Sunday morning, September 19th, found me full of enthusiasm to find Professor Flitwick and show him the bracelet. There is nothing suspicious about it, but knowing Hermione, she will definitely be happy if an adult, and a wizard, and a Professor at that, approves of her gift.
And I need a cake… Are these thoughts because of my sister's birthday, or because of the sweet dessert at breakfast?
"Justin. Where can I get a cake?"
"A cake?" the guy tore himself away from his dessert, unexpectedly served for breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Yes, a cake."
"Um… Order it from the house-elves in the kitchen."
"And why didn't I guess that myself!"
I didn't delay this matter. Cedric showed the kitchen on the very first day, but we, the "badgers," don't need to look for it—we walk past it every day. So I reached the large still-life painting without problems and tickled the painted pear. It giggled in a very real way, jumped in the painted plate, and the painting opened inward, letting me through.
The Hogwarts kitchen was impressive. But not with something amazing, but with complete "last century." It seems this is the only place in the castle completely untouched by progress. A large stone hall with extremely old-fashioned and simple wooden furniture, many stoves with magical smokeless fire, large tables that stood exactly like in the Great Hall, other trifles… And to this trifle can be attributed a huge number of small and disproportionate humanoids, skinny-skinny, with caricatured faces and large pointed ears. They were dressed in various pillowcases, towels, and other rags of varying degrees of wear.
At the sight of me, these creatures immediately showed joy and hurriedly approached. Such a reaction even caused apprehension. Those crumbs of magic that my body emits simply by existing began to be absorbed by these dwarves, and this surprised me—I thought that all magical creatures in this world are natural users of internal energy, but no. It seems these little ones have no connection with any energy dimensions.
"Does the young wizard need something?" one of them, who got closest, looked at me with hope.
The others expressed exactly the same hope.
"I do," I nodded, and this caused even greater enthusiasm among the little creatures. "Need a cake. Tasty, for about four people. Theme—a girl's birthday. But without overkill."
The shorties nodded furiously, being completely satisfied with the errand.
"And you, by the way, who are you anyway?"
One of those who was older, more restrained, did not rush joyfully to run and fulfill the request, and in his gaze at the others, old-man's joy for the younger generation could be read.
"House-elves, young wizard," this shorty creaked, looking at me. "House-elves."
"Pfft… cough…" I choked on my own saliva. "Elves?"
"Precisely, young wizard."
The elf shard burned with righteous anger, and I wanted to be sincerely indignant, but, strangely enough, grains of experience of this same shard forced me to cool my ardor, sit down and think. I didn't go far, and sat on a stool at one of the tables, and one of these "elves" brought me cool orange juice. And where did he get it? Although, what difference does it make—there was nothing in the juice except juice, and that is the main thing.
Elf… Elf is a verbal association of my personality base. It superimposed on the memories of the elf shard, which led to such an incident. In local realities, the word "elf" is associated not with that people, but with small mischievous fairies, imps, pixies, and other magical creatures. Those, "correct" elves, if you dig deeper into memories, have completely different self-names—Minnónar, Quendi, Edhil, depends on the languages.
In local mythology, too, there are mentions of a similar people, but if even wizarding literature is to be believed, this is a mossy myth of ancient times even for them, remade and embellished more than once or twice. Tuatha Dé, if my memory serves me right about those texts that were completely uninteresting to me and those that I saw in passing. Just wondrous fairy tales, strikingly different between the ordinary and magical worlds.
More or less coming to my senses from the unexpected discovery, with a movement of my hand I released a stream of unformed neutral energy, holding it back from spontaneous magic with my will. The house-elves instantly "sucked" it out of the air and began to work with even greater animation.
"Haste is useless, quality is needed," I said to the old and satisfied house-elf.
"Of course, young wizard."
