The Hogwarts Express sped briskly along the rails, tapping out a rhythm with its wheels ever so quietly. Landscapes flashed past the windows, plains and hills. The August sun tinted everything in elusive yellowish tones, as though an unseen artist had splashed a little sepia into the palette.
The prefects' compartment didn't seem lively, wasn't brimming with joy and merriment. For some, at least. The Ravenclaws, in the persons of Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein, had sat down at the little table together with Hermione and Hannah, drinking tea they'd brewed themselves from a white service with blue painting, while quietly but enthusiastically discussing something along the way. Parkinson, whose bob of black hair had lengthened still further over the summer, now "breaking" into strands against her shoulders, sat in an armchair and, one leg crossed over the other, read a book. Draco sat beside me on the sofa, thickening the atmosphere with his intensity and gloom.
"A bit more gloom and mystery," I leaned back against the sofa, "and you'll either become a Dementor or a mysterious ghost."
"Still cracking jokes."
"What else is there to do? You won't share the cause of your tension, you've shut yourself away here. You're not a little boy anymore, you don't need coddling and demonstrative sympathy. I can talk about runes. Do you want to talk about runes?"
"I don't. I'll go round the carriages," Malfoy stood, and tugging at his jacket, headed for the exit, but turned back in the doorway. "Parkinson?"
"I'll stay here," the young woman responded. "In case any of our lot comes looking for a prefect."
Malfoy left, and I began to grow bored. I'd already scattered several little spiders about the train, and could keep an eye on the situation from right here, so there were no problems with that. One can't attend to one's personal affairs in front of everyone, so as to keep certain of one's abilities secret. Daphne, in purely female company composed of girls from various Slytherin years, was attending to some affairs of her own, womanly ones, having occupied one of the compartments.
What to do? I didn't much want to occupy myself with self-education either. Hm…
"Has anyone read what we've been made to buy for the new compulsory subject?"
"You mean Muggle Studies?" the first to answer, strangely enough, was Pansy of all people.
"Well, yes."
"Heh-heh," now she was smiling slyly too. "You won't like it. Solid anti-Muggle propaganda."
"Lovely," I shook my head. "Looks as though the Dark Lord has nothing better to do than churn out propaganda."
"That's nothing. They say there's a project actively being pushed now for compulsory registration of the magical population. There's never been anything like it."
"Oh?" Goldstein put in his voice. "I heard it'd only be compulsory for Muggle-borns."
Pansy turned towards the table by the window where the others were sitting.
"Oh, really? I hope you won't try to convince of that the daughter of a man who's already prepared the documents for every member of the family, in the event this project is adopted?" the smirk on her face turned rather venomous.
Goldstein merely shrugged.
"That's what my relatives told me. And they found out from acquaintances of theirs."
"Given that the Goldsteins supported Dumbledore, the acquaintances must be of those same circles?" Pansy clarified, but the question was clearly rhetorical.
"Obviously."
"Lovely," I repeated. "Mutual distortion of information. One side has decided to wage harsh propaganda, the other — to brazenly leave things unsaid, distorting facts at the requisite angle. Incidentally, Pansy…"
"Hm?" the young woman arched an eyebrow, without ceasing to smirk.
"How likely do you reckon it is that the children of radicals merely supporting the Dark Lord, or their hangers-on, will lose the run of themselves a touch at Hogwarts out of impunity? Well, and against the backdrop of the former Head of Slytherin, who forever covered for his own on any pretext, even the most trivial, now being Headmaster."
"What's brought on such worries all of a sudden? And what's in it for me?"
"I'm thinking about how to restore order in the school, if it comes to it. By the most optimal and least radical means. And what's in it… We'll settle up, I won't leave you in my debt."
"Hector!" now Hermione, sitting at the table, turned towards me. "You're not planning to beat the nonsense out of everyone by force, are you?"
"It's an option."
"You're a prefect, a role model."
"To paraphrase a certain person: 'With a kind word and a wand at the temple, you can achieve a great deal more than with just a kind word.'"
"Ha-ha-ha," Pansy laughed, closing her book. "You do know your way around negotiations."
"And then some," I smiled in reply.
"Let's put it this way," Pansy beat out a rhythm with her fingers on the spine of the book. "You're considered a strong wizard, and even somewhat feared. Not in the sense that you'd do harm to them directly, no. Those who needed to have already put various facts together, that business with Nott for one. Those who couldn't were helped by their comrades or parents. So I, for example, would yield, were you to hint at having compromising material or some opportunity. But there'll be the especially gifted before whom you'll need to display strength and danger."
"That is, frighten them to the point their knees tremble at the mere mention of my name in vain."
"Hector," sarcasm read distinctly in Hermione's intonations, "doesn't it seem to you that such a path leads somewhat… astray?"
