With the beginning of the new half-year, time flew faster than before. The monotony and productivity of our everyday life were off the charts. Hermione walked pensively, often missing what was being said around her. Sometimes she wrote something down in the black-bound notebook sent by owl mail. I even got paranoid, and I examined it more closely - just a notebook.
Her training began to bear fruit, and the girl did not fall from fatigue after half an hour of practicing spells together with movement, and her arms did not hang down like a whip. I hardly got tired, but only if I stopped controlling the passive amplification from hemomancy.
I found some interesting recipes in the handbook of medical potions. It was a potion complex that is used to accelerate the recovery of the musculoskeletal system. There is a tonic effect, acceleration of muscle growth, strengthening bones, and so on. It would seem - great potion, why doesn't everyone drink in liters? It turned out there are several problems.
The course of potions can be drunk once every six months, not more often. For the course to really work, significant damage to the body is needed. As I understood from the description, the body itself indicates what needs to be corrected. If there is nothing to correct or heal, then the course of potions is wasted.
Over this problem, we racked our brains in mid-February and found the answer in a simple Confundus. Hermione came up with the idea, remembering stories about experiments with hypnosis. In these experiments, a person believed that a hot ember was brought to the skin, but a piece of ice was brought in reality. The man screamed in pain, and the skin swelled and blistered as if from a burn. Well, without charring and burning, of course.
We sat opposite each other in our abandoned auditorium.
"So. Are you suggesting that I put Confundus on you while saying that I am placing coal on your hand?"
"Exactly," Hermione nodded.
"And attach what?"
"Ice."
"Do you think it will work?"
"In theory, yes. But practically, now we will find out. Come on already."
We practiced Confundus for about three days, and again theoretically, each of us could impose it on another person. I took out my wand and pointed it at Hermione.
"Confundo. Close your eyes. Red-hot coal will now be applied to your hand" I duplicated with words the mental message that was put into the spell, just in case.
Hermione closed her eyes, and I conjured a glass of water.
"Glasiphors."
Ice immediately formed in the glass. I shook it out on the table and, taking it in my hands, put it on Hermione's finger.
"Ouch!" She shouted sharply and, bringing her finger to her face, began to examine it.
"Well?"
"Wait a sec."
We just waited for a couple of seconds, and in the meantime, a small area on the finger turned red and began to blister.
"Working!" smiled the girl but then frowned. "However, now it hurts."
We quickly ran to the hospital wing to see Madame Pomfrey, an elderly dryish mediwitch. She gave burn ointment and ushered us away.
"Now, all we need is a potion," thought Hermione, blowing on her finger.
"So we need to order the ingredients."
"How?"
"Let's find out."
The Weasley twins indulge in potions after school. Maybe someone else can perform our order, but at least this couple is known. We found them only in the evening in the common room.
"Gentlemen" I approached the group of twins and their black classmate with dreadlocks. They were sitting at a table in the back of the common room chatting about something merrily.
"Oh, Mr. Knight," the twins said in unison.
"What do we owe a visit from a brilliant person?" continued the first of them.
"I need some ingredients for the potions."
"No problems," the second nodded. "Half a galleon for mediation and a must-have list. Payment on delivery and remember."
"Nothing forbidden," finished first for the second.
"I agree. Now I will make a list."
"Okay!" both twins answered with a smile.
On a sheet of an ordinary notebook, I made a list in a few minutes using a standard pen. I returned to the guys, carrying nine more sikels.
"Here. How long should I wait?" I handed the list and money.
The twins looked at each other.
"Let's send it now?" The first asked the second.
"Let's go!" the second nodded, and both looked at me.
"Tomorrow. After dinner," they again answered in unison and briskly ran from the common room to their own.
I informed Hermione of the order's success, and she went to prepare the cauldrons and tools. Potions are brewed quite quickly, only half a day, although the recipe is rather complicated. If the ingredients arrive Tomorrow, you can have time to cook everything and pour it into portions before the next potions lesson. I can't wait for Tomorrow.
The twins delivered the ingredients on time, I paid, and Hermione and I managed to prepare the potions quickly enough. All in the same abandoned classroom. Then we tormented ourselves with physical training until the evening until our hands began to rise with difficulty. It was then that we imposed Confundus on each other with the formulation: "Each cell of the musculoskeletal system requires regeneration. Drink the potions." It was awful. An incredibly intense pain gripped my body, even though we had not planned it. Through pain and gritted teeth, we struggled to get to the potions and drank them. I'm afraid that if it weren't for Confundus, we wouldn't have gotten to the bottles.
It was only after the last potion was drunk that the pain subsided, but the effect was undoubtedly achieved. Now comes the fun part.
"It was awful." Hermione croaked, struggling to sit down at her desk. I followed her example, and it was not easier for me.
"I agree."
We were silent for a while.
"But now, for a whole month, we will have super-powerful regeneration of bones and muscles, which means we can train much more."
"Yeah…"
None of us expressed much joy.
The next day I felt perfect, and judging by Hermione's eager eyes, so was she. In the wake of a good mood, we decided to spend this month entirely on training. Only begging Madame Pomfrey for strengthening potions, like: "winter, cold, we don't want to get sick." We got them every time.
The first thing we noticed was an increased appetite. And on the very first day of our frantic training, we ate for two almost more than the first year of our House. I had to start looking for a kitchen, and it's good that I remembered its approximate location. Not far from the Hufflepuff common room, there is a large still-life painting where you have to tickle a pear.
In the kitchen, there was a whole horde of house-elves - small gray-skinned humanoids. Thin, with huge pitiful eyes, disproportionate heads, and caricatured faces. I want to kill them out of mercy. They were so delighted with us that I began to worry about my integrity - they would take me away for souvenirs and rejoice at their piece of "young wizards."
We were immediately fed, watered, invited to come in at any time.
"Let me guess," I said to a thoughtful Hermione as we walked back to practice in our room. "Do you think that house-elf slave labor is used at Hogwarts?"
"How did you guess?" She wondered.
"Well, that's typical for you. Before you jump to conclusions, you need to know as much as possible about these creatures. Don't forget - this is a world of magic. Logical, correct rules and norms from the ordinary world may simply not work here."
"I know," Hermione nodded. "But I heard that house-elves are not paid, they have no days off and vacations."
"Don't eat fairy pollen then."
"Why should I eat fairy pollen?" finally confused Hermione.
"Well, how is it - why? All bowtruckles eat fairy pollen."
"But I'm not a bowtruckle! Hey!"
"Do you understand now?"
The girl wanted to be indignant but thought for a moment.
"You want to say that they are not people, and therefore they…"
"Our values are alien. You need to find out everything. Perhaps in their category of values, they have even more than they need since they are so eager to work."
"This needs to be carefully considered."