Receiving an understanding nod from this creature, I hurriedly left the kitchen to be safe. It must be hard for them here, probably. These creatures are clearly predisposed to absorbing and accumulating unformed neutral energy, but such energy does not linger in space for long, striving to create at least something out of itself. I wouldn't be surprised if these creatures somehow attach themselves to a specific wizard, absorbing small surpluses of his energy. But, on the other hand, Hogwarts is an ideal place for such a community. Everything here is saturated with formed magic, and neutral energy is capable of staying here for quite a long time, albeit in a rarefied but unchanged state.
Going out into the corridor and reaching the main tower, I went via the moving staircases to the Ravenclaw tower, to the Charms and Spells auditorium. Knocking, I looked inside—empty. But the door to the adjacent office at the end of the hall was open. Passing the auditorium and carefully bypassing the books piled around the teacher's lectern, I reached this door and knocked on it, looking inside.
"Yes-yes?" responded Professor Flitwick, sitting at a massive and expensive desk.
"Good morning, Professor."
"Ah, Mr. Granger," he smiled, "come in, sit down."
Following the Professor's invitation, I walked into the office and sat on a chair opposite his desk. The office was purely working, not personal: mountains of papers, documents, cabinets with various teaching aids and books.
"What brought you to me on a lawful day off?"
I took the bracelet out of the inner pocket of my robe and put it on the table in front of the Professor. The small wizard rose in his chair and pulled the bracelet closer with magic, examining it through neat glasses.
"I wanted to give this bracelet to my sister for her birthday, but I would also like to make sure that it does only what it should, and nothing superfluous. You understand how dangerous and unpredictable items in the magical world can be."
"Undoubtedly, Mr. Granger," the Professor replied without looking up from examining the bracelet. "I understand you perfectly and fully approve of your choice. But if I find traces of Dark Magic or curses, you will have to turn to Professor Snape. He is the most knowledgeable among us in this area."
"Undoubtedly."
Flitwick examined the bracelet from all sides for another minute without lifting it from the table. Nodded to himself, took out his wand, and made a couple of passes over it.
"What should it do, Mr. Granger?"
"Protect from hexes, warm, and help the body cleanse itself of everything superfluous, improving the ability for self-healing and other… Hmm… How was it… Self-tuning of the organism, there."
"Amusing little thing," Flitwick nodded again, and began to perform another series of passes over the bracelet.
It took the Professor no less than ten minutes to finish this matter, put the wand on the table, and look at me with a satisfied gaze.
"The bracelet is completely safe and does what you stated. You can safely give it to your sister and not worry about anything."
"Glad to hear. But… Can I be a tiny bit impudent?"
"Aren't you 'already'?" the Professor smiled, squinting slyly.
"Indeed," I mirrored the smile. "The fact is that if Professor Flitwick himself writes a short note, saying: 'Bracelet checked and approved, use it, and Happy Birthday', then for her it will be a really very good gift. She is painfully dependent on the attention and approval of older and knowledgeable people. Doesn't matter knowledgeable in what."
"Indeed," Flitwick nodded importantly. "I noticed such a vice in Miss Granger. Well… It won't be difficult for me to write such a thing."
With a gesture of his hand, the Professor levitated quite high-quality parchment from somewhere, took a quill, dipped it in ink, and quickly wrote a note in extremely neat calligraphic handwriting.
"Here, Mr. Granger. Gladden your sister on the holiday."
"Thank you, Professor," I nodded with a sincere smile and got up from the chair, taking the bracelet. "Have a good day."
Leaving the office, and then the auditorium, I headed to the main tower. Turning into one of the niches, I took advantage of the insane advantage given by the possession of internal neutral energy—limitless, as far as brains, will, and fantasy are enough, sorcery. Wrapping myself in a tightly fitting and thick layer of energy, as clearly as possible, according to the precepts of the elven shard, I imagined how I become invisible to everyone, unseen. I had to strain quite a bit, and mainly just so that magic in its high concentration would not start doing something else besides embodying my desires. Yes, this is one of the difficulties of working with internal energy—the cost of volitional efforts is equal proportional to its volume and density. Although possession of such power gives limitless possibilities, the paucity of the human mind ruthlessly cuts these possibilities.
