The morning of the first school day this year was sunny and warm, and the light dampness left on the street from yesterday gave freshness to the air, filling it with the aromas of the forest. Yes, while the weather was good, I again went to do physical exercises outside, and even ran to the Quidditch pitch to train with the glaive. It, by the way, has been brought to perfect condition after the Tournament—commendable.
Doing exercises with the glaive, specially enchanted not for battle, but for training, and even in my bracelets, I felt how the muscles of the shoulder girdle and torso were mercilessly loaded. Legs, of course, too, but exercise complexes are mainly needed for the "top". Having finished with the slow part, focused on a complex, smooth load, began to work on speed. The glaive was heavy. Very heavy. At the same time, it slightly resisted the change of its position in space, but at the same time it was difficult to stop the movements. In general, I was satisfied.
While completing the complex with slow, measured movements, smooth and flowing into one another, again plunged into reflections on this weapon. How many different weapons conceptually resembling a glaive were and are in this world—in Europe alone there are many of them, although for some reason, the Chinese version in the form of a guandao is closer to me. But the idea of the weapon is quite simple—take a sword, broadsword, katana, or any other weapon, and plant it on a pole, instead of the usual short or not very short hilt. And you can cut, and chop, and thrust, and even at a distance. Yes, some options are more suitable for one, less for another, but the general idea is the same one way or another.
Having finished with exercises and shoved the glaive back into the backpack, I, pouring with sweat, headed back to Hogwarts—just enough time left for a shower and a visit to the Head of House.
Reaching the common room, in which there was not a soul yet, and silence and grace stood, I instantly found myself in the shower room, empty and cold. Putting myself in order and drying myself with magic, changed into school uniform and went to the Head of House.
The office, behind which Madam Sprout's chambers were hidden, was located in a rather interesting place. Let's say, there is one extremely short way from our common room to one of the inner courtyards of the castle, where the greenhouses were located. In this short enchanted passage were the rooms of our Head of House.
Entering without knocking—doors are always open for guests—I found myself in a spacious greenhouse, combined with an office. About half of the ceiling was slanted, made of special glass that made the sunlight not direct, but scattered, but bright enough and transmitting the right amount of ultraviolet necessary for plants.
These very plants were located in several rows, and represented mostly decorative flowers and plants, posing absolutely no danger. No, of course, if you eat some leaf, or drop juice on a wound or skin, you risk getting poisoned, and getting a light burn, but a number of quite ordinary, not even magical plants can boast of such properties. I remember, in my past life, my friend grew some terribly poisonous cactus, which bore the proud name "Fuc..." ahem... Ficus, in general. So my friend once scratched his hand on one of its thorns, it easily broke off and released a little juice. Result—an unhealing scar on the hand...
In general, a normal greenhouse like that, at the end of which was a large desk with a bunch of papers and other accessories characteristic of the working environment of high authorities. It was at this table that Madam Sprout was now sitting, intently sipping some herbal decoction from a mug. Just as I started to walk towards her, the front door opened behind me, letting in Hannah, a little sleepy, but overall quite cheerful and already having managed to spruce herself up properly for a girl.
"Hi," she waved her hand at me and together we went to Madam Sprout's table.
Reaching the Head of House's table, we immediately attracted her attention by the very fact of our presence.
"Good morning, guys," she smiled, invitingly pointing her hand to two comfortable-looking chairs. "Take a seat, although our conversation will be quick."
The chairs turned out to be comfortable not only in appearance, but also in feel, which helped Hannah relax a little—I didn't feel any tension anyway. Madam Sprout took a few parchments and handed them to us.
"I assume you have mastered multiplication charms for such cases?"
"Yes," we answered simultaneously, causing a smile and a nod of approval from Madam Sprout.
"Excellent. Then, I hope you will manage to distribute the schedule to everyone else. Now, regarding house clubs. We don't have many of them, here are the lists."
Madam Sprout handed over two more parchments on which there were only a few lines of text.
"Your task related to these clubs—the names of current heads are indicated there—is to clarify the number of members at the moment and get at least an approximate plan of activity for this year."
"I think," I briefly read this list, "there should be no difficulties."
