Few students sat here at the tables of their Houses, doing the most diverse things. Earlier I didn't visit this place outside meal times, and therefore was slightly surprised by such liveliness. It reminded me of a peculiar university hall, or something similar. At least those forty people who were here represented typical students on a big break or during a window between pairs; loudly communicated, fooled around with various magical gizmos, read something, or made notes. A couple even played chess.
I noticed none of my own here, but of familiar ones Daphne was here, sitting at the Slytherin table together with Parkinson, a pretty girl with a bob of black hair. At their table were several more people both younger and older, but they all kept to their "age groups," discussing something excitedly. Well, as one acquaintance of mine said: "I see the goal, I see no obstacles."
My purposeful movement toward Daphne sitting at the table was interrupted literally at the very table by a guy significantly older. He had a decent appearance, actually, like the overwhelming majority of Slytherins. But, it seems, together with the well-groomed and neat appearance of the uniform in green and silver colors, a haughty mask comes in the set.
"Where are you hurrying?"
Arching a brow, I looked at the guy with bewilderment.
"We have not been introduced."
For a second confusion arose in the guy's eyes, but also quickly disappeared.
"At this table there is no place for the likes of you," he declared arrogantly, but without obvious aggression.
"Is this forbidden by school rules?"
"No, what are you saying," the stranger smirked. "Rules have nothing to do with this."
"In that case, I detain you no longer," nodding respectfully, tried to bypass the guy, but he shifted sideways, blocking my path again.
" did I not express myself clearly enough? You cannot be here."
More than once or twice I noticed how representatives of all other Houses communicate normally with Slytherins, but something tells me that these very representatives were not Muggle-born.
"What is not forbidden is allowed."
"I don't..."
"So stop me."
For a couple of seconds he looked at me with gray eyes, after which began to look for support from the side with a shifty gaze.
"And why all this then?"
I tried to bypass the guy again, and this time he did not hinder, and I successfully reached the girls who noticed me.
"Ladies, hope it's not taken here?"
Daphne sighed sadly, while Parkinson almost jumped up from her seat, as if wanted to throw a tantrum. In principle, that feigned dissatisfaction spoke exactly of this.
"Well there!" she was indignant, pathetically raising hands to the ceiling. "Now even at our table all sorts of Mudbloods. Where is Draco when he is so needed?"
Even though her voice was quiet, intonations were like during shouting. I only smiled, sitting opposite the girls.
"Did we say that it is not taken here?" Daphne tilted her head slightly to the side.
"So Parkinson said 'at the table,' so I sat down, so that your friend wouldn't be unfounded."
Girls snorted disdainfully, and Parkinson sat down again.
"And what brought you to our table?"
"Boredom and a business proposal."
"How curious," Daphne smiled slyly, and even Parkinson began to show interest, playfully not looking in my direction. "The second, not the first. With boredom we ourselves are perfectly familiar and are in close relations."
"Oh, everything is extremely simple," I leaned forward at the table, but observing manners, did not put elbows on it. And generally, how can one sit at a dining table putting elbows on it? "I will need to pass all studied material on Potions to Snape at the end of this semester."
"Pfft," Parkinson didn't restrain her opinion, turning her head to me and smiling maliciously. "So that's where your demise was hidden, Mudblood?"
"Don't think I'll fail," I smiled in return, causing dissatisfaction of the girl. "But won't get the highest grade either, and won't gain necessary experience. The longer my illiteracy in this matter drags on, the worse it will be."
"Suppose," nodded Daphne. "I understand what you are driving at. But isn't everything too smooth in your logic?"
"Look yourself. Snape clearly dislikes Harry Potter and his friends, among whom is my sister. Being unfamiliar with me, he immediately seated me with you for as many as three years, generating a whole bunch of possible reasons for conflict. If I approach him and say, like: 'Let's study additionally?', how far and how fast will I be sent by the professor?"
"Instantly," Parkinson smirked again. "And maximally far."
"There," I nodded in her direction, looking at Daphne. "You have an undeniable advantage at least in belonging to his House. One can, of course, practice without professor's supervision, but bringing his dissatisfaction upon oneself, it seems to me, is a very unwise move."
"You are right there."
"Classes can be conducted during evening detentions with the professor. In the end, I will successfully practice and pass the material to him, and you, Greengrass, will receive a competent colleague for the coming years, which will significantly increase the quality of potions."
"Only you don't consider one important factor. Ingredients are needed for practice," Daphne leaned slightly forward. "The professor will never give us his. Moreover, without ingredients he will send us away even on the approach to the office."
"Your suggestions?"
"You are the initiator of this idea, you pay. I will agree about classes."
"Excellent. Two sets of ingredients for first and second year?"
"Yes."
"Well, pleasure doing business with you, ladies," nodding, I got up from the table.
"Pfft..." Parkinson snorted again, "...Mudblood..."
"That doesn't work with me, Parkinson," I smiled to the girl. "Better continue working on Malfoy while he falls for it."
Pansy, for that is her name if memory does not fail me, looked at me somewhat surprised, while I went to the table of my House, even if there were almost no people there; soon it will be dinner time anyway.
Seeing Cedric at our table, thoughtfully and completely alone chasing a lonely little mushroom with a fork around the plate, which in no way wished to fall victim to this very fork, I sat next to him.
"Hi."
"Huh? Oh, hi, Hector," the prefect instantly discarded dismal thoughtfulness and smiled in his slightly feigned manner. "Did something happen?"
"Yes and no. Tell me, what does a wizard need at Hogwarts?"
"Hmm? Interesting question," Cedric put the fork aside, sitting half-turned to me. "More specifically?"
"Well, what goods would be in demand here? Here a student lives, lives, and a thought appears in the head now and then: 'Wish it were here...'."
The prefect understood the meaning of understatement, pondering again, but this time not removing the smile from his face.
"Off the top of my head comes only something warming."
"Shot of whiskey?"
"Pfft..." if Cedric were drinking something at the moment, it would have resulted in one of the cheapest comedy scenes. "No-no, not about that. Exactly warming, like a sweater, warm clothes, but not clothes."
"Amulet?"
"Yes, something like that. They, of course, exist, but are too expensive, and for the most important thing, potions lesson in winter, inapplicable."
"And what about potions?"
"Well in dungeons even now it is quite cold. It is needed, optimal conditions and the like. In winter it seems not particularly colder, but chills to the bone. Standing in place for an hour and a half and almost not moving; horror."
"And just warm clothes?"