Raising my hands before my eyes, I didn't see them. Then I noticed that I stopped seeing my own nose out of the corner of my eye—an object that is always somehow in the field of vision. How absurd, after all, is the power of a wizard with neutral internal energy. The power is absurd, and how they teach "not to use" it—that is exactly the feeling arising from training. But this does not mean that there is no sense or benefit in this, and I will find, collect, master, and understand this benefit. With time. Groundless haste has never brought anyone to good.
In such a state, I headed to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who guards the passage to the Gryffindor common room. You can't pass by the passage—it's on a large flight of stairs, and outside in this place the Gryffindor tower closely adjoins the main one. There is nowhere to hide here, no secluded places, and portraits and paintings are everywhere on the walls. Although, the walls of the main tower are almost completely covered with portraits, paintings, and other animated living creatures.
I didn't have to wait long. Passing students didn't see me at all, and I maintained the charms, sometimes pumping energy into them. Costly… How costly this is! Wizard shards are indignant, seeing such a waste of energy. But they are indignant quietly—assimilation does not stop for a moment.
Finally, not a student of other Houses idly wandering around the tower appeared, not a Gryffindor leaving the common room, but specifically entering. Some curly-haired boy with a film SLR camera and a bulky flash.
"Fortuna Major!" he said to the portrait in a loud whisper, looking around.
"Correct," the Fat Lady in the portrait answered in a chesty voice, and it moved aside.
That's it. Top-secret information obtained.
With a clear conscience, I went about my business. For example, need to visit the library—Cedric advised several books about the magical world and various animals, and fiction needs to be taken for the next lesson, even if it is only on Thursday.
In the evening, immediately after dinner, I went to the Hogwarts kitchen, where the house-elves met me again with great enthusiasm. Solemnly, as many as four of them, they brought out a not so big, but quite beautiful cake with chocolate cream, and the inscription in the middle of artistically designed decorations with a bias towards a girlish style said: "Happy Birthday". Well, I myself asked without overkill.
"Here, young wizard," one of the house-elves joyfully распинался, when others hoisted the cake onto a chair. "Just as you asked."
The house-elves covered the cake with a box, tied it with ribbons, and generally gave it the appearance of a chic gift.
"You tried very hard, thank you."
With these words, I released neutral energy into space, and it was immediately absorbed by the house-elves, who came into a kind of narcotic high. Not interfering with them enjoying life, I took the package and left the kitchen. Looking around, I saw no one.
Concentrating neutral energy around myself, I forced it to change the distinguishing marks of my uniform to Gryffindor ones, and make myself inconspicuous to the eye, not catching attention, not causing interest. Of course, if under such an effect I show up in a clown outfit at a shareholders' meeting of a company, they will definitely pay attention to me due to inconsistency, but that's why I changed the symbols.
Reaching the entrance to the lion House common room without problems, I looked around—up and down the stairs someone was making noise, running, walking now and then, in general, life was boiling, but specifically here it was quite quiet and there is no point in waiting for something.
"Fortuna Major," I pronounced, and the Fat Lady's portrait immediately moved aside, opening the passage.
The long and low stone corridor ended in an outrageously noisy round common room in scarlet colours. Sofas and armchairs stood chaotically here and there, the fireplace was burning, students were communicating loudly, someone settled on the floor by the fireplace and was shamelessly cuddling, kissing. Normal theme. Look, some of the seniors were passionately playing something, occupying a table, a sofa, a couple of armchairs, and a windowsill, while now and then chugging something from dark bottles. Typical dormitory.
Not delaying in the passage, I walked as if I knew where I was going. But after taking a couple of steps, I saw Hermione. She was sitting in an armchair and reading a huge book. To her left was a table, and on the other side of the table, ignoring the girl's existence, sat Weasley and played chess with Potter. It created the impression as if they had never communicated, and now stubbornly do not notice each other's existence.
