As soon as Narcissa and Hector left the living room, Sylvia immediately asked a question addressed to Amber.
"What do you say?"
"In general, or on some specific point?" the red-haired lady with the blindfold turned her head to Segura.
"In general. Appearance and nuances of behavior I can evaluate myself."
"Strong. Collected. Controls himself and his magic. Experienced."
"How did he react to your check?"
"Reflexively closed himself off. Not a crumb of magic touched him, although you can't do that."
"Trifle," Sylvia waved it off, settling on the sofa even more frivolously, but at the same time I still wanted to call her precisely a lady, and not some other word. Perhaps such an ability to remain a lady in any situation is one of her personal achievements, while far from the most significant. In any situation at all. "I thought that Narcissa would bring someone more malleable to our influences."
"Just you didn't manage to tease him, as you like," Amber answered calmly, and turned her head to Rosier. "What do you say?"
"Mind is protected, but not by Occlumency. And this is not exactly protection... Current surface thoughts are read, but there is no possibility to force him to think or remember what I would like. Here he is like you, Sylvia," Callida looked at her neighbor on the sofa. "Same tight control."
"Well, okay. If Narcissa for some reason decided to help him—we will help. Within reason, of course. Personally, I will not answer stupid questions, and if he asks such a one—will not answer anything at all. Okay, decided with this. What about the reason for this evening itself? Normal international cooperation is no joke."
"Only if the local Dark One hasn't returned. This can change a lot..."
Returning to the hall accompanied by Lady Malfoy, I saw some changes in the balance of power. The company from which I was pulled out was still in full force and even expanded a little, but besides it, several more interest circles formed, and in some of them the only thing wizards did was look disapprovingly at everything. Most of the youth occupied a large area near sofas and tables, and, perhaps, it will be necessary to approach them somehow.
Lady Malfoy led me to our previous company.
"Gentlemen, I return Mr. Granger to you," she smiled.
"Oh, greatly grateful, beautiful hostess," one of the Frenchmen fluffed his tail again and again received a poke with an elbow in the side from his comrade. "I'm just stating a fact!"
This time it was not so easy to join the conversation, but I succeeded. It seems talks about business and so on came to an end, giving way to gossip, rumors and various stories, and here I am already out of the loop, but even so managed to maintain a conversation, now and then going into one topic, then into another. Of course, our company moved around the hall, now "absorbing" new participants, now "spitting out" exhausted ones, simultaneously dealing with drinks and food. I was already beginning to understand that it was time to bow out and go become an eyesore to someone else, when our company "absorbed" several wizards.
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass," MacPherson greeted them, "and this beautiful young lady, I assume, is Daphne?"
"Yes, Mr. MacPherson," William Greengrass nodded with a benevolent smile, shaking his hand.
The Scot was about to engage in an integral part of such meetings—start introducing everyone, but William Greengrass noticed me and could not restrain silent surprise.
"Ah, see you are already familiar with Mr. Granger?"
"Can say so," he answered with displeasure.
"There-there, don't treat this young talent so negatively."
"Just a Muggle-born," Greengrass threw back his head haughtily.
"We guessed, William," MacPherson nodded seriously, causing another surprise now for the entire Greengrass couple.
"Daphne," I smiled at the girl who looked especially chic today, and, to my surprise, I even forgot about the recent acquaintance with Sylvia. Funny.
"Hector," she smiled intentionally sincerely, causing slight irritation of parents and held out a hand, the air above which I immediately kissed—some "elfishness" in movements arose by itself.
"A-a-ah, well everything is clear," wizards around drawled with a smile in different ways.
"Here is the root of your displeasure, William," MacPherson chuckled. "But we see each other so rarely, and now is such a unique opportunity to discuss various issues—it is unacceptable to miss it, spraying on petty grievances. And the youth, so be it, let them devote time to each other."
In general, we were escorted far away. I quickly snatched two glasses with a local magical semblance of mulled wine from the buffet, light, summer, not warming, but cooling.
"It seemed to me," I handed one glass to Daphne, who accepted it with a satisfied smile on her face. "That local business tycoons discuss affairs strictly in male company."
"You mean mom?"
I only nodded in response, and we headed to the youth, among whom were guys both from different years, and from families with different views on both life and politics.
"She also deals with part of the business to relieve father," Daphne explained the reason why Sophia Greengrass remained in the company of these dealers. True, there was another lady there, a German, whose degree of severity went off scale.
"Hannah, Ernie," I greeted my comrades. "Oh... Neville? Extremely unexpected meeting."
