"Darkness and Abyss!" Harry exclaimed indignantly from about the third carriage. "How many people are there?
There were indeed countless people on the train. Almost every compartment, designed for six, was filled with seven or eight people. However, it was possible that the students from all four Hogwarts houses were simply gathering in groups so they could discuss their holidays, share news, make plans for the future, and so on. There were practically no free seats. And if there were, the worried looks of the students sitting in the compartments were enough to understand that the seats were not empty, but reserved for close friends. And Harry was in no hurry to force himself on anyone against their will. He could, of course, have simply ordered them to do so — after all, the minds of the living are not as soft and malleable as those of the dead, but Harry had no doubt that most of the people on the train would have obeyed a lifeless will — but he did not. His mentor had told him not to draw too much attention to himself, which meant he would have to be a little more modest than usual.
Still in the second carriage, the constant noise and jostling — not all the students had boarded and taken their seats yet, even though the train had already started moving and was just picking up speed — began to annoy Harry. In the third carriage, he got the impression that there were more people on this train than it should have been able to hold.
"To hell with it all!
Making sure there was no one else in the vestibule, Harry opened the window (for some reason, the windows in the Hogwarts Express carriages opened), closed his eyes — and a moment later flew out of the window in the form of a raven. Fortunately, the train was still picking up speed (a steam locomotive is not a particularly fast means of transport, and it accelerates at a snail's pace), so Harry kept up with it. He had planned to get to the carriage with the pets, where he would have waited out the journey in bird form and had a little nap, but he soon changed his mind. Well... "Changed his mind" is not quite right... A sharp downward gust of wind forced him to dive into the nearest open window to avoid being sucked under the wheels of the train. It must be said that he flew in quite successfully. He landed in a compartment with some very pretty girls of about his age. At first, they were startled by the unexpected visitor, but then...
"Oh! Look, how lovely!
The raven shuddered involuntarily at the enthusiastic voices. He knew voices like that... First they coo, and then oops — you're trapped in every sense of the word... Nevertheless, after a couple of minutes of cooing from the girls, of whom there were five in the compartment, and after one crumbled raisin cookie, Harry decided to behave like a tame bird — offering his beak, wings and back to be stroked, cawing loudly when one of the girls accidentally brushed against him, almost pulling out his feathers, or became overly bold, and generally behaving as a crow should.
"I wonder whose it is?" asked a girl named Pansy (at least, that's what she seemed to be called) distantly. "I'd like one of those cuties for myself..."
"What about your peacock? — her friend asked with a sly expression on her pretty face. She was not really a friend, just an acquaintance. "Well, you know... The one with the white hair and the rich dad...
"Dracus isn't my peacock, Green Grass..."
"Ooh, 'Dracus'... How cute..." No, Harry definitely liked this girl. She had a subtle and harmless way of teasing, instantly responding to the remarks of her conversation partners — a great talent. "Pansy, will you at least invite us to the wedding?"
"You know, Green Grass, I think I know why you'll never get an ulcer... Birds of a feather flock together," Pansy smiled nonetheless. Oh, this female friendship with all its subtleties that men will never understand...
A powerful flap of wings, and Harry found himself on the luggage rack. When tricks like that start, you have to get away from the epicentre. However, that didn't happen. There was a knock on the compartment door. Green Grass, sitting by the door, slightly opened the curtain covering the door window and smiled.
"Our poultry farm is growing, the peacock has arrived," Harry read in her eyes, "in addition to the chickens." "Well, shall we let him in? Or what?"
"Yes, let him in... He won't run away...
The lock clicked, the door opened slightly, and a pale teenager appeared in the doorway, with hair that was truly white, almost milky in colour. He was dressed immaculately, already wearing a green-trimmed robe with a crest depicting a snake and a silver "prefect" badge. His expression was bored, his gaze literally saying, "You're all shit, and I'm the Count of Monte Cristo." In short, he was a typical rich daddy's boy, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and therefore automatically considering himself superior to everyone else... And yes, his nickname suited him — he did look a bit like a peacock...