Boldly heading in her direction, I kept a smirk on my face from what was happening. But, do I care? Kids. They tend to sulk at others over trifles, but at the same time they earnestly consider themselves adults. It is lovely and cute, makes you want to give some tease.
"Hi," I leaned over Hermione, putting the box with the cake on the table to her left.
"Um…" she reluctantly tore herself away from reading the book, and clearly wanted to give some rebuke.
"Happy Birthday, Hermy," I put the bracelet on the open pages of the book. "And this is from Flitwick. Congratulations, and assurance that the bracelet works as it should."
"Hector," she issued in a loud whisper, looking at me with shock and surprise. "Where did the uniform come from… And how did you get in…"
"Is that important?" I smirked. "Look…"
I took the bracelet and put it on my sister's left hand. As soon as it was in place, it immediately shrank to a suitable size.
"It will protect against hexes and weak curses that they love to indulge in at school so much," I began to talk about the bracelet while Hermione continued to shift her surprised gaze from me to the bracelet.
"It will help monitor health, washing everything superfluous and unnecessary out of the body. And it also creates a comfortable temperature around you. Within reasonable limits. I do not recommend walking naked in winter."
"Hector!" she was indignant still in a whisper, blushing slightly. What, does she walk naked?
"Read the note from Flitwick."
"Professor Flitwick," she corrected, as if on reflex.
"And try the cake. You can make up with friends with its help."
"How do you…"
"Hogwarts is full of rumors. Don't be sad," I kissed her on the forehead, which made her blush even more. "Happy Birthday."
"Thank you…" she muttered quietly, but I had already turned to leave.
Just as quickly as I entered, I left the common room.
"And who are you?"
A girl's voice on the stairwell made me turn around. As I assumed, based on the voice, it was a girl of twelve or thirteen. Fiery red hair, a wary look of swamp-green eyes, regular facial features—a very bright and "correct" image.
"And who are you?"
"Answering a question with a question is impolite," the girl crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me with an extremely serious gaze. Ooh, I sense a violent temper. Manners are not needed here.
"Hector," I looked expectantly at the girl.
"Ginny. Ginny Weasley."
"Oh, very nice," I extended my hand, and the girl shook it purely automatically, pulling it back only a moment later.
"I haven't seen you among Gryffindors before."
"There is an explanation for this," I moved my hand from the neck down, changing the colour of the tie and other accessories on the robe, including the lining colour. "I'm from another House…"
The girl clearly wanted to shout, or something like that, to raise the alarm.
"…came to wish my sister a Happy Birthday."
"Sister?" this "Ginny" stared at me doubtfully.
"Yes. Hermione Granger."
"A-a-ah, so you are Hector Granger," only insignificant traces of suspicion remained in the fiery-red girl's gaze. "I've heard about you."
"Only good things, I hope. To brighten our acquaintance…"
Creating a clot of air around my hand, I took out my wand, which made the girl nervous, released a stream of a mixture of neutral energy and Life energy, embodying one of the "flower" contours from the elf's memory shards.
A flower of many fiery-red petals formed on my hand. Memory suggested that it looks like a Mexican zinnia, but that wasn't quite right.
"Fire Star, Astra Ignis. Needs to be kept in water, like a water lily," I passed the flower into the hands of the girl looking at it spellbound. "Living in water, it blooms with fire as if despite circumstances."
I touched a petal with my finger, along which waves of real, non-burning flame passed.
"How?.." not taking her eyes off the flower, the girl asked.
"Magic, Ginny," I shrugged. "I don't ask, but I hope that my visit to your common room will remain between us."
Smiling like a Cheshire cat, I disappeared into space, and the girl looked around, looking for me. Naive.
Well, mission accomplished. And most importantly, the moment is successful—surprised and, I hope, pleased, during mental anguish due to a quarrel with friends, and even gave a means for reconciliation. Even the blind and deaf would notice Weasley's craving for food, and he won't pass by the cake. The main thing is how Hermione herself presents this matter.
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