came to their house after receiving a letter from Hogwarts, gave her parents special bandages and arranged for today's hike. From that day on, parents proudly wore armbands, showing everyone around them their contribution to the development and stability of our country.

— You are the few Muggles who have learned about the magic of your child and did not spread about it, waiting for admission to school. It's very good, it saved you from various dangers," she said then to her mom and dad, thereby expressing praise, "and you, Hermione, are also good for not telling your friends or at school about your abilities," the girl blushed then, but decided not to mention the absence of these very friends. Moreover, she will definitely find them among the same wizards of her age.

The morning flew by in business and worries. Hermione chose a simple gray shirt and beige skirt for the hike, had breakfast, and then sat down to an interesting encyclopedia. She was so engrossed in reading that she almost missed the doorbell.

"Is that her? It's already twelve!" - Hermione urgently ran downstairs to meet her escort.

— Hello, Miss Douglas, — when Hermione appeared, the sorceress was already met by her mother, — we were waiting for you.

"I told you, you can just call Imogen," the escort smiled.

She really looked very young and looked eighteen or twenty years old.

"In that case, Imogen, my daughter is at your disposal. Are you sure you don't need any money from us?

—No,— said Miss Douglas, "your pounds are not accepted in the wizarding world, and you probably won't have magic money." But don't worry, the Ministry of Magic allocates each Muggle-born student the required amount for necessary purchases. And I already have it with me. Are you ready, Hermione? — she asked the girl, - hi, by the way.

"I've been ready all my life, miss," Hermione replied enthusiastically, eliciting chuckles from those around her.

— Then go ahead, it's time to hit the road.

 ***

Diagon Alley was about what Hermione had imagined. With quaint buildings and shops, strangely robed passers-by and magic being created everywhere. Then a whole pile of dishes with a saleswoman advertising her goods will fly past them, then some children will squeeze a piece from an entertainment store in their hands, causing colorful sparks to dance around them, then another wizard will appear in the fireplace next to the entrance in a blue flame. With each passing moment, the magic struck her more and more.

"Here, Hermione, are your hundred galleons," Miss Douglas handed her a bag of money, "remember: you are free to spend this money on whatever you want, and I will only keep an eye on you so that you don't wander anywhere and get lost." I think you've learned the list of necessary items by heart for a long time, so I advise you to buy all these things first.

That's what Hermione did. I bought a magic wand from Mr. Ollivander, bought clothes at Madame Malkin's store, got a successful suitcase and a simple bag, took the required cauldron and other ingredients, writing supplies... All this time, Imogen, as she constantly asked to be called Miss Douglas, helped her with the choice of an item, gave useful advice and estimated how much money was needed for the remaining purchases.

Hermione left the bookstore for last, because she knew herself very well. If she had come here at the beginning of the journey, it is quite possible that she would have spent all her money only on books, frantically wanting to study as much as possible and being attracted by mysterious and interesting titles. Now she had a little over twenty galleons in her pocket. Fifteen of them went to nine school textbooks, and she managed to buy eight more books, spending almost everything else.

— Of course, all these textbooks are in the school library, which is why they are so cheap. But with access there, you may have problems... Temporary difficulties, let's say. You'll figure it out in due course," Imogen told her.

They left the store and Hermione's suitcase, which contained all her purchases, began to weigh quite a lot.

— Let me help you, — the attendant took the wand and pointed it at the suitcase, — The locomotive!

The luggage soared through the air, as if it now weighed less than a feather, and began to smoothly follow in the direction of Hermione, wherever she went.

"Save—for-oh," Hermione replied, amazed at the magic she had demonstrated. She will definitely need to learn this spell at school. And many, many more.

— Since all the shopping is over, we can sit at Fortescue's ice cream parlor. I still have to meet someone here... Oh, there he is! A young man came up to them, accompanied by a little girl about Hermione's age.

— Maurice, hello! — Imogen hugged him, - meet Hermione Granger, my ward.

— Hi, Hermione, — he winked at her, and Hermione was embarrassed, — and this is mine, Lily Moon.

Everyone got to know each other, said hello and the four of them went to a cafe. Hermione tried to start a conversation about magic with a future classmate, but she only answered questions briefly and was afraid of every shadow, which is why the dialogue as such did not work. Meanwhile, Imogen and Maurice were hugging each other and chatting merrily about something.

"Maybe Miss Douglas postponed our trip to Diagon Alley for today to meet her boyfriend?" thought Hermione.

The ice cream turned out to be very tasty: there were dozens of different types of it here and each of them had some kind of peculiarity. Hermione, for example, had icing and nuts constantly running away from her spoon, burrowing deeper into the loose ice cream. This amused her very much, but at the same time she wanted to finally try the escaping goodies that still did not want to be caught.

Having failed to find a normal interlocutor in Lily Moon, Hermione decided to chat with the escorts.

— And you, well, studied at Hogwarts together? — she asked the couple a question.

— Yes, together, only in different faculties. I'm on Hufflepuff, and Maurice is in Slytherin. We hardly talked at school, and we only got to know each other properly at work at the Ministry of Magic, which, by the way, sent us to accompany - this is part of our internship.

They talked and sat for a while, after which Maurice arranged a future meeting with Imogen and got ready to leave, taking the silent Lily with him.

— How did you like the shopping trip? Imogen asked her after they left, "I think it went well."

- yes! I really liked it," Hermione agreed, "thank you, that is, you, for accompanying me and giving me useful advice.

— Ha, you're welcome. You would know how rare it would be for you at school... Well, anyway, I'm sure you can handle everything, the brainy ones like you at Hogwarts can, if not succeed, then withstand all the difficulties for sure.

Hermione didn't quite understand the meaning of the escort's words, so she continued to share her thoughts:

— I really liked the books on magic that we bought. I can't wait to show them to my parents, and during the holidays I'll show them what spells I've learned...

— Uh, no, wait, — Imogen interrupted the flow of her impressions, — you should know one thing. The fact is that... In short, Muggle-borns like you don't go to the Muggle world on vacation.

— What do you mean? But my parents...

—Muggles," Imogen interrupted, "in a Muggle world where an underage wizard is in danger. I'm sorry, Hermione, but those are the rules.

"But where will I be?" Will I spend all seven years at Hogwarts?

— Of course not, — the escort hastened to assure, — there is its own system about winter holidays, but you will spend the summer with a special guardian wizard. It depends on him where you will be all this time. And when you graduate from school, you can visit your parents.

— But it will be in seven years... Hermione looked sadly out the window, "I won't see them for seven years?" It's not right somehow...

— But it's safe. Not only for you, but for them, believe me.

"But how am I going to tell them that?"

— They already know this, or they will find out in the near future before you leave. Don't worry, your mom and dad are adults and will understand your situation. Moreover, they are so proud of you that they will be able to let you go and will definitely wait for your return.

- yes...

For the rest of the day, Hermione's thoughts were all about that. In less than a month, she will leave her home, and she will be able to return there only when she becomes quite an adult. Such a magical day was greatly overshadowed by this news.