Usually they say that saving drowning people is the work of the drowning people themselves. Do I agree with this statement? Yes and no. Undoubtedly, helping someone, especially if it's not difficult for oneself at all, or for other reasons—is a good thing. But trying to help, to save those who do not wish to be saved?
An old moral dilemma of doctors came to mind—euthanasia. Well, not only it, but euthanasia most clearly gives an idea of the question, what should a doctor, a Healer, do. Should he, for example, help someone leave painlessly and easily, for whom for one reason or another, due to health conditions, there is only one outcome, sometimes painful and rather long? Should a Healer maintain life in a patient at any cost, even if it is absolutely impossible to cure him, and the only way with such "prolongation" is a slow, and every day more painful fading away?
An incredible multitude of such, and other moral problems can be dug up, but, as it seems to me, first of all in all actions one should be guided by one's internal moral compass, making efforts not to let it stray. Yes, "course corrections" from changing conditions are more than acceptable, but only that—so it seems to me.
Of course, there are other positions, views on life, on things. For example, someone will disagree with me, someone will say, like: "If there is an opportunity—take everything you want, don't look back at others." Do I consider this position correct? Yes. Like any other. Generally any. I understand and accept the most varied views on life, of intelligent beings, on their and my actions, but this does not mean that I will accept such positions as a guide to action.
Allowing oneself everything, without any regard for others—is easy. Is it good if you choose the easy path? Yes—I will answer. One can take into account opinions, emotions, and other nuances of people around you, planning one's actions, allowing oneself something or vice versa, not allowing. This is difficult, and even very much so. It is almost impossible to achieve goals without infringing on anyone. This is a difficult path. Is it good when you choose it? And I will answer "Yes" again. Any path is good as long as it satisfies the one walking it.
Approximately such thoughts were in my head while I levitated Nott's unconscious body behind me, moving quickly to Hogwarts, and his comrades could not keep up with me. Sensations of magic, the response from the message "find out how serious everything is?", told me that his condition was quite good, and he was subjected to a mental influence, passing out. But I decided to show public kindness and concern, "saving" the guy.
I was guided by the same thing carrying him into the Hospital Wing, and helping Madam Pomfrey when I held his legs so that he wouldn't kick. Why did our mediwitch allow me to be present? I assume the reason for this is my numerous statements that I want to become a Healer, and the case with Nott was not particularly complicated—she was convinced of this by conducting a quick diagnostic. The brooch was extracted from Nott's pocket with the help of magic, Professor Snape was called as an expert in such "ambiguous" items, his expert opinion was heard and a list of potions was added that Theodore needs to drink as soon as he wakes up. This role—to give the guy drink—was assigned to me, like: "In for a penny, in for a pound." The rest were ushered away.
Didn't have to wait long, and Nott woke up quite quickly. After a small introductory speech, I began to give him potions, and he drank them. I think if Madam Pomfrey hadn't also been standing by the bed, like hell he would have taken anything from my hands. With the last potion, the guy passed out again, and Madam Pomfrey thanked me for the help and ushered me away.
Outside the doors of the Hospital Wing, I immediately met Daphne waiting for me. Or news about Nott. Or all options at once.
"How is he?" she asked with slight concern, and this concern was natural, but weak.
"Not bad. Nothing special," I smiled and we went to the Main Tower, to the dungeons, because need to change for the celebratory dinner on the occasion of the arrival of students who left for the holidays. "Worried?"
"Naturally. Maybe he is unpleasant to me, but I have known him for a long time. It would be sad if something serious happened."
"Hmm... You know," we approached the stairs, along which rare students walked, and I cast privacy charms on us, the area of which would move along with us.
Such a maneuver did not escape Daphne, and I myself did not hide it, and the girl began to listen with great attention, expecting some secret.
"I knew that Nott planned with the possible help of other guys to slip me some potion and plant a Dark Magic thingy."
"That is..." Daphne paused while we descended, step by step. "I assume he consumed what was intended for you?"
"Yes."
"And surely, not without your possible help?"
Although Daphne tried to look not particularly interested, it seemed that she froze in anticipation, although we were just walking.