"Excellent. And about duties. You, I assume, have already thought about the fact that until two in the morning—is too long. These are official figures, but in fact, it is enough to be on duty the first two hours after curfew."
Such a thing caused smiles in us, and I could not help but say a couple of words.
"This significantly makes life easier, Professor."
"Yes, I think so too," she smiled. "Actually, that's all. Hurry up, wake up in a couple of minutes. Need to distribute schedules and generally see that first-years do not get lost."
Hannah and I quickly left Madam Sprout's domain, and a minute later entered the common room. Empty for now, but sounds of beginning activity in the male and female wings were already heard. Nodding to each other, we each went in our own direction.
Reaching the first-years' room, I knocked, opened the door and went inside. Hmm... Almost ready. Won't have to introduce discipline—this is pleasing.
"Good morning, gentlemen first-years," I smiled.
"Yeah..."
"Morning..."
They mumbled in sleepy voices in different ways, although they were already practically in full combat readiness.
"So, wash up, get ready—I'll wait for you in the house common room. If need a shower—it's there," I pointed my hand further down the corridor. "But to get there need to get up before seven. Otherwise—queues. I do that, at least."
"But it's completely early..." a blond boy grumbled dissatisfied.
"I have such a schedule. And you, when get more or less used to it, can make your own. Waiting. But don't drag it out."
I went out into the common room, where guys from other years began to gather. Scratching my turnip, took out the wand and transfigured a table near the exit from the common room, which attracted the attention of some of the students. Laid out sheets with the schedule in six piles, created plates with numbers in accordance with the year of study. Wave of the wand, cascading charms, and where the sheets with the schedule lay, tall piles of their copies appeared as if by magic.
"Cunning," Justin smirked passing by, and took a sheet from the pile with a large number "Five". "Hmm... Difficult... I feel kind of lazy."
"Hold on, wizard, you'll be a Merlin."
"Yeah, twice," he nodded and stepped aside.
The table stood in the most visible place, at the exit, to pass by is decidedly impossible, even if you want to. The guys quickly figured out what's what, and began to slowly approach, take the corresponding sheet with the schedule and go somewhere about their business, or to the company to comrades, or somewhere else. Soon Hannah also pulled up in the company of first-year girls. She looked at this table of mine with slight interest and surprise, and led the guys to it.
"And first year?"
"And first we will distribute ourselves. Good morning, young ladies."
The indicated young ladies managed to become embarrassed and nod back, timidly wishing this very "morning" to me too. A few seconds later the boys also pulled up, and Hannah and I quickly distributed the schedule to everyone.
"And why not take things right away?" asked the same blond, clearly least shy of anything.
"Good question," I nodded. "Generally, to some houses, for example, Gryffindors, Heads of Houses distribute the schedule at breakfast. Same with Slytherins. The point is simple—so that newcomers walk around the castle more often, remembering it better. And older ones—so as not to idle. Believe me, if you don't find good company and various activities, then out of idleness you can get into all sorts of trouble."
"And yes," Hannah began to speak, addressing everyone. "There is a request, which I ask you to treat with all responsibility. Until you get acquainted with the main routes in the castle, do not run anywhere. I understand that all this is very interesting, but magic and sorcery—are not only beautiful and interesting, but also incredibly dangerous if ignorant. Of course, in the Hospital Wing you will be cured, but still... Did we agree?"
The guys nodded in agreement, although I could see with the naked eye that some of them were categorically against such an approach, and they just itched from thirst to explore at least something.
Soon we all went to breakfast, and Hannah or I briefly told about what we see in front of us, whether it be a door somewhere, a portrait of someone or some other trifle. Local ghosts, not counting the Fat Friar, did not bother us and our house much yet, focusing their attention on hyperactive Gryffindors. Well excellent.
Breakfast went normally, although Ernie and Justin now and then tried to friendly tease me, like: "Nanny, nanny", but there was no sense in this at all. Well, after breakfast, during which some first-years had to be hinted that it is better to eat now, since before lunch there will be neither time nor opportunity to have a snack, Hannah and I led them to the first class in their school life. Unfortunately, or fortunately, this very first class for the guys was Transfiguration. Oh, I'm even afraid to imagine how McGonagall's mournful purely academic lectures are capable of killing all children's enthusiasm. But this discipline requires both self-discipline of the mind and the ability to fantasize, and the first is more important at the initial stage—the brain needs to be developed, and there must be at least one such strict discipline that loads this brain.