"Hello, ladies," he said, as if deliberately drawing out the words.
"Hello, Draco," the girls, except for Pansy, didn't seem too happy to see him. "What do you want?"
"Have you heard the interesting news?
"Your Highness has been appointed head boy? That's not news, you've been telling everyone who would listen since June."
"You're all very kind, Granger," Draco shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. My father said that Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts this year.
The compartment instantly fell silent. The girls' faces lost their feigned cheerfulness in an instant, and they became serious, which, to Harry, made them look as if they had aged a couple of years. Harry was intrigued by their reaction to his name, so he froze, pretending to be asleep, and listened intently.
"The one?" Gringrass asked cautiously.
"Yes," Draco nodded.
"But he disappeared with the Dark Lord, didn't he...
"We all know Potter's story, Pansy," Gringrass interrupted. "Draco, are you sure?"
"Absolutely," he nodded with a look that said, "Suffer, ignorant servants, and listen to me." "Father said that Dumbledore was rushing around the Ministry as if he had been stung. He checked and double-checked, trying to find the sender of a letter that had arrived at the Department of Education..."
"Well, yes, that's a sign, of course..."
"That's not funny, Millie," Pansy stopped one of her friends. "Rumour has it that the headmaster had his eye on Potter. Apparently, he even took him out of his destroyed house himself. But no one knows where the child went after that... The fact that the old man is stirring is a sure sign that he's still looking for him, even though he announced long ago that the official search had been called off... Apparently, he even nearly tortured some Muggles to death who were supposed to be looking after the boy... So yes, Dumbledore stirring is a sign.
"Then Potter is an idiot if he goes to Hogwarts knowing that the old man will be looking for him.
"What if he didn't know?
"Then he's a double idiot," Draco snorted. "Or, since he was supposed to be looked after by Muggles, he doesn't understand anything about the magical world. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be as dumb as Weasley and as naive as the Hufflepuff first years..."
The raven barely managed to keep from making a sound. Poor blond boy... No one has ever been so wrong... And he'll soon find out. Not right now, of course, but soon. After all, the master asked that there be no corpses in the castle. That meant he could arrange an accident for the blond boy in the courtyard or in Hogsmeade. However, if he had an influential father, it would be better not to take such drastic measures... This Draco respected gold, power and influence — at least, judging by the tone he used when talking to his father. Besides, this blond guy doesn't expect much from Harry himself. Excellent. There will be an opportunity to put him in his place by force or manipulate him through his vices. It's not that difficult if you're well versed in psychology.
While Harry was figuring out how to behave if he suddenly had to interact closely with these people, the conversation took a completely different turn.
"In short, this was the last straw for the Minister," Draco smiled smugly, as if he personally had controlled the Minister at the moment when his patience ran out. "This year, there will be an audit and inspection of the entire teaching staff at Hogwarts. Madam Umbridge will personally head the commission. You'll see, finally Hogwarts will be rid of all the idiots like that moron Hagrid. And if we're lucky, they'll expel a few unworthy students. As for me, I'd like to see Weasley...
"Oh," Pansy sighed heavily. "Goodbye, peaceful life... For some reason, I have a feeling that Potter's arrival will turn everything upside down.
Harry cawed indignantly, unable to restrain himself, causing the blond boy to jump up and even cry out in horror.
Nevertheless, the news he had received alarmed him somewhat. And, strange as it might seem, he agreed with Pansy — Potter's admission would definitely turn everything upside down.
And then it would be a matter of luck...
***
Outside the window, it gradually grew dark, the train gave a warning whistle and began to slow down. The Slytherins, who had been talking about their affairs, quickly stopped their conversation.
"Pansy, we have to meet the first-years.
"Why us?
"Would you prefer Weasley and Granger to meet them?" Malfoy sneered. "At least we won't lose anyone and we won't have to recruit anyone..."
