*****
How does a person about to be judged feel? I bet he is definitely not happy at this time, but rather the opposite: he is nervous, apprehensive, perhaps even afraid. How did I feel going to an audience with one of the most influential and powerful (not counting the archmages, as well as those who stand above them. If he exists, of course) people of magical England?
Oddly enough, I didn't feel any fear. Well, I don't feel much at all, I just emit emotions and that's not entirely successful. Throughout my journey to DDD, I felt focused and determined. Sooner or later I would have to meet, if not with Albus himself, then with someone who is at the same level (Albeit in a few years or decades). Perhaps the question may arise: what about Poppy? So I will answer: I don't know her full strength. Those stories that Dumbledore is supposedly afraid of her are perhaps not worth a second thought, or perhaps their time has simply expired. After all, strong magicians never stand still; their path of development is endless. And since our director achieved such achievements at a relatively early age, we can assume that he doesn't stop there.
Although, this still remains my conjecture and guesswork. Perhaps everything lies on the surface, or is hidden under the abyss.
As befits a Great Magician, in our case Albus Dumbledore, should own, if not a castle (Although Hogwarts belongs to him), then at least a high tower. In one of these there is the office and personal quarters of our director.
The path to this tower is not so long, just about ten minutes of leisurely walking. Having wandered along the corridors, we finally came to the stairs leading up, the path to which was blocked by a stone gargoyle.
In magical vision, this miracle, and there is no other way to call it, stood out very much. Its entire essence was saturated not only with mana, but also with runes, which created some strange, but no less bewitching picture. By keeping an eye on them, you can pinch them for at least a couple of hours. Not only that, this gargoyle had a semblance of a living aura! Marvelous! Either it was created artificially, or the soul of a magician was used in its creation (I learned all this from infrequent conversations with Og. This usually happened when he was completely drunk). Also, a fairly strong magical channel stretched to the statue itself, feeding it. The channel itself went somewhere deep into the castle, where it was lost among the other magical "highways" of the castle.
"Lemon drops," Professor McGonagall's dry voice brought me out of my reverie. It turns out that our director actually uses the name of the sweets as kings.
Hearing the professor's words, the gargoyle somehow "heavily" stood up and literally moved away to the side in a couple of steps, thereby freeing up the passage that it had been blocking until that time.
"Follow me," the request-command from Minerva's lips left no compromises. Well, let's go ahead and look at the Great Light Magician.
The ascent, which took about a minute, (although it should have taken longer, but I clearly felt the vibrations of space. Interesting...) led us to a high, wooden door entwined with steel strips.
Tapping the knuckles of the hoop, the professor began to wait for an answer. With some kind of homely creak (in fact, that's exactly what I felt. You know, like those sounds that are associated with something homely, dear.) it boiled in front of us.
"Come in, Minerva," an senile voice filled with kindness (how could it be otherwise?) will invite us.
Stepping into the director's office, I froze for a moment, amazed at him. I have never seen such a heap of everything possible. What was there: cabinets with books, several tables littered with various papers, a device reminiscent of a globe, only painful and consisting of gold rings. Tarot cards, fortune teller crystal ball. There was even a map covering the entire wall!
But guess what? All this created a unique atmosphere of mystery and comfort. The phoenix also played a significant role in this; right at that moment, sitting on a special perch, it looked at me with its golden eyes, glowing from within.
I don't know what kind of feeling came over me at that moment, but by some inspiration I walked up to him and extended my hand. Fawkes, that was his name, looked at my palm for several moments and offered his head for stroking. Well, I didn't miss the moment.
You know, stroking the phoenix is probably one of my happiest memories. That kaleidoscope of emotions that arose in me, as well as "transmitted" from this undoubtedly legendary bird, was remembered by me for the rest of my life.
Hmm, what happened magically? At that moment, mine enveloped the phoenix, thereby exchanging mana with it. If you remember, exactly the same process occurred during the meeting with the leader of the thestrals, although at that moment I did not focus on this.
The proud birds shimmering with all the colors of fire (well, it was, in its way, a "living" fire) was practically imperceptible to the touch. It felt like I was stroking not "feathers," but some kind of clot of living warmth. Indescribable feelings.
"Fawkes is an incredible bird, isn't he, Calder?" — the director's voice was so unexpected (how deep into myself had I been?) that I even jumped on the spot. Turning towards the voice, I found the entire teaching staff looking at me, Potter, with some kind of jealous look in bewilderment, as well as Dumbledore himself, looking at me from under his glasses with his blue pools.
"Change it, director," I said, reluctantly tearing myself away from the phoenix. "I myself don't know what happened to me." Just in an instant I was overcome by some kind of discovery. Sorry again," I said, bowing my head slightly. And really, what happened to me?
— Phoenixes are incredibly mysterious creatures. All their secrets are still not known, but I know for sure that they only allow the worthy to approach them. True, they decide for themselves who is worthy," Albus said, smiling kindly. - Okay, let's finish here for now. Now I called you for a completely different matter. Come here.
Approaching the round table (a reference to King Arthur and his round table?) at which all the teachers were sitting, I stood next to Potter and looked at the director expectantly. The main thing is not to look into the eyes, otherwise everything is fine. Moreover, stars were depicted directly on his "cap". Let's look at the bottom. Maybe, …
"Calder, please answer a couple of Professor Snape's questions, okay?" — the director asked good-naturedly, nodding his head at the professor. Nodding, I turned my gaze to the professor.