"I only returned to him what he prepared for me."
Relief and a slight smile—that's what I saw on the girl's face.
"But you could have acted tougher? But even helped him."
"Of course I could," I nodded, and we, meanwhile, passed another flight of stairs. "But why? If we were twenty years old at least, I would really have answered as toughly as possible, but not lethally. Let Nott not like me and build all sorts of intrigues, but he is someone's beloved son, grandson, maybe even boyfriend. Can punish in different ways."
"Amusing thoughts... I would probably get very angry and surely would have injured him very badly for such a thing. True, if overdo it, problems cannot be avoided. And what did Professor Snape say?"
"Flew into the Hospital Wing," I smirked, "quickly checked the brooch, waved it off, like, all sorts of nonsense, albeit dark, checked Nott, made sure everything was normal and left. True, swore quietly... Something about juvenile idiots... Think Nott has yet to learn a lot of new things about himself.."
"I am sure," Daphne nodded with a smile, true, this smile quickly disappeared when, having gone down to the dungeons, we met other students.
Half an hour later I was already sitting in the Great Hall, feasting with the rest of the students, including those who had just returned from the holidays—Hogwarts in full force. The newly arrived guys enthusiastically talked about the past holidays and celebrations, and only the first-years were more withdrawn, communicating mainly among themselves. The upper years enlightened the rest, telling details of the Yule Ball and other school news. In general, everyone rejoiced to one degree or another, and only Nott has to lie in the Hospital Wing until morning. Don't dig a hole for another, as they say.
. . . . . .
Strange. It's all decidedly strange.
No, really, nothing supernatural happened, but time flew by painfully fast. Just a moment ago, it seemed, we all dispersed after the evening feast in honor of the start of the new term, and now February is coming to an end, and it's the day before the second task. The fault, of course, lies with the professors in general, and Snape in particular.
The Potions Master took Daphne and me seriously. Every single day, except Sunday, we practiced potions for at least two hours. Sliced, crushed, chopped, tore, brewed... Studied one reference book after another, memorized, took notes. Brewed directly with Snape himself, repeating his actions and answering why the process happens exactly this way and not otherwise. And this constant pandemonium didn't end! There was practically no time left for myself—just barely enough to do homework and other training, and even that, mostly on Sunday.
At the beginning of February, Snape stopped giving potion recipes, but simply put ingredients in front of us, only describing in general terms the necessary result at each stage of brewing. We ourselves had to decide what, in what form, and how much to put in the cauldron. It started to turn out somewhat worse, but judging by the professor's face, he expected Longbottom-level results.
Need I say that in February Daphne and I looked like zombies? Well, the girl hid it quite well with light cosmetic tricks, although if you looked closely, you could notice traces of fatigue and exhaustion. I held up better, but absolutely every evening I sat in the common room and for at least an hour just watched the life of the house. It was calming and relaxing. With Daphne, by the way, we had no time for a single stupid thing. It even seems to me that Snape knows something, and took such measures to combat students' stupidities. And by the way, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was in a hurry somewhere. In a big hurry.
By mid-February, I managed to talk a couple of times with each of the professors who teach our subjects. Told them that I need access to the Restricted Section because I want to become a Healer, and there is a lot of material I need there. To the question of why such a rush, seeing as the whole life is ahead, I answered simply: "While I am here, at Hogwarts, and can visit the library." For everyone, this somehow dotted the "i's," and perhaps only McGonagall didn't immediately understand what it was about, but agreed that I am a rather responsible and reasonable young wizard, and if the Headmaster asks, she will have nothing against it.
Hermione was a little offended at me—helping little, not appreciating her desire to correct injustice. Well, I didn't get offended, continuing to help with her project as much as I could—two hours a week. No more. Her comrades, Potter and Weasley, with whom her relations became rather mediocre, managed, if rumors are to be believed, to get a beating from the guys from Durmstrang for penetrating the ship. If rumors are to be believed again, this couple went to reveal Karkaroff's insidious plans, who simply must, according to Potter and Weasley, obtain some advantage for Krum by various dishonest means, and thus victory in the Tournament. Stupidity? Well, one should not exclude such a possibility in any case, because purely theoretically, this could be true. But from the point of view of probability—unlikely.
