A few days until July fifth flew by unnoticed.
Mostly I was busy perfecting the calculations of protective artifacts for my parents, and, naturally, I succeeded, leaving the house on the evening of the third and managing their creation in an hour. For the house—three small star-shaped objects similar to shurikens, sharp, almost indestructible. For parents—simple fabric bracelets with a small metal decoration in the form of an arrowhead. If necessary, these arrowheads, like the triangles in my bracelet, can detach and move freely in space. They possess a sharp tip and edges, high hardness and can transmit a general picture and sound to me if necessary. In general, everything is thought out to the smallest detail.
On the morning of the fourth, on my birthday, I installed artifacts for the house, gave parents gifts, explaining that this is not just like that, but for protection, and only after that we went to London. Walking, shopping and visiting other interesting places in Soho, sat in a restaurant not for food, but for delicacies and something interesting, and in the evening, at home, arranged a small festive feast. As gifts, I asked to simply buy clothes—parents insisted that they would pay themselves, like: "Earned? Well done. Will be your pocket money. When you become an adult—you will be independent, but for now moderate your ardor and accept gifts". Managed at least to keep from buying something absurd, but gifted after all... A wristwatch. Without excesses, terribly high-quality, moderately modest, strict, but elegant. Steel, a little silver, dark blue dial in a minimalist style. Think I will work with them in terms of forging and enchantment.
On the morning of the fifth, parents with Hermione went to the airport, simultaneously dropping me off with my things and the phoenix in the scarf-nest to the Leaky Cauldron. Well, how "dropped off"—taxi. The car is in the garage, the garage in the house, the house—under protection. It was not necessary to drive me at all, but not to refuse parents such a small thing? Moreover, mom was able to fully enjoy the procedure of brainwashing me in a mild form on the topic "Did you take everything with you, son?". With care, unobtrusively.
Getting out at the Leaky Cauldron, although it would be more correct to say at the cassette and record store, because the driver did not see the establishment hidden from the views of ordinary people, I looked at the watch—half an hour until the meeting with the Headmaster.
Entering inside and inhaling the aroma of cooking dishes, of which by lunchtime there will be, it seems, quite a lot, as well as visitors, I took the same table by the window, placing the nest closer to the wall with the window. This time the bartender was busy—several men in business robes stood at the counter, ordering drinks and snacks, communicating, including with the bartender himself. Therefore, a witch of average appearance and incomprehensible age approached me.
"Good afternoon, sir," she drawled indifferently. "Will you order something?"
"Something with meat, tasty and hearty..."
"In..." the witch thought for a moment, "...two minutes the roast will be ready."
Ordering a larger portion for myself, herbal decoction and bread, I took out the sketchbook, between the sheets of which lay the contract template. Having read everything and made sure that the number of edits would be minimal, started working on projects for Cedric—a considerable volume of "forging" is ahead there, but the orders themselves are simple. All sorts of trifles, the most complex of which—amulets with Muggle-repelling effect. It seems far from every wizard has mastered these not the most complex, but by no means simple charms properly. Well or want to avoid incidents when in the heat of the moment they simply forget about them, because many, whatever they say, very often for one reason or another are among ordinary people.
Carried away, I didn't notice myself how I ate and drank, and almost missed the appearance of the Headmaster, who appeared this time by fireplace. He approached my table and sat down.
"Mr. Granger," he smiled slightly into his beard, flashing half-moon glasses.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster," I nodded, taking out the contract and putting the sketchbook in the backpack. "Here, template."
Dumbledore fished out a similar sheet from somewhere and handed it to me. What can I say? It seems we think in approximately the same direction, and the agreements turned out almost identical—many different, but simple points about mutual silence and guarantees that neither I nor anyone from the Order of the Phoenix—that's what the organization was called—will attempt to somehow extract information from each other.
"Well..." I looked at the Headmaster. "It seems we drew up almost identical contracts."
"Will you rewrite?"
"Think so. Neither you nor I, as I understand, are eager to sign papers not created personally."
"Hmm... It seems," the Headmaster chuckled, "Alastor had too strong an influence on his charges in just one year. Constant vigilance, isn't it?"
"Exactly."
"Praiseworthy. Well, I will wait while you, Mr. Granger, draw up a new contract."
It took quite a bit of time, and soon we had already signed two copies for each of us.
"That's it, Mr. Granger. Now we should leave this hospitable establishment. Unfortunately, cannot get to where we need by fireplace."
"Blocked?"
"For greater security."
Having paid, we left the Leaky Cauldron and calmly like that, ignoring people around and their glances, went along the ordinary street wherever our eyes looked.
"Hmm... Headmaster, does nothing bother you?"
"For example?" Dumbledore looked with keen interest at the shop windows we passed.
"Well, you look somewhat... extraordinary."
"Ah, trifle," the Headmaster waved it off. "Let the young break their heads about this, and an old resourceful grandfather in my person has a whole set of impenetrable excuses and explanations if someone suddenly stops me."
"For example?"
"For example... I am Gandalf. Getting into the role," the Headmaster shrugged. "Or someone else. Now, if I understood current trends correctly, it is fashionable to make films based on fairy tales, books."
"And indeed."
We turned into an inconspicuous alley where there were almost no people.