I held out a hand to Longbottom, and he shook it without hesitation. He generally looked extremely presentable, and generally, it is worth noting that in recent months at Hogwarts he stretched out greatly, losing weight—apparently, his time has come. But despite the perfect strict black suit and robe, despite the confident look and straight posture, in his eyes was seen all the same embarrassment and uncertainty as always, and he was so "normal" now, it seems, purely due to upbringing and appropriate atmosphere.
"Hector," he nodded. "Surprised, but also glad to see you at this evening. I'm here with Uncle Algie. He deals with magical plants and ingredients on a fairly large scale, and was invited for the purpose of a possible agreement on business expansion, trade. He plans to conclude a couple of agreements for the exchange of farm employees and exchange of experience with foreign colleagues."
"Did you memorize this or what?" I smiled in a friendly way.
"Um..." the guy immediately deflated, "yes."
But he quickly pulled himself together.
"Don't know if you are all familiar with each other," I shifted my gaze from Daphne to the others.
In the course of a brief conversation, it turned out that Ernie and Hannah know Daphne, and I introduced Neville to her. For twenty minutes we stood and talked about all sorts of nonsense, and, as I noticed, this allowed Neville to noticeably relax, and when Daphne and I raised the topic of plant ingredients—well here he generally found himself in his element, as they say. But he remained sad.
"Neville, what is it?" I decided to clarify the reason for such moods.
"What exactly?"
"You are somehow sad."
"Just... Malfoys... Not the family in whose house I would really want to be."
"Don't know specific reasons," I dissembled a little, since during the search for information in the library came across articles stating about the capture and sending to Azkaban of several Death Eaters for torturing the Longbottom couple with Cruciatus. "But, it seems to me, if your uncle sees something important and necessary for him in this event, you should support him."
True, there were no case materials there, and the transcripts of that meeting clarified absolutely nothing. Among the detainees was Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black—Narcissa Malfoy's own sister. Think Neville is aware of such kinship, and moreover, somewhere in even older records there was information about the wedding of someone from Longbottoms and Blacks—old parchment, text barely readable. In general, it's hard for the guy.
"So that's why I agreed," Neville nodded. "Although grandmother was against. Very strongly against. Feel I will regret it."
"Ah," Daphne nodded understandingly. "Educational activities."
"Exactly," Neville soured, causing kind smiles from the others, and smiled himself in the end.
"Hector," Daphne touched my sleeve. "Let's go to Pansy?"
"Guys?" I looked at the others with a question.
"Dismiss," Ernie smiled under Hannah's silent approval. "I am not ready to participate in a competition of wit, malice and arrogance. Neville, let's go there..." Ernie nodded towards a company of young wizards, clearly already graduated from Hogwarts, but still, it seems, not crossed the bar of twenty years.
Daphne and I approached the company, mostly consisting of Slytherins, among whom were older guys from Ravenclaw, and from Gryffindor too. I noticed last year's graduate—Marcus Flint.
"Oh, Granger!" it was Marcus who noticed me first, and quite joyfully held out a hand, which I shook. "Surprising to see you at this reception. Coming to success. Miss Greengrass..."
Marcus nodded to Daphne. And it began: "Granger. Malfoy. Greengrass. Granger. Crabbe. Greengrass. Granger. Goyle. Greengrass. Granger. Davis. Greengrass. Hmm... Not 'Hmm', but Granger, Nott. Greengrass...". In general, gloom of social norms and customs.
"Let me introduce," Marcus pointed his hand at a guy unknown to me about twenty years old, maybe a little older. "Nicholas Allen, graduate of ninety-two and Dueling Club champion."
"Hm?" Nicholas, brown-haired of average appearance with a tenacious gaze of brown eyes, looked at Marcus with a question, but eventually nodded to me.
"And this is Hector Granger, daring and talented flyer. According to rumors, now he is the most fierce fighter in Hog."
"Even so?" not only Nicholas was surprised, but also me. "Well, Mr. Granger... You are Muggle-born?"
"Yes, Mister..."
"Let's use names."
"Yes, Nicholas."
"Well, Hector," he smiled. "And you do right. Maybe this way other purebloods will remember that they are wizards, and not high-born appendages to wands."
"Will hope that the example of my successes will be a motivator for development, and not a cause for envy and indignation."
"Well, you won't get rid of this. Miss Greengrass," he nodded to Daphne.
"Mr. Allen."
The rest, it is worth noting, listened to the conversation, maybe even drew some conclusions, but judging by the looks, one should not particularly hope for this.
