Hogwarts: Through the Veil of Time

Our appearance did not go unnoticed. The dean turned around, and her expression was friendly but stern.

"Ah, Mr. Granger, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, you are the one I was looking for.

"And we you, professor," I immediately took matters into my own hands.

"Tell me on the way, let's go."

The dean walked briskly towards us, or rather towards the exit, and we followed her. As soon as we left the living room, I continued the conversation.

" Four Slytherin students are lying at the entrance to the owlery tower. We didn't know what to do and quickly headed to the common room " suddenly the prefects, you, or someone who knows how to find... another "someone" are here. More competent.

By deliberately speaking more simply than usual, I showed slight confusion regarding the situation.

"Where are we going?" Justin asked. "Don't we need to help the guys?"

"The director asked me to bring you, gentlemen," the dean answered kindly, continuing to walk ahead of us. "But now at least I have some idea of ​​the reasons for this. And why didn't you do anything yourself? Did you leave them lying there?"

"We didn't know what to do," I shrugged, though only Justin saw it. "I think in a case like this you shouldn't touch someone with your hands or magic without a diagnosis. You could end up lying next to them or make things even worse for the victim."

"That's a fair guess," the dean nodded. "It's a shame that people don't often act on such thoughts. But can I be sure of you? Whatever happened to those guys, you didn't do it?"

"Of course, Professor Sprout," I nodded to the woman who turned around for a moment.

Justin did the same, but silently. We silently made the rest of the way up to the entrance to the headmaster's office. A very interesting entrance, I must say, because a high niche with a huge magical statue of a gargoyle that moves aside and opens a passage to a spiral staircase when the correct password is pronounced is quite unusual for these places. Yes, there are many passages in Hogwarts that I have heard about or have already walked with the others, but the gargoyle remains at the top of its scale and complexity "it is not a bow to a portrait, not scratching a painted pear, not knocking on a barrel and other dances with a tambourine.

In the light semi-darkness, filled with a mystical blue light, the director's office looked extremely interesting "that's exactly what a person unfamiliar with the quirks of old wizards would say. Time after time, from fragment to fragment "everywhere you could see this manner of making everything beautiful, atmospheric, mysterious, and absolutely useless at first and second glance, magical junk. Usually, it's good if every fifth thing can bring real benefit. But, be that as it may, everything was really atmospheric "both the antique furniture and the incomprehensible spinning or hovering things. And the huge antique globe between the two chairs that stood by the stairs up "beyond all praise! I want the same for myself. Simply, because, that's all! After all, I myself am something of an old man.

The Headmaster, grey-haired and bearded as before, sat at his desk, tapping his fingers on it. Opposite him stood Professor Snape, and a little further, near the chairs, but not daring to sit down, stood the recently met Slytherins. They had an unpresentable appearance, and in this appearance anyone would recognize the long-suffering victims of hooligan lawlessness.

"Oh, Pomona, come in..." the director, with a neutral expression on his face, waved his hand in an inviting gesture.

"Director," Justin and I nodded and walked forward with our dean, standing next to her.

"Now that everyone is here," the headmaster folded his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. "We can sort out what happened. Severus, if you would be so kind as to…"

"My students, Headmaster, claim that they were attacked near the entrance to the owlery tower," Professor Snape said in a smooth, ingratiating tone. "They were attacked and cruelly bewitched with dangerous spells, rendering them unconscious, and beaten up as a farewell."

"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore glanced over his glasses at the blond man standing quietly next to his comrades.

"Yes, director."

"And who could have done such a thing?"

"Granger is with Finch-Fletchley," Malfoy glanced at us sideways, and his voice was filled with resentment and indignation.

"Mr. Granger, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," the director turned to us. "Is it true?"

"Allow me," I took a step forward, and as soon as the headmaster nodded, I continued, "Mr. Finch-Fletchley showed me the way to the owlery so that I could send a letter to my relatives. We successfully completed this task. As soon as we left the tower and found ourselves in the corridor, we saw the unconscious, battered students from Slytherin lying."

As soon as I took a pause to catch my breath, a disgruntled Malfoy immediately expressed his opinion:

"A blatant lie."

"Not at all," I shook my head. "We saw the boys. It's not clear what exactly happened, whether they were magically or physically injured, but judging by the wands in their hands, some kind of incident took place. I don't know how to provide first aid for something like this, nor do I know any diagnostic spells to find out what exactly was damaged. And you, Justin?"

"No. I don't know either.

" Without saying a word, we hurried to the nearest place where, at least theoretically, we could meet a competent wizard or someone who knew how to find one. To the faculty common room. There we met the dean, Madam Sprout, and here we are.

The Slytherins' faces did not hide their indignation.

"Well," the headmaster leaned back in his bulky chair, which was more like an armchair, "it seems the Hufflepuff students are telling the truth…"

"Yes, check their wands…" Malfoy said with suppressed indignation, and clearly wanted to continue, but Professor Snape cut him off with just one gesture.

"Exercise restraint, Malfoy," Snape said dryly. "However..."

The professor looked at us, at our dean, and then at the director.

"Mr. Malfoy's proposal is not without rationality," Snape turned towards us and wanted to menacingly overcome the separating distance, but it didn't work.

"Let me decide," Madam Sprout said, her voice deceptively gentle, "whether my students' wands will be tested or not.

"What, is it possible like that? "I didn't have to feign surprise. I didn't have to feign surprise, but I did exaggerate, and very much so. I seemed to have taken the possibility of such a thing into account subconsciously, but the confirmation I had just received plays an important role in the life of a wizard.

"Hmm..." Malfoy snorted derisively, and the rest of the Slytherins clearly cheered up, looking at us condescendingly. There was pure triumph in those looks.

Nobody answered me, so I spoke again:

"If this helps clear up the misunderstanding…" I pulled the wand out of the makeshift holster on my forearm and held it out handle first. "To check."

"Indeed," Justin immediately began to fidget, taking out his own and holding it out in my manner.

"It seems, Pomona," the director smiled slightly into his beard, "the children themselves don't mind."

"In that case, I don't mind either," our dean nodded, taking a step to the side and letting Professor Snape through to us.

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