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While I was thinking about the upcoming troubles, a suspicious blue silhouette flashed outside the window, completely incompatible with the views of Scotland’s nature. Looking sharply to the side, I saw an entertaining picture.

“Look, Hermione. Crazy duo in action.” I nodded with a grin in the direction of an old flying car, sky blue.

“What is there?” Hermione looked out the window without much enthusiasm and was speechless, frozen for a few seconds with her mouth parted.

The faces of Ron and Harry, looking out the windows, were full of panic, mingled with joy. Hermione snapped her teeth.

“Just… phenomenal irresponsibility!” the girl was indignant.

“I don’t know what exactly made the guys use such a car instead of a floo network, but the scandal will be notable.”

Hermione became interested in the new information and, waving her hand at her classmates, turned to me.

“Floo network?”

“Yeah. One way to move wizards. The most common fireplaces can be connected to this network and move between fireplaces with flying powder. There is a fireplace like this at King’s Cross, The Leaky Cauldron, Sweet Kingdom, and Boar’s Head. The last two establishments are in Hogsmeade.”

“And how do you know everything?”

“Just heard it somewhere.,” I shrugged. “People around tend to give out an incredible amount of useful information. The main thing is to hear it. Of course, there are many more fireplaces, but these are the ones that I know for sure. There is one more address, though. Ministry of Magic. Atrium.”

“This is pretty useful information. It would be much more convenient to move around if the fireplace at home was connected to such a network.

“Not worth it,” I shook my head. “Such a fireplace is not only a point of entry but also an exit. Only a house-elf or a wizard can close the fireplace from movement, and your parents are ordinary people. An intruder can get into them through the fireplace – just find out the address of the fireplace.”

“I see. Then really not worth it. By the way, about the house-elves! Hermione beamed. “In France, I visited such an interesting place as the Public Library. Magic, of course. There I found a lot of information about the house-elves. You know, you were right. They thumb their nose at salary and weekends.”

“Give me some more details,” I smiled and made myself comfortable.

The girl perked up a little and enthusiastically began to share her findings. House-elves are unable to generate magic and really absorb it from the world around them. At the same time, they feed on this very magic and without it weaken, wither, go crazy and die. There are several theories about their origins, but this is not so important. House-elves to maintain their lives establish a connection with wizards, and in exchange for work, they receive magic.

On the one hand, you might think that they are forced to work for food, but for house-elves, magic is everything! And doing some work is in their blood. Even without a connection, they will try to serve, to do something for someone they cannot do otherwise.

“But at the same time, they are still very badly treated,” Hermione summed up. “It is not right. After all, they do a lot for wizards, and in the end, they only receive punishments. But … there are also pitfalls here.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. It seems that she has not yet understood how she should treat this information.

“What?”

“House-elves seek to punish themselves. The punishment diminishes their magic pool, and they start trying harder.”

“Hmm. So this is just their natural motivation mechanism. It turns out that by depriving the house-elves of punishment, you seem to deprive them of the opportunity to motivate themselves. Then they will harm themselves, without outside interference, but at the same time, they will suffer.”

“They are strange.”

“You look at the question as a human – that’s one. As a person from modern society with modern values ​​- that’s two. And they are just different. That’s all.”

“It’s a pity. They look so miserable.”

“Here, I agree. They really look heartbroken. Moreover, it does not depend on their happiness – they will always look like that. I think you can make at least one house-elf happy if you tie it to you.”

Hermione was somewhat skeptical about the thought and shook her head.

“No, Max, I’m not yet ready to change my attitude to what is happening so drastically.”

“Then let’s leave this conversation.”

During almost a third of the trip, all students periodically had a unique opportunity to look at a strange blue car flying after the train. She appeared and disappeared again, and I would like to know what will be said about this at Hogwarts. Hermione and I had the privilege of seeing this sight four more times. In one of such turns of a flying Ford, Hermione almost choked on a bread crumb from a sandwich – too suddenly, a car appeared literally a couple of meters from the window.

“You will not change?” Hermione asked as the train was approaching Hogsmeade.

“Nope,” I waved my hand. “I can be present at the feast in this anyway. I’ll just put on my mantle.”

“As you wish.”

She is already in uniform right from home, as I understand it.

The Hogsmeade platform greeted us with the same darkness as the last time. Still, now we did not have to wait for Hagrid, and we simply went with most of the students to the carriages standing nearby. I saw the Thestrals. Large black creatures, more like skin-covered skeletons of horses. But they differed from ordinary horses with leather wings folded behind their backs and a likeness of a beak. Glancing at Hermione, I realized that she did not see them, and when would she manage to see and realize death?

Climbing into the carriage, I helped Hermione to climb, sitting next to her. A couple of minutes later, Neville stuck his head through the doorway.

“May I join you?”

“Come on, climb.”

The boy smiled modestly and climbed a little awkwardly inside.

“It’s kind of cold this fall,” he remarked distantly, sitting down opposite and looking out the window.

“The weather for this autumn, in general, promises to be stormy.” Hermione nodded.

In a couple of minutes, the carriages started to move. In fifteen minutes, we were already disembarking at the gate of the castle. Students in discordant rows, breaking into companies, briskly walked to Hogwarts in anticipation of a feast. Hermione and I had eaten already, who’s smarter, too. Still, I bet many stoically endured inconveniences, almost breaking into a run. But where is the hurry? The feast will not start until the end of the distribution.