Lunchtime—a wonderful time for "collisions" and completely, absolutely unexpected meetings. Of course, I'm being ironic, but the way feuding students sometimes look at each other when meeting in corridors is, of course, well…
This time I had to get to the Great Hall not in the company of other guys from the House, but together with those who were present at Ancient Runes. Students from the House of Ravens kept to themselves both in class and after. Daphne quickly gathered her books and, remembering my attention to them, cowardly fled from sin. In the end, I made the whole journey, in essence, in the company of a fairly hurried Hermione.
"Sorry I didn't approach you sooner," Hermione said as we walked.
"It's nothing."
"I didn't even know you were already awake. And then those Dementors on the train, the Sorting—only then did I find out that you woke up. Professor McGonagall said, when I was certifying the schedule the morning after the feast, that you woke up quite independent, and not an infant as everyone feared. And then this study, the schedule, subjects one after another until the evening…"
Hermione accelerated the pace of her story. If my memory of this life serves me right, she behaved this way when she was worried or, conversely, on the rise. To the girl's monologue, we reached the doors of the Great Hall, where groups of students merged into one stream.
"Simply put, neither you nor I know where to start at all," I nodded when we finally entered the Great Hall along with the stream of other kids. "Then, let's keep it simple. It just so happened that the moment of my awakening coincided with the disappearance of all opportunities to get acquainted."
Turning to Hermione, who immediately stopped, I extended my hand.
"Hector Granger, your brother."
Blinking stupidly once, Hermione shook her mop of unruly but styled hair and shook my hand.
"Hermione Granger, your sister. Older, by the way," she smiled weakly.
"Let's go to our table, we'll talk. Older," I didn't hide my smirk.
"Isn't that so?"
Sitting down at a free space next to each other and immediately receiving empty plates with cutlery, we began to put something meaty and side dishes from common plates served "to the table"—an infrequent manner of serving, because usually portions are individual. The guys from my House didn't attach much importance to the fact that a Gryffindor was sitting at the table, because guests from other Houses sometimes visit us.
"Well, despite my past condition, I remember everything."
Hermione looked at me with obvious doubt not only in her gaze but also in her facial expression as a whole.
"Don't believe me? I remember how at five years old you heard somewhere that you were too small to use curse words."
My sister stared at me with doubt and disbelief, and House colleagues sitting at the table tried to move closer under the pretext of filling their plates with dishes from the common ones.
"For about two months you walked around the house like such an important fluffy hamster, and if parents didn't see, inserted a strong word with or without reason," I really remembered this. "And with every, absolutely every word you became more and more important and 'adult'. Until Mom applied the educational belt to you."
"Right! I remembered," Hermione beamed, but immediately stared at me condemningly. "You could have remembered something else."
"Yeah, like how you hid 'adult' books from parents in my room?" I smirked benevolently. "Or, how at nine years old you gave me, considering my condition, a three-hour lecture-rehearsal of your own speech about how I am a 'wrong' patient and sick not according to the book?"
"Oh, okay, I got it, enough," with a light smile Hermione threw up her hands in a defensive gesture, holding a fork in one of them. "And you… You…"
"And there is nothing to say," I summed up, sipping pumpkin juice from a glass. "Before recovery, I did only a few things. Stared at the wall, drew or painted, wrote unknown formulas, and went to the toilet."
"Yes…" my sister nodded much more dejectedly, starting to somehow awkwardly pick at the plate of food.
Respect to the students around, as they say, because despite curiosity, they did not violate personal space and did not climb with questions right now.
Eating lunch without much appetite, Hermione awkwardly twisted the mug with juice in her hands.
"It turned out very awkward. I mean, in the summer. I needed to meet you with our parents. But Madam Pomfrey's most optimistic forecasts said that you would be sick for another six months minimum. So I decided that it would be great to meet you around Christmas in the Hospital Wing. And not very great if you turned out to be psychologically and skill-wise slightly…"
"Underdeveloped?"
Looking into my eyes and seeing no mockery or taunt there, Hermione nodded. Well, why not? Maybe I don't have that much life experience, because the shards are extremely incomplete in this regard, but I am not a "pure" thirteen-year-old to be offended by trifles.
"Yes," my sister nodded.
As if waking up, she looked around and noticed that the students had already begun to leave the Great Hall. Yes, the lunch break—it is the longest, but time, no matter how you twist it, is not rubber.