"Mr. Wilson," he began, like a stand filling his words with just a ton of poison and mockery. Really a snake. "We were informed that today a certain magical incident occurred in the Hogwarts Express carriage, in which the main participants were you and Potter, who was standing with you, but he did not call Harry Mister." How strong is his anger? Or another mask? Hm. "We have already heard his version of events, now we would like to hear your version of what happened," and at the end he focused the attention of his black eyes on me.
- Well, everything is quite succinct. Having met my friend on the platform, I went with him to the compartment that I had previously occupied with Neville Longobot," I began my story. "We ran into Mr. Potter in the carriage," a nod towards the black-haired guy standing next to him. — After exchanging a few words, we were about to say goodbye, when a clap sounded in pursuit. Well, the same as when an explosive explodes in the world of ordinary people. After that, there was dripping all over the car. Mr. Potter was attacked by a house elf. I don't know what he was up to anymore, but he wasn't in a very welcoming mood. Then there was a brief magical battle between him and Mr. Potter, as a result of which our hero emerged victorious, and the house-elf disappeared. After that, other students came running and crowded around the hero. Well, I, together with my friend, decided to return to the compartment as soon as possible. That's all," I answered, shrugging my shoulders at the end.
- Are you sure about that? — the professor asked, narrowing his eyes.
- Yes, nothing else happened.
"Then how do you explain Potter's words that it was you who defeated and drove away the house elf, using quite advanced spells from the school of ice," Snape's gaze became even more piercing. I also felt, through empathy, how everyone present here, with the exception of Flitwick (the goblin on the floor knows more than anyone else about my abilities in this direction), listened intently to our conversation. The only one I couldn't read, literally at all, was Dumbledore.
"Well, Potter made the main contribution, and I just helped him restrain the violent house elf," which means Harry can't or didn't want to keep his mouth shut. We'll take this into account later. He also didn't take all the glory for himself, although I was able to shift the emphasis so that it was he who made the main contribution to the victory.
- How do you explain your knowledge of magic? Where did you get this knowledge and ability? - what does this have to do with it? Yes, I showed "a lot" of things, but nothing that could go beyond the boundaries of what was permitted.
- Seriously? Is this what you decided to ask? - I tried to be "indignant". There is no point in offending small children.
- Don't be fussy, Wilson. And answer the question posed - oh, here comes our guardian of rules and traditions. McGonagall, unlike Snape, spoke more straightforwardly and now could not when someone got out of her picture of the world. Just look at the story of the flying bag...
"Okay," he shrugged, as if it didn't bother me that much. - Everything I learned from the school of ice is in the Hogwarts library. If you want, we can go there right now and I'll show you everything.
- So you are saying that you learned magic from the school of ice simply from books from the school library? — the professor's skepticism and distrust, it seemed, could be felt with your hands. That's how it felt. Although, he is a master ligliment, in order to evoke some emotions and forces he does not need to put in much effort.
- Well, yes. For almost the entire first year I did nothing but practice spells from this school - it seems that shoulder signing is my main movement in this conversation.
- What about your training with Miss Poppy? I remember you studied with her all last year. This means you shouldn't have free time - no, really. This is more like not a trial, but a real interrogation with bias. Why does Snape need this? Although it's not like that, why does the director need it? Is this really due to my too close communication with the replacement hero, as well as rare clashes with the former golden trio?
By the way, judging by the glance Potter gave me, he didn't know about this. He looked too surprised. And what does this strange sparkle in the cat's eyes mean?
It turns out that if Snape had not spilled the beans, the students, with the exception of Nev and in the future Luna, would not have known about my "apprenticeship" for a long time. Oh Snape, you damn snake. I burned this information.
— The most difficult thing in witchcraft is studying the whole theory. Both about the structure of sentient beings and about diseases and their symptoms. However, for me it was quite simple. I never complained about my memory," I again shrugged my shoulders (how much can you???) and answered the next question.
— You're not complaining about your memory, are you? And then what…
"Severus," Albus Dumbledore's voice instantly stopped him from further actions. You can immediately see who is the boss here. "Leave the boy alone, he's not under interrogation right now," the director scolded his subordinate. And before, of course, you couldn't stop it. Didn't faith really allow it? Or have you already learned everything you wanted?
Looking displeasedly at the director, the professor nodded.
"Calder," Good Grandfather Dumbledore turned to me. - Maybe you remember something else in that fight with the house elf? Maybe a name for example? — the look is so kind and kind, evoking a spontaneous feeling to tell everything right here and now.
"It seems he was talking about something with Mr. Potter, but I couldn't hear what exactly." "I was leaving after that explosion," I told the director. Well Harry, now it's your turn to take the rap.
- Nothing else? — I shake my head negatively. "Okay," Albus folded his hands in front of him and thought about something. — Does anyone have any more questions? Minerva? Sprout? Flitwick? No? Then," here he again turned his gaze to us. "You can be free, I bet you are very tired and want to rest," Dumbledore smiled grandfatherly. - Oh yes, fifty points each for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. You did a good job.
"Thank you director," we thanked him in one voice. "Goodbye, director, professors," after saying goodbye to everyone, we headed out.
Passing by the phoenix, I stopped for a moment.
- Bye, Fawkes. I hope we'll meet again," I said, "let's take a look at the bird."
Looking seriously into my eyes, this amazing bird nodded. Well, perhaps I have another acquaintance, perhaps even a friend.
The door closed behind Potter and me with a creak. The office is behind, and a rather long journey to the hotel is ahead.