"Maybe I'm interfering in not my business, but I had the displeasure to lose a bet, and now at this evening am obliged to say what I think. See, you and Hector are closer to each other than it may seem. So here. From experience I will say—spit on everyone who is dissatisfied with the situation. Time will put everything in its place..."
"Yes you are a philosopher," Marcus smirked, demonstrating even perfect teeth. It seems one of the goals for him at this evening is to show everyone that with teeth he now has complete order.
"You bet. And tell me, Hector, what spells do you prefer in a duel..."
And off we went. Conversations about magic—far from only dueling, but generally—gradually dragged others in too. Usually it happened like this—someone purely out of spite snorts at some statement of mine, and older guys deftly spin the dissatisfied one for a dialogue. Half a minute—and we are already fully communicating about spells, charms, potions. Malfoy and Nott looked a little displeased. As Pansy told me "in secret", they have been trying to mull over the topic of Muggle-borns and so on for an hour, but these questions did not cause special enthusiasm in the team, and as soon as a reason was found to move on to much more interesting topics, albeit not for the majority, everyone immediately happily began to talk about this—just not another run about "Mudbloods", their place and other nonsense that everyone is sick of.
The reception went on as usual. Someone got drunk, someone overate. Someone concluded contracts. Lucius Malfoy came out to the center of the hall a couple of times, telling how glad he is, about a bright future and other usual pleasantries against the background of other things. There were dances too, but only a couple. Just for a change. Of course, I danced with Daphne, who was very much not against it.
Soon it was time for everyone to disperse. This process stretched for two hours, no less, while the reception itself, as it were, continued—just the number of guests constantly decreased until almost no one remained.
"Monsieur Granger," cheerful and satisfied Mr. Delacour approached me. "Soon I will write to you. On our issue with you. Within a week. If possible, I will ask you not to leave the country. Owls... Do not fly very well over long distances. And the others, it seems, took your words seriously. Assume, purely because you are a guest of Lucius, and not young Draco..."
"I heard you, Mr. Delacour. I will be in the 'access zone'."
Saying goodbye to Daphne, to Astoria, dissatisfied with the fact of my existence and hitherto running somewhere around the house together with a classmate, Selwyn, don't know the name, I looked around the hall, once again remembered the faces of all present, noticed Sylvia in a distant dark corner, looking more like a predator in ambush, and went to the hall with the fireplace. It was there that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were now, seeing off guests.
"Mr. Granger," slightly tired Mr. Malfoy smiled sparingly. "Hope you spent this evening productively."
"More than, Mr. Malfoy, more than. Accept my gratitude for this wonderful evening and no less wonderful and interesting guests."
"It couldn't be otherwise, don't consider it boasting."
"Mrs. Malfoy," I nodded with a smile to this gorgeous blonde.
"Mr. Granger," she nodded back, glanced at the fireplace, and suddenly asked a question: "How do you prefer to return?"
"For obvious reasons, at home my fireplace is not connected to the network."
"Understand," she nodded. "Then, recommend to the Leaky Cauldron. Even if this place is maximally unpresentable, but works around the clock and from there you can get anywhere on the Knight Bus."
"Thanks for the advice. Prefer Apparition."
"At such a young age?" Mr. Malfoy was surprised. "It seems you really strive for the heights of magical art. All the best."
"And to you, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy."
Fireplace, green flame, Leaky Cauldron. There were practically no visitors here, massive wooden tables were clean and empty, lights dimmed—usual evening atmosphere in a tavern with medieval surroundings. Unless some drunkard spoiled the whole picture, drinking something and snacking on quite decent dishes... Yes, snacking on food, not a snack.
I headed to the exit to the ordinary part of London, but was stopped by the Barman's call.
"Where are you going, young man? Muggle world is there, full of dangers!"
"I live there, sir," I nodded and walked away, leaving Tom, that's the barman's name, in slight bewilderment. Well, at least, it seemed so to me.
Hiding myself with magic, entered the first alley I came across, hiding from the light of street lamps. Night London—special London. Although I am sure that any person can say so about any city. Night subtly changes them beyond recognition. But now I was not interested in this. Apparition—and here I stand in the alley between the supermarket and the neighboring building, and a little further away young people hang out, seemingly drinking something alcoholic. They didn't see me and couldn't see me, and therefore I went home without problems.
Well... The evening really turned out quite interesting and productive. Perhaps even succeed in starting to sell my artifacts, which is very good. Need only to think over some conveyor for their creation, otherwise sitting and knocking with a hammer on blanks I will be very, very long. And Delacour promised to write. It seems to me that a client for "healing" was found. Why not? And finishing the project on protecting relatives is simply extremely necessary. Yes... Summer can be difficult.
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