We reached the classroom first—there was no one either outside or inside yet. Only McGonagall in the form of a cat sat on the teacher's desk.
"Guys," I looked around the almost lined up first-years. "Transfiguration may seem boring to you, and lectures—tedious and incomprehensible. Advice from me—overcome these feelings, and strain your brains properly. This is your contribution to your own future. This is my opinion. You can act as you know."
"One might think you are so good," a brown-haired first-year snobbishly turned up her nose. Hmm... Burke.
"And you, young miss, happen to not be a relative to one amusing Mr. Burke, owner of one amusing shop?"
"Even if so?"
"Have the honor to be acquainted with this expert in his field. But if we talk about how good I am in magic, then without false modesty ready to say that I am first in this school after the teachers. Believe it or not. You can ignore my advice."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malfoy and Parkinson leading Slytherin first-years.
"Abbott," Malfoy chuckled. "Granger. I keep wondering how did it happen that a Muggle-born became a house prefect? Was there really no one more worthy."
"Oh, Malfoy," I smiled. "Your attempts to expose yourself in the best light in front of first-years touch me. Think, since you are so good, then you will be able to at least catch up with me in academic performance, and better—at least on equal terms finish a training duel. True, afraid my hopes are not destined to come true."
"Hmm," Malfoy smirked. "We'll see."
"Parkinson," I nodded to Pansy, and she nodded back with a slight and almost imperceptible smile.
We led our wards into the classroom and went to our classes. But as soon as we walked away not far, met Gryffindors led by Hermione. Ron was absent.
"Another Granger," Malfoy smirked. "It seems to me that I pronounce your surname even more often than mine..."
"What, you talk about yourself in the third person?" I was surprised, nodding welcomingly to sister, who did not stop, only nodding back to everyone—was in a hurry to lead her wards wherever she was leading them. "Such a thing makes one wonder."
"You can not try, you won't spoil my mood..."
We met Ravens led by their prefects. And everyone was going in one direction.
"Vague doubts torment me," I began thoughtfully as we kept walking and walking along corridors, stairs, but did not diverge in different directions. "That we again will have to study all four houses simultaneously."
"Looks like it," Hannah nodded, and the rest looked equally in agreement.
"Wonder what the occasion is this time that we will have the same schedule. By the way, is it the same? Malfoy?"
"Look for yourself."
Draco handed me his schedule, and it was absolutely identical to ours. Returning it, I, like the others, turned on one of the flights of stairs and went towards the History of Magic classroom.
"Well, at least with you we will study."
"Do not feel special joy about this," Malfoy nodded.
Entering the History of Magic classroom, we witnessed the correctness of our conclusions—almost all guys from our year were here, not counting just a few, for example, remaining prefects. Well, except Ron—he is already sleeping at the desk. In advance, so to speak, before the start of the lesson. Many were engaged in all sorts of nonsense waiting for the start of the class, and I, seeing a free seat next to Daphne, headed there.
"Hi," I smiled at this brunette, who is becoming more and more pretty.
"Hi," she smiled sparingly, but sincerely and openly, considering that in society she prefers not real emotions, if shows them at all.
Taking a seat next to her, I even took out school supplies, like her, and some other students, and decided to talk a little.
"You look wonderful, must note."
"Thank you. You are also not bad."
"Just 'not bad'? Well, assume, for a guy even 'not bad'—is already a high bar."
"Right," she smiled again. "One of my distant relatives, an amusing old man, said once that a guy should be slightly more handsome than a monkey."
"Disagree."
"And I don't agree."
"How did you spend the rest of the summer? Letters, of course, were informative, but you can't convey very much in them."
"Where to begin..."
Even when Professor Binns's ghost flew into the classroom through the door, Daphne and I continued to talk, but quietly, practically in a whisper. Still, students around are sleeping, and some even write, and I cannot help but notice that this is not an easy matter, given the quiet and monotonous mumbling of the ghost.
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