"I'm not saying I'll act precisely so, am I? For a start, we'll arrive at Hogwarts and see what teachers they've shoved through to us, what programme and policy they'll be running, how the Headmaster behaves. And above all, what comes of it all. It's no secret to anyone that Dumbledore indulged Potter and Weasley's antics. And yours too, incidentally."
Hermione flushed a little, but made her face indignant.
"And to take action against Potter, weave intrigues or whatever else, was counterproductive — you'd be the one to cop it. Malfoy's my witness, true, his intrigues were…"
"Failures at the planning stage," Pansy smirked.
"Quite. And now the Headmaster is Snape. I allow that he'll indulge the Slytherins. Against the backdrop of the general situation, that's fraught with consequences."
"From our House," Parvati smiled, "you needn't expect trouble."
"No one's likely to come at us either," Hannah smiled likewise. "We've got Hector Granger, after all."
"Mustn't forget," I rose from the sofa and straightened my robes. "By blood status I'm a Muggle-born. That may get the better of reason in certain reasoning individuals. We'll solve problems as they arise. Think I'll take a stroll round the carriages too."
With these words I left the prefects' compartment and indeed went off round the carriages, though there was no need for it whatsoever — I knew already that everything was fine everywhere. Only the Slytherins were behaving somewhat more reserved, constrained, clearly brooding on something grim. Not all of them, of course, and not only them, but it was precisely the representatives of the green House who could boast a majority with such a mood.
And so passed practically the whole journey. Now and then I came across first-years, only just entering Hogwarts, who, seeing the colour of my robes' lining, hurried to enquire about something. No one asked Malfoy anything, for instance, though they too saw the prefect badge on the lapel of his jacket. What can you do — he goes about grim, all in black, and were his hair the same colour rather than platinum, he could be compared to Snape.
A couple of times my appearance broke up some mischief-makers or outright hooligans. Naturally, in every case hotheads from the House of lions were to be seen.
The Weasley turned up too. Naturally, he was in the company of Potter and other lads from his House, entirely ignoring his prefect duties. But then, that's Ron. Though, in all honesty, I'd thought Snape would use his headmasterly authority to strip him of his prefect post. But evidently the other candidacies were worse still, and the Weasley was a "known" evil, a predictable one.
Harry, with a serious face, was spinning some yarns about his summer escapades, surveillance and suspicions. And he suspected everyone around him of everything, at that. Ron egged him on, the other lads too — evidently they'd decided to make use of life experience, which reminded them how often they'd been wrong about Potter. Naturally, I was listening to and seeing this through the little spiders.
Going up to their compartment, I knocked and opened the door.
"Gentlemen," I nodded to them with a smile, and seeing Ginny, added, "And ladies."
"Granger…"
"Hello…"
But not all deigned to say anything at all.
"I see you've some sort of gathering here," and glancing at Ron, I added, "important enough for Mr Weasley to ignore his duties as House prefect, lounging about here."
"I'm not lounging about," Ron looked around at everyone, scratching his ginger mop. "I'm keeping order, so the arguers don't cross the line, there."
"That would explain why I've already broken up a couple of all-but-realised fights. Your colleagues were there."
"Well, you needn't have broken them up. One fight more, one fewer."
"So what are you talking about, then? Something important?"
"Just trifles, Hector, pay it no heed," Potter waved it off, but smiled so falsely while doing so, it was downright dreadful. And the others too.
"You lot can't lie at all. Well, Merlin be with you, I can guess for myself" — of course I can, but at the same time I know the topic of conversation already, only I'll pretend to be terribly clever — "You won't tell me and you lie to my face. The reason may be simple — it's either to do with Hermione, or with those I associate with. There are no problems with Hermione, nor compromising material on her, simply because she does nothing of the sort…"
"How would you know?" Ginny arranged something on her face meant to show that she, now, knew so much, knew ever so much.
"From there. So, it's to do with my acquaintances. It's hardly the lads from my House, since the only significant event among our peers is Justin's departure from Hogwarts…"
"Justin's left Hogwarts?" Dean Thomas and Ron asked simultaneously, sincerely at that.
"Well there you go, so it's not him. Likewise it's not insignificant rumours. That leaves my acquaintances from Slytherin, and judging by how you reacted to the name of the House" — and they did indeed react — "then that's how it is. One might suppose some gossip about my girlfriend, but then you'd have reported it to Hermione with the words 'Look what that Slytherin snake your brother's seeing has got up to!', but then I'd already know of those rumours from my sister. That leaves Malfoy and his circle. Given the situation in the country and the whole Dark-Lordian return, given how many times you've locked horns with him, I think he's still numbered among your enemies."
The lads exchanged glances in surprise.
"Eh… I understand my sister, why she loved to flaunt her brains. An indescribable sensation."
"Do you know something?" Potter asked seriously.
