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“Ron’s dad works for the Ministry too!” Harry said furiously. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, he hasn’t got sneak written across his face—”

“That was a really horrible trick of Hermione Granger’s,” said Cho fiercely. “She should have told us she’d jinxed that list—”

“I think it was a brilliant idea,” said Harry coldly. Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter.

“Oh yes, I forgot—of course, if it was darling Hermione’s idea—”

“Don’t start crying again,” said Harry warningly.

“I wasn’t going to!” she shouted.

“Yeah… well… good,” he said. “I’ve got enough to cope with at the moment.”

“Go and cope with it then!” Cho said furiously, turning on her heel and stalking off.

Fuming, Harry descended the stairs to Snape’s dungeon and, though he knew from experience how much easier it would be for Snape to penetrate his mind if he arrived angry and resentful, he succeeded in nothing but thinking of a few more things he should have said to Cho about Marietta before reaching the dungeon door.

“You’re late, Potter,” said Snape coldly, as Harry closed the door behind him.

Snape was standing with his back to Harry, removing, as usual, certain of his thoughts and placing them carefully in Dumbledore’s Pensieve. He dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face Harry.

“So,” he said. “Have you been practising?”

“Yes,” Harry lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Snape’s desk.

“Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we?” said Snape smoothly. “Wand out, Potter.”

Harry moved into his usual position, facing Snape with the desk between them. His heart was pumping fast with anger at Cho and anxiety about how much Snape was about to extract from his mind.

“On the count of three then,” said Snape lazily. “One—two—”

Snape’s office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in.

“Professor Snape, sir—oh—sorry—”

Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise.

“It’s all right, Draco,” said Snape, lowering his wand. “Potter is here for a little remedial Potions.”

Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid.

“I didn’t know,” he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malfoy—or, even better, to hit him with a good curse.

“Well, Draco, what is it?” asked Snape.

“It’s Professor Umbridge, sir—she needs your help,” said Malfoy.

“They’ve found Montague, sir, he’s turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.”

“How did he get in there?” demanded Snape.

“I don’t know, sir, he’s a bit confused.”

“Very well, very well, Potter,” said Snape, “we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening.”

He turned and swept from his office. Malfoy mouthed, “Remedial Potions?” at Harry behind Snape’s back before following him.

Seething, Harry replaced his wand inside his robes and made to leave the room. At least he had twenty-four more hours in which to practise; he knew he ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expense of Malfoy telling the whole school that he needed remedial Potions.

He was at the office door when he saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe. He stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something… then he remembered: it was a little like the lights he had seen in his dream last night, the lights in the second room he had walked through on his journey through the Department of Mysteries.

He turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Snape’s desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Snape’s thoughts… things he did not want Harry to see if he broke through Snape’s defences accidentally…

Harry gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welling inside him… what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from Harry?

The silvery lights shivered on the wall… Harry took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could it possibly be information about the Department of Mysteries that Snape was determined to keep from him?

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart now pumping harder and faster than ever. How long would it take Snape to release Montague from the toilet? Would he come straight back to his office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter… Montague was Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would want to make sure he was all right.

Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand.

The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling… in fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down into the Great Hall.

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  Мир накрылся ядерным взрывом, и я вместе с ним. По идее я должен был погибнуть, но вдруг очнулся… Где? Темно перед глазами! Не видно ничего. Оп – видно! Я в собственном теле. Мне снова четырнадцать, на дворе начало девяностых. В холодильнике – маргарин «рама» и суп из сизых макарон, в телевизоре – «Санта-Барбара», сестра собирается ступить на скользкую дорожку, мать выгнали с работы за свой счет, а отец, который теперь младше меня-настоящего на восемь лет, завел другую семью. Казалось бы, тебе известны ключевые повороты истории – действуй! Развивайся! Ага, как бы не так! Попробуй что-то сделать, когда даже паспорта нет и никто не воспринимает тебя всерьез! А еще выяснилось, что в меняющейся реальности образуются пустоты, которые заполняются совсем не так, как мне хочется.

Денис Ратманов

Фантастика / Фантастика для детей / Самиздат, сетевая литература / Альтернативная история / Попаданцы