Harry, who by that point was already slightly regretting his decision to travel in bird form, was inclined to agree with him. Halfway through the journey, the same red-haired slobberer he had bumped into on his way out of the Transfiguration classroom peeked into the compartment. After a two-minute conversation consisting entirely of subtle snide remarks (from Draco), accusations of collaboration with Voldemort (from the redhead), polite indignation and recommendations for the redhead to get lost (from the girls), and angry exclamations along the lines of "Potter is coming back, and because of that, as soon as he joins us in Gryffindor, you dark bastards will inevitably get your asses kicked," Harry decided that he would not go to Gryffindor under any circumstances. It was best to stay as far away from such inadequate people as possible. Slytherin wasn't much better, but at least they were subtle and polite among themselves. Besides, he was very alarmed that Draco had called Weasley a "blood traitor." Such words were not used in decent society. It was worse than calling someone a leper. Magically ill, cursed people. One should not associate with such people, or even live near them for long — it was worse than living in a plague isolation ward.
Draco's words hit Pansy like a stinging spell.
"No! We'll see you out! You're right!" She suddenly became embarrassed. "Draco, could you leave? We need to get changed."
Draco nodded (and didn't even blush! Harry even respected Malfoy's emotional restraint a little) and opened the door, stepping outside. Harry, hesitating for a split second between propriety and temptation, let out a deafening caw, flapped his mighty wings, and shot out into the corridor, nearly knocking Draco and Pansy over. While the girls giggled, Malfoy was indignant and dusting off his already perfectly clean robe, Harry managed to fly out the half-open door of the vestibule, where, taking advantage of the complete absence of witnesses, he assumed his normal form, dusted off his clothes — and tried to look as much as possible like a person who had absolutely no business on this train. It was time to reappear before the Slytherins. And what a perfect moment. Satisfied that there were no feathers left on his clothes or visible parts of his body, he went back into the carriage, almost immediately encountering the Slytherin prefects.
"Excuse me, are you the prefects?" he asked in the most neutral tone he could muster after eight hours in bird form.
"Depends who's asking," Pansy replied haughtily. "Who are you? I've never seen you before."
"Oh... Right, where are my manners?" Harry quickly recovered and nodded politely, as was appropriate when addressing those he considered his equals. "Harry James Potter. And the fact that you haven't seen me before is because I didn't attend Hogwarts before. So, are you prefects?"
Draco and Pansy exchanged glances when they heard his name. Harry understood them, so he didn't rush them. Let them digest the fact that a hero of the magical world had suddenly appeared. And they didn't even know the main surprise yet...
"So?"
"Yes," Draco finally snapped out of it. "Sorry, your appearance threw me off a bit.
Harry nodded, indicating that he had no objections. Draco, apparently having come to some conclusion of his own, continued:
"Draco Malfoy, Head Boy of Slytherin," he nodded to Pansy. "My colleague and good friend, Miss Pansy Parkinson."
"Excellent," Harry nodded. "As I understand it, we'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon?"
"Yes, in... — Pansy glanced at the elegant watch on her wrist. — In about ten minutes. Why?"
"As you know, I didn't go to Hogwarts. And I haven't been sorted yet..."
"And?" Draco urged him.
"And I'd like to know whether I should go with the older students or join the other newbies?"
Draco and Pansy thought for a couple of seconds. Indeed, this was an unprecedented situation.
"I suppose one of the professors will meet you," Draco finally replied. "And if not, I'd be honoured if you'd come with us.
"All right. Do you mind if I wait for you on the platform, just in case?
