Hogwarts: Through the Veil of Time

Putting on my best mask of elven superiority, drawing myself up straight and putting my hands behind my back, I headed towards the disputants, who were a couple of meters away. Suddenly, Zachariah's hand fell on my shoulder.

- Do you want to get involved in this?

- Should I ignore the attack on my sister?

It seemed he had simply forgotten that Hermione was my sister. But he quickly realized it and removed his hand. As for me, from the already known facts, knowledge of the stereotyped thinking of various sentient beings, and other information, a thread of dialogue and its possible variants had already begun to form. It seemed that at this rate, that part of the elf that had been helping him push through his decisions in the council and conduct other social activities in an extremely aggressive environment, better known as "high society," would emerge.

"I am quite surprised," I said in that cold and slightly majestic voice that the Elders "spoke" in, wanting to shame the young, three-hundred-year-old upstart in my person.

My appearance immediately attracted attention. It seemed that the guys were not used to having someone from outside their faculties joining their squabbles.

- Even, to some extent, discouraged. The heir and only son of the Malfoy family with such genuine diligence seeks the attention of a half-blood and a Muggle-born from another faculty, - I almost imperceptibly shook my head in disapproval.

Such a gesture is almost invisible visually, but is perceived subconsciously.

- What? - the blond looked at me with incomprehension.

- Hector! - Of course, Hermione recognized me, but she stared at me with no less incomprehension.

"Ah-ah-ah," Malfoy said with feigned understanding, shaking his head. "A mudblood's brother, though… It makes sense."

I almost laughed, watching as he turned for a moment to his own for support. Two big guys cackled obsequiously, and the rest of the Slytherins supported the blond with light chuckles, but watched attentively and with interest. The most active supporter of the blond was some girl with a bob of almost black hair. The first one was identified.

"I heard from my father," Malfoy turned his sarcasm on me. "That you were a vegetable from birth and only started talking for the first time a couple of months ago. No wonder you ended up in the Faculty of Dummies. Shouldn't you go back to your filthy pigsty?"

To my surprise, my non-confrontational colleagues in the faculty wanted to step forward and say something, but I hoped that I could stop this impulse with a gesture of one hand, and, strangely enough, I succeeded.

"I was indeed ill, but look at yourself, heir," I said, coming closer, looking at Malfoy with arrogant sadness and universal disappointment. "I stand here, healthy and sane, neat and polite, and you? What kind of longshoreman's jargon is this? What's with the carelessly thrown on robe, the loose tie, the unbuttoned collar of a wrinkled shirt?"

"My robe is worth more than everything you own," Malfoy snapped, turning red.

Catching myself thinking that I was enjoying this about as much as this blond was enjoying provoking the Gryffindors, I continued:

- Indeed. I heard that a certain heir of Malfoy is the unofficial leader of the great Salazar Slytherin's faculty, where the cream of the nation studies, one might say. The best of the best.

This change of topic threw the guy off balance, but the words fell on the fertile ground of groundless pride, causing him to almost turn up his nose.

- However, if the face of the faculty is recognized as a foul-mouthed and ill-mannered slob, then who are the rest, and are purebloods really that good in principle?

And again his mood changed, and I couldn't help but take advantage of the resulting pause.

"You can gift wrap dragon dung, but it won't change what it contains, Heir Malfoy."

"You…" the blond pulled out his wand and pointed it at me.

I didn't do anything, and didn't even bat an eyelid, as they say. True, I had a construct for a protective barrier ready in my mind. Just in case. Another reason for my inaction was that one of the professors I had seen at the feast crept up on our large company like a quiet shadow - all in black, a black robe, with black greasy hair, obviously treated with something. He hung over Malfoy like a hawk.

"What's going on here?" he asked in a quiet, ingratiating voice, and Malfoy immediately hurried to put his wand away.

"It's nothing, professor," I smiled sparingly. "We're just chatting."

The professor looked at me with a sharp gaze of dark eyes.

- Mr. Granger. No sooner have we entered than we are already seen in the process of creating trouble.

He turned sharply, throwing up the hem of his robe, and with a gesture of his hand the large wooden door to the office swung open.

"Come in," he said dryly and stood at the entrance, glaring at everyone who entered.

As soon as we entered, Justin lightly poked me in the side.

- Well, of course you did.

"It will happen by itself," I shrugged and began to look for a place for my beloved self.

The office was dark and cold. On the walls hung tables of compatibility of various ingredients and other similar materials. Along the walls stood several cabinets with extremely unpleasant-looking glass flasks of various sizes, inside of which floated various parts of various animals in a special solution. Most likely, there was a magical analogue of formalin.

Keen eyesight and excellent memory allowed me to notice my cauldron on one of the student tables. Yes, they all looked the same, but somehow it turned out that every chip and polish line on my cauldron was remembered, and they were all different - their production, although mass-produced, was similar to manual, as I saw. Without thinking twice, I sat down at this table and began to take out everything I needed for the Potions lesson from my backpack.

"Hector," Hermione sat down next to me very quickly, looking me in the eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

- That's the most awesome question a brother can ask his sister. Of course I know. And I even remember, although not everything.

The girl was embarrassed, but quickly decided to go on the attack while the others were sitting down.

— I would like to…

"Miss Granger," the professor's voice came from next to us. "Who gave you permission to change seats in my class? Take your seat."

Hermione wanted to be indignant, but apparently her experience with this professor told her that it was better not to even try. She dejectedly moved. I turned my gaze to the professor and could not help but notice the brunette standing next to him in a robe of Slytherin colors. She looked from the place next to me to the professor in bewilderment.

"Do you require a special invitation, Miss Greengrass?" the professor inquired.

- But…

— Didn't you claim, as recently as last school year, that if you had a partner in Potions, you would never have gotten anything lower than an 'Outstanding'?

- I.

- So don't waste my time and take your place next to your long-awaited partner for the next three years.

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