The Saturday day off was spent almost entirely within the confines of the House common room. My classmates and I did homework, using both our own and library books, for which Zacharias and Justin ran with great readiness and no less great expenditure of time. It seems they simply didn't particularly want to study. Therefore we—Hannah, Susan, Ernie, and I—successfully did all the homework.
Cedric and other guys from the Quidditch team launched a flurry of activity, looking for candidates for selection as Chasers, or rather—for one vacant spot.
"...but the selection is only in two weeks..." fussed those who wanted to try out, but, apparently, in the best teenage traditions, dragged out preparation until the last moment. "The last moment" came suddenly.
In general, the guys caused a commotion.
Having finally received free time only by evening, I sat in the common room, watched all this peaceful bustle of kids in both ordinary clothes and school robes with yellow lining, and gradually got irritated. Fingers tapped out a vaguely familiar and very habitual rhythm on the armrest of the armchair by themselves, and this bright hobbit hole, called a common room by a misunderstanding, gradually drove me crazy. Not strongly, no. Just a tiny bit. But considering that no external factor could shake my peace of mind yet—a big achievement. Most likely, this is connected with shattered expectations; after all, I expected precisely dungeons.
Probably, I should do what I planned as soon as I arrived—write to my parents. But now, or later? So I sat, reflected, crossing my legs and looking at the same smooth, unhurried bustle of students.
"Got tired?" Justin stood next to the armchair half-turned to me, and also looked at everything around.
"Insignificantly."
"Hmm..."
"Is something bothering you?" I asked, continuing to watch the common room.
"Well, no. It's just you sit on this armchair like some Thranduil, inspecting possessions. A staff for you, maybe, and a sword on the belt."
Thranduil, yes? A familiar name, but by no means from elven memories, although it sounds exactly like elven. Seems like something from books, fantasy. Yes, exactly. Something similar slipped through in memories of as many as several lives. I won't focus attention. It seems this work unknown to me exists here too.
Taking parchment and a quill from the table standing nearby, I put the sheet on my knee and began composing a letter. This was surprisingly easy. The content, if one discards the fluff, boils down to several words and phrases: arrived well, settled in, they feed excellently, subjects are interesting, guys are good, Hufflepuff House, with best wishes, your son Hector.
"Letter? To whom?" Justin, standing nearby as before, inquired.
"To parents, of course. Parents, however adult a child considers himself, will always worry, languishing in ignorance."
With one continuous movement, I got up from the armchair and looked at Justin.
"Is it not my duty to dispel this ignorance?"
"Let's go, I'll show where owls 'languish'."
Judging by the intonation, Justin liked the word "languish," and I notice more and more often nuances of movements pecking through from shards, characteristic of these or those sentients. Hope elven arrogance won't climb out of me too strongly; adult sentients cannot accept it, and there can be no talk about children at all.
Justin led me away from the common room, along stone corridors illuminated by torches and hanging lamps with fire. On our, so to speak, basement level and up to the main tower with moving staircases, we met almost no one, but on these very staircases and adjacent corridors it was somewhat livelier; loners or groups of students went somewhere, importantly or cheerfully discussed something, and things like that.
Passing a couple of staircases, we got into another corridor, and from it—onto a large spiral staircase inside the tower. Every turn of the staircase there was a small glazed window in the outer wall of the tower, through which a view of the Forbidden Forest opened, and every two turns—a door into some inner room. The tower was not particularly wide, and the rooms hardly exceeded the size of a pantry, but getting there and checking was not possible; pulling one door out of curiosity, I could not help but notice that it sits in the opening so tightly, like an imitation, and magic securely locks it.
Rising to the very top of the tower, we found ourselves in a fairly spacious round room, dimly lit by only one matte lamp, but this was enough, albeit gloomy. A cunning interweaving of wooden beams and struts stretched up to the high roof, and along were rows of many perches on which owls sat. Now, when it had almost darkened, no less than a third of the owls, judging by free places, flew away on free hunting. The rest looked at us with their huge eyes. There was neither threat nor fear in them; magical birds are clearly smarter than their ordinary relatives of different species.
Taking a step across the room, I stepped on something and this "something" crunched. Looking under my feet, I saw a gnawed skeleton of some very large rodent. Only now did I notice that almost the entire floor was covered with a thick layer of hay, and here and there lay either skeletons or regurgitated lumps of fur. And it didn't go without droppings. Good thing the room was with many windows and openings, open to all winds, otherwise one could quite possibly die from the smell here.
"Well?" Justin addressed me, examining this not the most well-maintained place in the castle with obvious dissatisfaction.
"Hmm..."
As soon as I stretched out my hand and released magic in all directions, a large eagle owl immediately flew off the perch and landed on my forearm. Landed neatly, it is worth noting. Amusing, but it seems a local magical bird with a bias towards mail delivery reacts to such a call just like in the elf's memory.
"Huge, the bugger..." I could not refrain from mentioning the decent weight of the bird. Decent, but lower than expected by size. "What to do?"
"Huh? Give the letter, say to whom, and that's it. You can add where exactly, or wait for an answer or not."
"Is it free at least?"
"Usually yes," Justin shrugged. "What? I only wrote letters a couple of times. Owls here are mostly school ones, and work, it seems, for the idea."
For the idea? No. They are fed by magic. Probably that's why there are few skeletons here, and in the shop on Diagon Alley I saw treats in the form of cookies for such owls; part of the diet in the form of ordinary food, part in the form of magic.
"Here, owl," I handed the letter to the bird. "Deliver to my parents, Emma or Robert Granger. Wait for an answer."
I mentioned the request to answer if possible in the letter, therefore, as it seems to me, an owl waiting for something won't be a surprise.
"Hoot..." the eagle owl hooted.
Flying off my hand, the bird with a powerful flap of wings flew out into one of the numerous openings in the wall, disappearing into the finally darkened sky.
"Curfew soon," noted Justin, looking at the sky. "Time to return."
"Indeed. Let's go."
The descent was, like the ascent, uninteresting and unremarkable. But as soon as we ended up in a fairly dark corridor, events became more and more fascinating.
"Just look who we have here..."
I can recognize Malfoy's smug voice among many. Turning to the voice, I saw Malfoy himself, his two eternal large companions, and a quite decent brown-haired boy, his housemate and concurrently classmate.
"Mr. Malfoy, what an, I won't lie, unpleasant surprise," the elf turned on in me again.
Well, I can't do otherwise when such obvious rich kids stand before me... And what a word picked itself.
"The feeling is mutual. And aren't two..." Malfoy looked us over with obvious contempt, striving not to look me in the eyes because of my already "arrogant" elven mask, so unpleasant to anyone having at least rudiments of pride.
"...Mudbloods afraid to walk around Hogwarts in the evening?"
"Afraid? Of you?"
I myself had already begun creating the simplest and most effective magical contour designed exactly for such encounters. The elf used it so often during travels that this contour almost started forming in the floor under my foot by itself. And no, this is not some powerful protection and it is needed by no means for an attack. Cunning is the core of a lone elf's tactics. Even if the clash comes to direct contact. Just need to anger a little, distract, and that's it...