Draco's assumption proved correct — a stern-looking lady of post-Balzac age was already waiting for Harry on the platform. Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress and dean of Gryffindor House, who, as Harry understood from the conversations in the compartment, was under the unofficial protection of the headmaster. In any case, the lion faculty was forgiven much more than everyone else... But Harry knew a completely different McGonagall. The master showed him a memory of the day when he picked up the baby from the doorstep of the house on Yew Tree Way. The professor trusted the headmaster of Hogwarts as she trusted herself. And that automatically lowered her reputation in Harry's eyes to about the level of "keep a dagger handy during conversations." Yes, it was a long time ago, and Harry didn't blame her — after all, his life had turned out very well. But damn it, what would it have cost her to just go back and get the child?
"Mr Potter!" The professor couldn't see him, so she decided to address everyone at once in the hope that he would hear her. "Come here, please! I repeat! Harry Potter, come to me..."
"I'm here," Harry caught her attention. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"
"Ahem," McGonagall even choked a little when she met his gaze. Harry smiled to himself. Well, very few people can withstand a completely dead stare. "Mr. Potter, I am Professor McGonagall. How did you get here?"
"Thank you, very well," Harry nodded. "I'm glad to be at Hogwarts..."
Harry was genuinely pleased. Firstly, he had had a good workout. Secondly, he was no longer feeling sick, unlike on the train. Thirdly, even at such a considerable distance from the castle gates, the young necromancer could feel powerful streams of the death magic he loved so much, emanating, apparently, from ghosts. No less than two dozen ghosts...
"Mr Potter, are you all right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry smiled. "Sorry, I got carried away by the view..."
"I understand," the professor nodded sympathetically. "Please follow me. I will accompany you to the sorting. You will go after the first-years..."
***
"Abercrombie, Yuan.
Stumbling forward, the frightened boy stepped forward. He put on the Hat, his head only partially covered by it thanks to his large protruding ears. The Hat paused for a moment, then the slit at the bottom of the brim moved again, and a voice said:
" Gryffindor!
The Gryffindors applauded loudly, and Yuan Abercrombie hobbled over to their table and sat down, looking as if he wanted the floor to swallow him up and never show his face to anyone again. Harry smiled slightly. It seemed that this first-year student had already realised what a nightmare he had landed in... A clever boy, he would have to keep an eye on him... You couldn't lose sight of someone like that.
Little by little, the long line of newcomers dispersed. Finally, Celler Rosa was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall, pausing for a few seconds for dramatic effect, announced loudly:
"Harry Potter.
For a moment, Harry thought someone had dropped a shroud of silence over the Great Hall. Even the slightest whispering ceased. As he made his way between the tables towards the Sorting Hat, Harry was overcome by a powerful sense of déjà vu from his last walk through the graveyard: dead silence, candles, the fortress-like architecture of the castle, similar to a crypt, ghosts floating silently in the air, and unseen necrotic crap right in front of him, because Harry couldn't think of any other explanation for the hat's ability to talk, sing, and make conscious decisions.
In absolute silence (like any other necromancer, Harry, if he wanted to, could walk completely silently, a useful skill when communicating with the undead, who rely on hearing), Harry approached the stool and allowed the hat to be placed on his head.
"Necromancer?!" a frightened voice rang in his head. "How dare you...
"Calm down, my dear," Harry asked mentally. "Why are you so nervous? Nerve cells don't regenerate, especially in the dead.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't scream for the whole hall to hear so they can arrest you!"
"I'll calm you down.
The hat thought seriously. On the one hand, it sounded like a threat. On the other hand, it was quite an enticing offer for a spirit trapped in a decrepit piece of clothing.
"I was strongly urged to send you to Gryffindor," the hat muttered casually. "But you can't go there... There will be dead bodies. And I've seen enough deaths in a thousand years to want to see a few more.
"If it makes you feel any better, you definitely won't see me die...
"Immortal, are you?
"As befits a proper necromancer..."
The hat sent him an image of a nod.
"And where should we assign you?
"Is there only one training programme?
"Let's say so," the hat said warily.
"Then I don't care," Harry admitted.
"Really?
"Yes.
"Well, then... Especially since you promised to rest in peace... Then," the hat left his mind and announced loudly: "Slytherin!"
***
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