Chapter 136 - 136

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Sorry for no chapters yesterday. I was admitted to the hospital for an allergy reaction.

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I was back with a notebook and pen in a minute, and the common room was more or less quiet. The reason for that was a little heated argument between Hermione, Ron, and Harry. The girl had left the couch in our secluded corner and was standing around arguing with the redhead and Harry while the others watched, pretending they weren't interested.

"Why do you even care who I hang out with and whose son Max is?" crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione looked at her opponents, looking from one to the other.

"Why don't you understand?" ranted Ron in his loud voice. Does he get that from his mother? "He's the son of the Death Eaters! He is Malfoy! Harry, tell her! What did your godfather write, and what did Lupin say?"

"Ron's right," Potter replied calmly. No one noticed me on my way out of the men's wing, so I quickly put a concealing spell on myself and headed towards this company. "The godfather knew the elder Malfoy's wife well, and Professor Lupin had seen her. They were a couple of years younger. Max is an exact copy of her and his birthday is the same day as Draco's."

"So what?"

"It's pretty clear 'what'!" thundered Ron again. "I bet he didn't get into our House by accident! I bet he's up to some nasty business!"

"Yeah?" Hermione spoke a little quieter, and I was already standing next to her, across from our Golden Duo.

"Exactly!" almost exclaimed Ron and Harry together.

"I mean, such is your gratitude for Ginny's life and yours," Hermione jabbed her finger at Harry. "Potter..."

"Yeah, he probably did it to gain his trust," Ron brushed it off. "And Harry probably would have done it on his own."

"And it doesn't even bother you two that Max looks nothing like Lucius Malfoy?"

<What interesting things are going on in the lion kingdom,> Rowena reminded about herself after a rather long silence.

"Well," grinned Weasley. "Who knows these Death Eaters? Maybe she got a baby from someone..."

I unmasked myself with a simple burst of magic, and, to the astonished stares of Weasley and Potter, I moved closer, and with force, but without fanaticism, slammed my left hand right into the redhead's liver. The redhead was thrown a little, but he immediately bent over and collapsed on the floor, crouching, writhing in pain, even panting. Potter didn't disappoint and instantly pulled his wand from somewhere in his pocket and pointed it at my face. But even an idiot understands that you need to break the distance and not poke a concentrator in the face of the enemy. With a sharp thrust of my right hand on Potter's wrist, I sent his wand flying, and Harry followed it with such a sad and disbelieving look that I wanted to laugh.

"Watch your mouth, Weasley.

"Aargh... Fuck you..." Ron grumbled, still lying there.

I watched the situation from the corner of my eye, but the funny thing was that no one rushed to help, nor did anyone attempt to separate. The twins shook their heads in frustration, and one handed the other a coin. I took a step toward Ron, but Hermione's hand rested on my elbow.

"Max, no."

Half-turning to look at the girl, I saw concern for the consequences in her gaze.

"He's not worth it."

"Tsk..." Glancing at Ron squirming and the worried Potter crouched next to him, I just nodded. "You're right."

"Why did you hit him!" resented Harry, glaring up at me from below.

"Is it hard to figure it out yourself, Harry?"

"Don't talk to them... Kha..." Weasley began to rise.

Ginny ran up to Potter, handing him his wand.

"Here, Harry."

"Thank you," Potter nodded, accepting the wand, but was in no hurry to apply it, putting it somewhere inside his gray windbreaker.

Hermione and I went back to the couch, the boys in the common room went back to their business. Potter and Ron went to their favorite table at the other end of the common room. The redhead glared at us angrily, and when the smiling twins approached him and started saying something obviously not very nice, Ron flared up and puffed like a steam engine and retreated into the room.

"When will he finally calm down?" exclaimed Hermione, sitting next to me and looking into the fireplace.

"I have no idea. Oh yes, we wanted to exchange numbers."

Writing Knight's phone number in my notebook, I tore out the sheet and gave it to Hermione along with the notebook. The girl quickly wrote her own and returned the notebook. It's funny. I never thought I would return to this kind of exchange of numbers - I was too used to smartphones and other benefits of civilization, which would not appear soon in this world.