"Is there a bag with traceless extension?"
"Hmm? Wait," Cedric looked surprised. "You already made them? For everyone?"
"Nah, hundred and a half."
"And just like that give them to me, not even receiving an agreement?"
"Well you cheat me, so what? We still have two years to study together until your graduation."
"Ho-o, you know your stuff," Cedric smiled much more honestly than usual. "Let's go."
We went to the boys' wing, and my gaze, as always, slid with light dissatisfaction over these accursed round doors. Well nothing, will pass soon. Reaching Cedric's and his classmates' room, we went inside. What can I say; exemplary order, but there are things standing out from the usual picture. A very fluffy carpet almost the entire area of the room, and a special mat at the entrance which literally removes dirt and dust from you with magic when you step over it. There is one big cabinet with books here, and under the windows a whole bunch of shelves is nailed, on which stand pots with most diverse vegetation, sometimes completely pretentious, as if from another planet.
"Here, give here..."
While I examined the room, Cedric dug up a bag with undetectable extension in his things and approaching me, held it out with open neck. I nodded and took off my backpack, immediately unfastening it. With a pass of the magic wand I forced pendant-talismans to fly out one by one from my backpack and hide in Cedric's bag.
"Practicing non-verbal household charms? Wise."
"I thought you would say something like: 'Oh, mighty Merlin!'."
"Ha-ha-ha, no, won't say," Cedric was truly glad, while pendants flew and flew. "I have a second cousin once removed, so he refused school altogether, pureblood, can afford such a thing without consequences. But didn't study either. At about twenty realized that there is no more money, and can't provide for himself really. In two years learned everything he could reach."
"Being a wizard and not learning magic?"
"Being an ordinary person and not studying for engineer or astrophysicist, or whatever it is now... Programmer?"
"Where is such information from?"
Pendants in my backpack ran out.
"One hundred twenty-six and one in your hands," I named the number of samples made by me.
"Got it," Cedric tightened the bag neck and put it by his bed. "So all sorts of computers have been in use for fifty years already."
We headed back to the common room.
"It was funny to go to a museum and look at the first sufficiently miniature samples that can be placed inside a building, and not instead of it. And now, I heard, they make quite small things already, can put on a table."
"Well, in a sense."
"And the profession is becoming more and more popular... Programmer, it seems, still not sure, not an expert in ordinary technologies."
We entered the common room.
"Believe me, Cedric, you already know more about Muggle technology than some Muggles."
"And there is nothing surprising here. We live next to a small town, literally a couple of kilometers. Constantly ran there, magazines, books, library, TV... Black and white though. Why, by the way, need to pay for color television?"
"You ask me? Have no idea. But without a license cannot watch color broadcasting. Fines and so on..."
"Ah, clear. Tear money from everything that can be torn from. Okay," we almost reached his comrades. "Regarding your question I will talk and let know about results."
"Thank you."
"For now not for what."
Cedric returned to the sofa to his own, and I glanced at our corner, where we gather already with our year. It was not empty.
"Hi, folks," I waved a hand to Justin and Ernie, "How are things? Doing homework?"
"Yes, come join us."
Homework is indeed worth doing. After all tomorrow... Tomorrow is a difficult day. In essence, I solved all main issues in this week, and remains only to receive the first money, order ingredients and start attending additional classes on potion-making. If Daphne, of course, manages to persuade Snape to such a thing. Cedric is still working on flight training schedule. Says it would be good to know how school administration distributes time for training of Houses directly in Quidditch on the pitch, and proceed from this, but for now we will fly like this, in the morning.
On Charms and Spells the guys and I seem to be practicing two times a week, which is quite enough for me. It seems I really sorted out my schedule.
"Hector, don't sleep," Justin lightly pushed me in the shoulder. "Potions notes won't write themselves."
Indeed.
-----------------
The morning of the second Thursday in September turned out gloomy, overcast, heavy. The weather pressed, hinting that soon rain would pour onto the earth, and it is far from a fact that it will pour for only one day.
My day, as always, began with physical exercises, a shower, and a trip in a friendly but sleepy company to breakfast in the Great Hall. Due to the oppressive weather, the mood was not the best, but we worked with forks and spoons with enthusiasm. Several owls brought letters and magazines, which pleased the recipients.
Potions were on our schedule, just like last Thursday, but I don't think this surprised anyone. I, and even my shards, are used to a schedule changing slightly during the week, but it is what it is.
In a ragged crowd of students from different Houses, we reached the dungeons to the doors of the Potions classroom. Several students from Slytherin were already standing there, but I could not help but note an amusing fact for myself; Malfoy stood with a bandaged arm, suffering selflessly and demonstratively.
"Who knows what happened to him?" I nodded in his direction when my classmates and I settled by one of the walls.
"Oh, you don't know," Susan perked up. "They say he clashed in the dungeons with a whole year of Gryffindors, bravely fought back, shielding Princess Parkinson with himself, laid everyone out, one remained, but didn't come out unscathed. Treacherously lured Malfoy into a trap, threw in an unknown poisonous plant, and precisely it inflicted terrible wounds on his arm, which will take another two months to heal."
One cannot help but note that the eyes of all those who heard this speech popped out of orbits to one degree or another. Susan, having delivered all this with an exalted expression on her face, as if speaking about a miracle prince, smirked sharply.
"Clear that most likely he just stuck his hand into some bush to get these wounds, shirk work, and suffer. But rumors... Those are rumors," Susan shrugged.
"Phenomenal," Justin shook his head. "Self-mutilation for the sake of indulgences."
"And you know," I pondered. "I expressed then only an assumption that Malfoy does not wish to fly in the sky with Dementors. Seems that is how it is."
"Seems so... After all, they don't have a reserve Seeker," one could literally see on Zacharias's face how gears reluctantly began to turn in his head. "Which means the team cannot play for technical reasons. Which means..."
The pause in his monologue was too long, and we were already burning with impatience in anticipation of the continuation of his thoughts.
"...The schedule of inter-House Quidditch games is always identical. Unlikely they will rearrange teams, but swapping matches themselves... Gryffindor will be either against Ravenclaw or against ours. What do you think?"
"Will need to find out from Cedric. He surely knows," expressing his logical opinion, turned toward the professor approaching the auditorium. "Good morning, Professor Snape."
He only brushed me with a gaze, and his nod was so insignificant that you wouldn't even notice it. Wonder why others don't greet him? Well, no matter.