The morning of the second Thursday in September was gloomy, cloudy, heavy. The weather was pressing, hinting that rain would soon fall on the earth, and it was far from certain that it would only pour for one day.
My day began, as always, with exercise, a shower, and a trip to the Great Hall in a friendly but sleepy company for breakfast. The oppressive weather left us in a less-than-stellar mood, but we worked with forks and spoons with enthusiasm. Several owls brought letters and magazines, which pleased the recipients.
We had Potions on the schedule, just like last Thursday, but I don't think that surprised anyone. I, and even my shards, are used to a slightly changing schedule throughout the week, but it is what it is.
A disorderly crowd of students from different faculties reached the dungeons and the doors of the Potions classroom. Several Slytherin students were already standing there, but I couldn't help but notice an interesting fact—Malfoy was standing there with a bandaged hand, suffering selflessly and demonstratively.
"Who knows what happened to him?" I nodded in his direction as my classmates and I settled down against one of the walls.
"Oh, you don't know," Susan was inspired. "They say that he encountered a whole course of Gryffindors in the dungeons, bravely fought back, covering Princess Parkinson with himself, killed them all—only one remained—but did not come out unscathed. They cunningly lured Malfoy into a trap, planted an unknown poisonous plant, and it was this that caused terrible wounds to his hand, which will take another two months to heal."
It is impossible not to note that everyone who heard this speech had their eyes popping out of their sockets to one degree or another. Susan, having delivered all this with an exalted expression on her face, as if she were talking about a miracle prince, grinned sharply.
"Of course, he probably just stuck his hand in some bush to get these wounds, shirk work, and suffer. But rumors… they're rumors," Susan shrugged.
"Phenomenal," Justin shook his head. "Mutilation for indulgences."
"You know," I thought, "I only made a suggestion back then that Malfoy didn't want to fly in the sky with the Dementors. It looks like that's true."
"It looks like… They don't have a backup Seeker," you could literally see the gears in Zacharias's head reluctantly turning on his face. "Which means the team can't play for technical reasons. Which means…"
The pause in his monologue was too long, and we were already burning with impatience in anticipation of the continuation of his thoughts.
"…The schedule of inter-house Quidditch games is always the same. They are unlikely to rearrange the teams, but the matches themselves… Gryffindor will either be against Ravenclaw or against ours. What do you think?"
"We'll have to ask Cedric. He's probably in the know," I said, having expressed my logical opinion and turned towards the professor who had approached the classroom. "Good morning, Professor Snape."
He just glanced at me, and his nod was so insignificant that you wouldn't even notice it. I wonder why the others don't say hello? Well, it doesn't matter.
The lesson itself went smoothly, but the Gryffindors lost points due to the sloppiness of Ron Weasley, who melted the cauldron by mixing the ingredients incorrectly, and thanks to Neville. The modest, chubby boy didn't ruin the potion too much, thanks to Hermione's timely help, but the mistake with the order of actions was noticed by Snape, which did not go without consequences. Our faculty also suffered a little because of Hannah's hair falling into the potion. It suffered minimally, but no one was indignant—for the cause. The girl forgot to collect her hair and protect the potion from such things, simply by not hanging over the cauldron.
"Greengrass," I spoke to my partner for almost the first time, not counting the formal greeting. "How are things going with the extra Potions classes?"
I spoke, of course, incredibly quietly, and only Daphne could hear me.
"We can come on Saturday from five in the afternoon," Daphne glanced at me, checking to make sure the black strands of hair tied into a ponytail weren't out of place. "As soon as the ingredients are ready."
"I'm working on it. I think I'll have it done by Saturday."
"Wonderful."
"Stop chatting," came the voice of the professor who had appeared next to us. "If you have time to talk, you will also find time to supervise the process of preparing the potion."
The lesson ended rather quickly. Having handed in their potion samples, the students left the class and went to History of Magic. Of course, the guys from our faculty and I decided to skip class again in order to practice various spells and charms from the program, and just for the sake of something interesting.
In the abandoned classroom, where we had studied many times, everything remained exactly as we had left it. Is it a good thing that only we use it? I suppose so.
"Guys!" Ernie Macmillan clapped his hands cheerfully as soon as we locked the door behind us. "Finally, I get to show off!"
"Speak already," Hannah grinned, sitting down with Susan at one of the tables. "You've been bursting with excitement all morning."
"Really?" I was surprised, sitting down at another table. "I didn't even notice."
"Guys, guys, what did I learn," Ernie not very carefully dropped his bag on another table that stood next to mine and immediately took out a notebook from there. "Yesterday I found a very useful spell that we talked about."
"And he didn't even tear a page out of the book?" Justin grinned, leaning against the wall, but then jumping away from it. "Well, well…"
Finch-Fletchley twisted around, trying to see the back of his robes, which were heavily covered with dust.
"Well, how is that possible?"
"Help?" Susan pulled out her wand, adjusting a strand of red hair with her other hand.
"Please."
"Tergeo."
The dust on Justin's robe disappeared, leaving it looking clean and well-groomed.
"Thank you."
"Guys," Ernie, with a childish resentment on his face, again attracted the attention of those around him. "An important spell! Or rather, a charm."
"Go ahead and speak; we are all listening to you attentively."
"Patronus Charm!"
"Oh-oh-oh! Come on, hurry up."
Ernie put the notebook on the table and turned to the right page. Well, we all got up from our seats and surrounded the guy, looking at the notes.
"What handwriting you have."
"Oh, come on, Hannah," Ernie grimaced slightly. "Here, I found it. Patronus Charm… Blah-blah-blah… A powerful protective spell. I didn't write it word for word, only the important ones."
"We see," Hannah nodded. "But in general terms, I think many people know about it."
"Hector doesn't know," Ernie shook his head in my direction.
"Hector doesn't know," I nodded in agreement. "So, what's there…"
Quickly adjusting to Ernie's sloppy handwriting, I began reading the information about the charm out loud.
"Designed to protect against Dementors and Lethifolds. They can have many different forms, depending on the wizard, but there are generally a few, and they are all silvery-blue in color: mist, shields of various shapes, corporeal form, and wave form. Wave form?"
"Boom-boom-boom," Zacharias gestured to show the waves spreading out in all directions, like from an explosion. "Looks like a pulse."