"But why then, if I understood correctly from conversations, are many wizards obliged to take some courses to walk freely among ordinary people."
"Courses mainly for DMLE employees and Aurors. But they can be understood," Dumbledore paid special attention to the sweet shop, its windows and the assortment visible through them, but did not linger. "They are forced to conduct operational work and often need to be invisible to wizards, but not hiding from ordinary people, merging with them. And so... Always can say some stupidity..."
"And there are also groups of people who engage in role-playing based on some works, tales, arrange knightly battles, dress up as wizards, throwing colored socks at each other shouting: 'Fireball!'... and all such things."
"See," the Headmaster smiled when we passed a young couple looking at us with great interest, and their assumptions about who this cheerful grandfather is playing reached my hearing? "You have already come up with several excuses for yourself if you appear among ordinary people in some extraordinary form."
"And what about, well... Moral character, all such things? Some will twirl a finger at the temple without a twinge of conscience."
"Well let them twirl to their health..."
We turned into an alley again, quiet and deserted. The Headmaster stopped, moved his hand a little and I felt how we were covered from the glances of ordinary people, if they appeared here.
"...I at my hundred and a little will somehow survive condemnation from people. Have you had to Apparate, Mr. Granger?"
"Yes, sir," I nodded, and looked at the small phoenix sleeping in the scarf-nest on the crook of my elbow. "And how is he?"
"Magical creatures, especially birds," the Headmaster began to answer, "not only tolerate Apparition without problems, but also perfectly cling to the wizard on bare instincts. For some capable of such a magical technique independently, this is as natural as a heartbeat."
"Understood. That is, nothing extra needs to be done? Is it enough that he... is here?"
"Yes. And now I will ask you to take my hand and hold on tighter. After all, a wizard—is not a bird. Can easily get 'lost'."
I took the Headmaster's hand and he, without warning, Apparated. A moment, and we are standing in an empty and abandoned-looking park zone in the middle of a block of brick houses of a rather old model. This was clearly not the richest area. Old cars parked at some entrances, house walls blackened with time, white window frames that lost their former gloss. It is visible that they are looked after to the best of abilities, but by the residents themselves, and not by some utilities.
We stood across the road from the wall of houses and... it seems to me, but one house is missing here.
"I see, Mr. Granger, you already noticed one oddity?"
"Yes, sir. Where did they put the house?" I smiled, looking at him, and the black phoenix stirred in his sleep. What a bird, only eats and sleeps. Well, more precisely, I eat and sleep on his behalf, but nevertheless.
"This is the result of one of the most, perhaps, complex charms known to me. Fidelius. Here, take..."
The Headmaster handed me a small piece of paper folded in half.
"Read."
Unfolding it, I followed the Headmaster's words. "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at number twelve, Grimmauld Place." As soon as I read and understood what was written, I saw the missing house standing close to the others, being part of a kind of residential area, a wall. The bricks of this house blackened much more strongly, and many glasses seemed dirty, completely opaque. Maybe it was so. The threshold and door of this house also looked a little differently—more massive, more serious in appearance. And gloomier.
"So, follow me..."
The note in my hands decayed, and I entered the house together with the Headmaster.
Dark gloomy hallway—that's what catches the eye. Long corridor with clearly magical lamps. In some, rare places, gloomy almost black wallpaper with monograms moved away from the walls—would not hurt to drive these air bubbles from under them, renew. To the side of the entrance stood a massive umbrella stand in the form of a large paw of some equally large animal.
A crash was heard from somewhere above.
"...Mordred and Morgana!" I heard Mrs. Weasley's muffled exclamation. "If this is Fred and George again, I'll give it to them!"
The Headmaster and I walked along the corridor and found ourselves in a small room, a kind of central hub, from where one could get to all other parts of the house: upstairs via stairs; to the right—a corridor with several doors on the left hand and with a large double door at the end; straight, bypassing the stairs—seems the kitchen is there. It was from there, from the kitchen, that Mrs. Weasley in a yellow floral dress and apron was hurrying. She walked very purposefully, and the twins, it seems to me, time to look for cover, because I did not doubt for a moment that the source of the sound, and therefore problems, are exactly them.
"Headmaster," Mrs. Weasley nodded and was about to pass us, heading to the stairs, but then noticed me. "Ah, Hector, dear..."
She immediately softened.
"Wow, how children grow, by leaps and bounds," she was touched.
Yeah, if closer to the end of the school year I thought that I had finally grown, now I know for sure—grew. Slightly above a meter eighty, which is extremely good, as it seems to me. So I look down on Mrs. Weasley.
"Mrs. Weasley," I smiled. "Glad to see you."
"Me too, me too," she nodded. "And where are your things?"
"Everything in the backpack," I nodded behind my back, pulling the strap on my left shoulder with my hand. "Undetectable Extension."
"Ah, probably cost dearly."
"Everything myself, everything with my own hands. As if I would pay for what I can do myself."
"Praiseworthy," Mrs. Weasley nodded with a smile. "I didn't doubt your desire for knowledge. And now, gentlemen..."
Mrs. Weasley looked up through the flight of stairs.
"...I must go upstairs and ensure punishment for someone, since they crave it so much."
She went upstairs. Climbing one flight of stairs, Mrs. Weasley shouted quite loudly again.
"Come out nicely, scoundrels..."
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