"In short, the television receives an encoded radio signal," I said, sitting down and taking a cookie from the plate. "That signal determines the parameters with which a beam of electrons is emitted from an electron gun. The beam is focused into a ray and moves very quickly across the surface of the phosphor coating of the picture tube, causing it to glow."
"Um… I do not understand anything, but it sounds very interesting," Ernie nodded gravely. "And what is an 'electron'?"
Hermione first looked at me in surprise, as did the others, and then at Ernie who had asked the question.
"Hm…" I chewed the cookie thoughtfully. "Without basic knowledge, there is no way. Maybe we should talk about something else, not technology?"
"Hector," Hermione looked at me again in surprise. "How do you know this? This is very specific knowledge."
"I think it was in some program," I shrugged.
I myself have no idea where I know this from, and the correctness of this knowledge is also questionable.
"And let us exchange gifts!" Susan clapped her hands, looking at each of us in turn.
"It is early…" Zacharias protested weakly, busy examining the many gray parts of the model.
"Oh, come on. So what? Should we send owls back and forth later?"
After a brief discussion, it was decided to exchange gifts. It seems such thoughts had occurred to the others even before arriving, so everyone had brought something. Only Hermione felt a little awkward, because her gifts were universal, sweets, since she did not really know anyone present. But, as it turned out, that was not a big problem, since she received similar gifts herself. What is the main thing here? Right, to start integrating into the group. Or at least show politeness to maintain acquaintance going forward.
After dealing with the gifts, even if somewhat neutral, we just sat and talked. Susan and Hannah easily found common ground with Hermione, dragging her into their girls' club. The boys and I indulged in various stupidities, at the same time explaining everyday life of ordinary people to Ernie with examples, explaining everything on our fingers. He was happy to immerse himself in such an environment.
Toward evening I asked for the phone and called Father, asking him to come pick us up in about an hour. A table was set for us in a separate dining room, we ate our fill, and afterward, when it got dark, we went out into the inner courtyard to launch fireworks. The pure-blood wizards in our group were somewhat stunned by the pyrotechnics, but I think most of their astonishment came from the acrid smell of gunpowder. Magical fireworks are pure magic. Not all of them, but, judging by conversations at Hogwarts, mostly.
Justin's parents, as it turned out, were busy with business and were not present at home. Only a couple of staff members were there, who never appeared before our eyes.
When it was time to part ways and we were all sitting on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the circular drive opposite the porch, several spatial anomalies appeared beside us. From them stepped an important-looking witch in a black cloak, and an equally important-looking wizard, but in a gray suit and coat.
"Auntie," Susan jumped up happily. "We had a great time! Let me introduce my friends."
Susan quickly introduced us. Her aunt, Amelia Bones, turned out to be the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Such an introduction made Hermione practically straighten up at attention. The man turned out to be Hannah's father. He did not hold such an important position, but in his Department of International Magical Cooperation he was far from insignificant.
At that moment, Father's SUV drove up the road to the manor, and the introductions entered a new phase. In the end, Ernie and Hannah were taken by the girl's father, disappearing in a swirl of spatial anomaly, while Zacharias and Susan "flew off" with Amelia Bones. As it turned out, they are all connected family-wise in one way or another. We headed home with Father.
On the morning of December twenty-fifth I went early by public transport to London, and from there to the Leaky Cauldron. The reason was simple: to use the public post and send the ingredient reference book to Daphne. It did not take much time, and by lunchtime I was already home, with my family, chatting about nothing and helping prepare the festive table.
Christmas was celebrated in a close family circle, without unnecessary people or trips to who knows where. In the morning I received a return gift from Greengrass: copies of books on runes that I had had my eye on during the very first lesson. I found it rather sweet that Daphne remembered that incident. That same morning I gave my parents the Sneakoscopes, spheres inside which an arrow appears pointing toward potential danger. They did have a downside. They could detect danger coming from a person or their actions, recognize malicious intent, but if, say, a meteor capable of wiping out a city were to fall, the Sneakoscope would remain silent. They loved these curious little devices, and the demonstration I gave using a fork and the intention to poke my father delighted them completely.
The remaining days until December thirty-first passed in the usual bustle, walks, conversations, shopping trips, where I updated my wardrobe, both magical and entirely ordinary. I had the money for it, and Gringotts allows you to exchange Galleons for pounds, albeit at the typical for any bank slightly reduced rate. Reduced not in my favor, of course.
On the morning of December thirty-first, Father drove Hermione and me to King's Cross, where, along with the other Hogwarts students, we boarded the Hogwarts Express from platform nine and three quarters.
Sitting in the compartment opposite Hermione, who was engrossed in her book, I thought about what these holidays had given me. I consider it quite important that during this time I more or less understood Hermione not only as a girl from the memories of vegetable-me, but as a person. Yes, only a little, and she has many flaws in my view, but that is who she is. Hermione is not obliged to conform to any vision of a proper person I might have. I am also sure that Hermione herself got to know me better. Yes, we almost did not acquire shared topics for conversation, aside from magic, we did not gain some cool common interests, but I think that for her I am no longer a suddenly talking mannequin. Almost certainly. Does that make me happy? I cannot say for sure, but what I do know is this: the more mutual understanding, the better, even if it is not an end in itself.
The first thing a Hogwarts student arriving at the school should admire is the typically English houses on the Hogsmeade platform. Instead, we were met with a persistent sensation as if Dementors were nearby. Of course, the houses themselves had not gone anywhere; the snowcaps on their roofs had not vanished, nor had the warm yellow lights in the windows. But all of that meant little when such an unpleasant aura was present.
From the platform we walked a short distance, boarded carriages fitted with runners instead of wheels, and set off. At Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall met us and immediately led us to the Great Hall. There, at the feast, in the familiar warm atmosphere, under the glow of countless floating candles and the lights of the Christmas tree not yet taken down, we drank hot chocolate and ate our fill.
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