But everything ends sooner or later.
The morning of February twenty-third began with the realization of yesterday's conversation with Snape just right after the next lesson. That was Wednesday, a hard day as it was. Daphne and I were pretty exhausted, brewing a potion without a recipe in two cauldrons each, simultaneously taking notes and building a theoretical layout on the interaction of the shell of some hop-skip-cuttlefish with the powder of a tree chameleon-snake tooth.
At the end of that lesson, Daphne and I sat stupidly at the table, watching Snape evaluate the results of our labors.
"Well," the professor spoke in a quiet voice, shifting his gaze to us. "I see that you are not devoid of purposefulness."
Daphne nodded somewhat inhibitedly. The professor summoned a chair and sat opposite us.
"I see that this purposefulness is enough to overcome difficulties, no matter what. This is what I wanted to see."
"That is," I tiredly leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, "was this a test, Professor?"
"Exactly," he nodded calmly.
"Sigh..." it was as if air was let out of Daphne, but a moment later she regained her proud posture. "I had already begun to fear that this would continue. For the rest of my life."
"Uh-huh," I nodded. "And this end was becoming more tangible every day."
"I needed to understand exactly," Snape spoke just as calmly, "that your desire to learn is not a momentary whim, or a goal that you would like to achieve just like that, in passing. Now I see that you really want to learn, and I imagine exactly what pace you can withstand. This gave me the opportunity to draw up an adequate individual training program that will not affect performance in other subjects, but will not drive you into the grave either."
"I see..." Daphne nodded. "Good. Understood... Are we free?"
"Yes," Snape nodded. "For today, as well as for the whole week. I hope you remember that tomorrow is a day off?"
"Yes?" we were surprised simultaneously.
"Did you miss the Headmaster's announcement? It seems I overestimated your abilities."
I didn't miss it, but I was really noticeably tired—never been so tired before. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Daphne was holding on potions... Although, in principle, a similar pace had to be maintained at the university in the last years, but there the organism would be more mature, more enduring both physically and mentally, and more or less hardened by the path traveled.
"The Headmaster announced," Snape continued, "that tomorrow is a day when parents of students can visit Hogwarts. Generally, this is organized only for the opportunity for champions' parents to meet with their offspring and spend the whole day with them. Ancient tradition. The Headmaster decided that it would be nice to give the opportunity to all parents in general to come on this day."
"Not surprising," I nodded, continuing to lean my elbows on the table. "Champions often died in the tournament. It would be generally ideal for champions' parents to meet with their children before each task."
Silence reigned for a few seconds.
"Driving hopelessness is my prerogative," Snape smirked. "I dare to assure you that security measures have been thought out as far as possible. At this Triwizard Tournament, the probability of a champion's death is so low that it is beyond the bounds of possibility. And now—to your rooms, sleep."
Daphne and I left the Potions classroom rather sluggishly, and I decided to walk the girl to her common room. But, as it turned out, Slytherins have a rule—to keep the location of the entrance a secret. Well, technically, those who need to know where this entrance is. So we had to say goodbye at the dungeon fork—Daphne one way, and me the other.
"I will sle-e-ep," she barely suppressed a yawn, closing her jaw. "Two days, probably. Although no..."
She thought.
"Four. Tomorrow is Thursday, day off, then Friday, task, also day off," she began to list, looking dreamily into nowhere. "And then Saturday... Sunday... Lovely."
Daphne turned to me, her gaze cleared, and she clearly intended to do something stupid, but students were still walking around—not too late. And she clearly had no strength to go anywhere, nor desire. Judging by her look, she definitely understood this. I wrapped us in magic with a message for a powerful misdirection, and the space around us swam a little.
"Hm?" Daphne looked doubtfully at the creation of my magic. "What is this?"
"Powerful misdirection. Only Moody will see us with his eye, and even that is unlikely."
"O-oh, wonderful..."