"We probably need to run. By the way, don't be offended at our parents that they stopped visiting you while you were in the Hospital Wing. I read that it is extremely difficult for Muggles to be in places where wizards are actively casting spells. They start psychologically looking for a reason not to return there."
I nodded at this and quickly finished the remaining juice. In principle, something similar was observed in some pieces of memories of the shards. Take even the same elf. For about twenty years he taught at the Imperial Academy of Magic, which was in the capital. There was a peculiar exclusion zone around it, formed by itself—ordinary people were simply uncomfortable being nearby. Pity, how pitiful that I have almost no memories of this, only a dozen vague images.
"You are always in such a hurry, bustle, running back and forth," I noted, also getting up from the table.
"I took all the elective subjects. It's even good that because of the Dementors they changed the schedule, making it quite linear. Under the old schedule options with many groups, I most likely wouldn't have been able to attend some subjects."
We left the Great Hall and headed back to the Ancient Runes classroom. Yes, a double lesson. That's what I decided to ask about.
"And weren't there double lessons before?"
"According to the stories of older years, usually separate hours are allotted for additional classes. Different subjects often took place at the same time, so it was practically impossible to visit them. Was."
"Hmm, clear-clear," I nodded as we walked leisurely along the corridors.
From around the corner of the next corridor intersection steered Daphne, who had just waved goodbye to a plump tall girl in Slytherin colours, our classmate. That girl went the other way, and Daphne ended up almost next to us. Actually, like the three Ravenclaws who walked quite far ahead.
"Greengrass," I immediately nodded with a slight smile.
"Granger… and Granger."
Hermione immediately assumed an offended and detached look, expressing her "Pah." By the way, Daphne did the same, and her "Pah" was not demonstrative, but at the same time much more qualitative, perhaps. But besides that, she pressed her school bag tighter to herself, which hung from her shoulder.
"I noticed you have an overabundance of books on runes…"
"Won't give, mine, end of story."
"You're breaking my heart."
"Then you need to hurry to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey is a great specialist in injuries of various kinds."
"I don't understand," Hermione shook her head. "How can you, Hector, be so different?"
"Different?"
"Yes. Sometimes understanding, sometimes smart and serious, sometimes arrogant, eclipsing even Malfoy with this. And with the guys from Hufflepuff generally simple, familiar, as if you studied with them from the very beginning. Somehow even hypocritical on the side."
"You don't grasp the essence, Granger," Daphne spoke instead of me. "He behaves as the situation requires. From his point of view. Pursuing his goals. Is it hypocritical? Oh, yes!"
Daphne smirked, glancing at us for a moment.
"But life is generally a complicated thing."
We approached the doors of the classroom, and inside the Ravenclaws who arrived a little earlier had already taken their seats.
"All the world's a stage," Daphne continued her monologue, entering the classroom. "And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances…"
Daphne looked slyly at Hermione as we walked between the rows of tables to our seats, but Hermione just looked at the brunette in surprise.
"And one man in his time plays many parts," I finished.
"Shakespeare," Hermione stated the fact.
I occupied my table to the left of the aisle, Daphne—to the right. Hermione stood, looking at us.
"Didn't think you were familiar with the classics," she addressed Daphne. "I thought purebloods hated everything Muggle."
Daphne looked at Hermione with slight and almost imperceptible surprise.
"From the side, you seem smarter, Granger. Free advice I once received from my parents. Close the book and open your eyes. We ride trains, carriages, use radio, collect firearms, cameras and films for them, architecture, even those elevators in the Ministry, plumbing in Hogwarts. Although…"
Daphne waved it off demonstratively.
"No one expects any understanding from you."
"You?" aggression wakes up in Hermione.
"Don't ask a question to which you don't want to know the answer."
Hermione turned up her nose and looked at me.
"If you have any questions, be sure to turn to me. I've been here, after all, not for the first year and know a lot. And one more thing, Hector, I do not recommend communicating with Slytherins. It will lead to nothing good."
She turned around and went to her table. The Ravenclaws sat quietly and pretended to be busy, but as soon as Hermione stepped aside, Anthony Goldstein sitting in front turned to me.
"Given how you stood up for your sister in front of Malfoy, I expected similar here. Why?"
"Don't get into a quarrel between two women if you don't want to be the scapegoat. They have their own methods, they'll sort it out themselves."
Anthony nodded and turned away, and a moment later Professor Babbling entered the classroom. Well, let's continue the lesson.
---------------
Read advance +60 chapters on my Patreon
Patreon(.)com/TheRedSpell