"I know a great many things," I shrugged, smirking. "But because of my associations, in your eyes I'm a possible adversary and a serpent's lackey, so I'll say nothing, even if you ask, since you won't believe me anyway. Right, folks. Weave your intrigues, only don't overdo it. There's no telling yet what dirty trick Snape's played on us at Hogwarts."
"Now there I agree one hundred percent," Weasley nodded.
"And if you want to keep an eye on someone, pay attention to Nott."
Leaving that compartment, having sown the seeds of doubt in everyone, I went off into the next carriage. Why do I do this? Well, Potter loves adventures. So let him draw attention onto himself.
Closer to the end of the journey I met Daphne after the conclusion of their girls' club gathering. We'd exchanged letters yesterday already, that there was no need to meet her on the platform precisely because of this club — they'd arranged much earlier to meet at one of their places and set off for the station together. So only now, almost before the stop at Hogsmeade, had she torn herself free from the captivity of female company.
"Hello," she smiled, embracing me and giving me a brief kiss while there was no one in the carriage corridor. "How was the journey?"
"Dreary to a horrifying degree," I smiled, and we stood by the window, while Daphne, taking my hand, pressed against my shoulder. "Broke up a couple of failed fights, a couple of arguments, helped the newcomers, steered Potter's activities into the channel I needed."
"Even so? And how exactly has our long-suffering hero displeased you?"
"He'd have unfolded some activity or other regardless. Better he unfolds it in a direction convenient to me."
"You're a wolf in sheep's clothing, Hector," she smiled, looking at my reflection in the window — it had already grown dark outside. "Before, you only acted according to the situation. What's changed?"
"I fear Hogwarts may turn out to be no longer the one we're used to. Knowing who will do what and how, I'll be able to understand, by the changes in plans, who is influencing whom and how, and what I'm to do about it. Most likely nothing will come of it, it'll all be chaotic and unpredictable, but it's worth a try, surely? Isn't it?"
"Naturally. One can't play chess without knowing how the pieces move."
"Don't overestimate me, I'm not a player. I don't see the whole board, I don't understand what's happening specifically, and I make moves with myself with no little difficulty — I haven't time for others. Incidentally, what do you reckon…"
I turned to the young woman, and she turned towards me in reply, standing practically a couple of centimetres from me, eyes glinting impudently.
"Ahem…"
"Yes-yes?"
"Do you want me to forget my question?"
"Well, firstly, you won't forget, and secondly — for a look like that from you, one could thaw a little…"
"What's so special about this look?" I drew Daphne in by the waist.
"No idea, but I like it…"
Naturally, none of this could end the right way, the logical way.
"Just look at the two of them!" Pansy, entering the carriage corridor, threw up her hands. "Debauchery and indecency on the Hogwarts Express!"
Can a smirk be sprightly? Up until that moment I didn't know the answer to this question, but as it turned out, it can.
"We've nearly arrived, go and get ready," Pansy walked past us.
Having stood like that for ten seconds or so, since the moment was spoiled, we dispersed to our compartments, and ten minutes or so later the train stopped at the Hogsmeade platform. I, as a prefect, stayed there until the last passenger, and walked round the carriages besides, making sure no one had stayed behind, no one had been locked in, paralysed, and so on. Anything can happen.
Leaving the train together with Hannah, I spotted the other prefects by the other carriages — they were just gathering to board the remaining two carriages, so we went over to them too.
"Looks as though," Hannah nodded towards the just-departed carriage with Hermione, Ron, Padma and Ernie, "we've been left no choice."
"I'd be surprised if Ron agreed to ride in one carriage with Malfoy."
"Even after our circle of anonymous DADA enthusiasts?"
"Even."
As we were climbing into the carriages to the Slytherins, Malfoy snorted, folding his arms across his chest.
"Well, what a surprise."
"Have you got your period, or something?" I couldn't resist a sarcastic and not exactly proper remark, at which Hannah and Pansy nearly choked, embarrassed.
To my surprise, Malfoy didn't even take offence, merely looked at me with a question in his gaze.
"I see," I nodded. "Went home for the summer, they call it. Broke the lad."
"It was a difficult summer."
"That would explain why you're constantly monitoring your surroundings. What, have they given you a persecution mania?"
"Is it that noticeable?"
"You're constantly listening to your instincts, keeping your wand at the ready in your sleeve, darting your gaze to the places where a threat might be lurking."
"And how did you notice that?" Pansy was surprised. "I don't see it…"
"It's simply that he does the same thing himself," Malfoy smirked. "I only realised it today."
"Welcome to the club," I patted Malfoy on the shoulder, who not without difficulty restrained himself from a sharp movement to the side. "Now that's nerves already. Maybe drink a course of calming draught?"
"Tch… It'll pass on its own, don't meddle."
"All right. Your business."
"Precisely."
I'm even curious what sort of "disciplinary measures" they arranged for Draco at home this time.
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