With a smile, albeit tired but sincere, she immediately pressed against me, clearly intending to do some stupidity, and I did not intend to refuse her this stupidity—I got carried away myself. And got carried away for a whole five minutes, no less. Still, still need not to lie to oneself, because who am I, if you look into it? A guy Hector Granger, who likes a pretty girl Daphne, and everything else is the fruits of my slightly crazy consciousness, a product of a soul from shards. Need not to consider oneself someone one is not.
"Need to go sleep," Daphne pulled away, smiling. "Otherwise I won't make it myself."
"Good night..."
...
Yes, yesterday was a hard day. But now I am full of strength again!
After all my morning workouts and procedures, after breakfast in the Great Hall, I planned to do something productive, but the Headmaster slightly corrected my plans. He announced that parents were already arriving right now, and recommended students not to wander off and hide in secret corners of the castle, trying to go about their business. We really didn't have time to do anything—already at the exit from the Great Hall, various adult wizards began to come across, students rushed to them, joyfully hugging and telling something.
Not without difficulty, I reached the Entrance Hall, where there were also already wizards, and along the walls one could notice Aurors or DMLE employees—although they were in civilian clothes, but characteristic movements, looks, arrangement of forces for better coverage of space... This was all easily readable. Or maybe they were simply present here, like the others, in the role of ordinary parents, and behavior—professional deformation.
"Mr. Granger," a familiar voice was heard from the side, and I turned around.
I noticed the Malfoy couple at the entrance to the hall, but did not attach importance, because what do I care? However, they approached, and Mr. Malfoy even spoke first. They looked, by the way, as always—dignified and quite elegant. Mr. Malfoy in dark expensive clothes and a black robe, and Mrs. Malfoy—still as chic in a lighter dress, but a dark robe.
"Mr. Malfoy," I nodded with a polite smile. "Lady Malfoy. Glad to see you in good health."
"Likewise, Mr. Granger," Lucius smiled reservedly, and Narcissa too, which slightly surprised me. Of course, there was no benevolence in the look, or anything else, but there was no hostility or contempt either. Neutrality. "Rumors reached me that you became a personal apprentice of the Potions Professor."
"Yes, that is so," I nodded again, agreeing. "Hope not to let Professor Snape down in this undertaking of his."
"That is commendable. Professor Snape is an excellent Master Potioneer..." Mr. Malfoy somehow even demonstratively held a fresh issue of the Prophet rolled into a tube in his hands. Wonder what's there? "Before, he hadn't taken apprentices yet. Try not to let him down, Mr. Granger."
"Undoubtedly. True, lately I've been working on fishing out access to the Restricted Section from the Headmaster."
"Even so?" Mr. Malfoy was slightly surprised. "And why, if it's not a secret?"
"You know, there are a lot of useful books, rare information, complex knowledge there. I need them in the future, and need to use the opportunity while I am a Hogwarts student. Where will I get knowledge later?"
"This is indeed a very, very difficult topic," Lucius nodded understandingly, and it seemed to me that he began to think hard about something, as, by the way, did Mrs. Malfoy. "And how is your success in this difficult field?"
"You mean begging for access? Think any day now I'll get it. And Professor Snape, I hope, will not refuse to help understand particularly complex topics or recommend more acceptable ways to master them."
"Well..." Lucius drew himself up even more than before, although it seemed that there was nowhere more. "It seems to me within my power to exert some influence on Professor Snape so that he does not refuse you such a trifle as help in understanding. Or at least recommendations."
"Don't trouble yourself," I smiled. "If we don't take the fortress by storm—we'll take it by siege."
Smiling at each other, we each went about our business. The reason for this, it seems to me, was the appearance of Draco with a company—Lucius shot a glance in his direction, and the Malfoy larva, otherwise you can't call this "Lucius on minimum settings," immediately headed towards us. Well, and I, out of politeness, did not interfere with the family meeting. Wonder what else will happen on this wonderful day of meetings?
---------------
Give me Powerstones if you like the story.
If you want to read 60+ advanced chapters, you can do so on my Patreon.
Patreon(.)com/TheRedSpell