Capítulo 3: 3
Life got better. At school, they tried to pick on me because it had never worked with my classmates or other students before. But the first one, when he took a step towards me to hit me, tripped over his own shoelace and fell on his partner with an awkwardly torn hand. The floor in the classroom was wooden, so they weren't hurt too badly, but they ran to the teachers to tell them that Harry had hit them.
When the teacher came, I honestly told them what had happened, but they wouldn't listen to me. And the other pupils just confirmed the victims' words. The teacher didn't want to believe me either, it was obvious.
A deep irritation and anger rose in my chest. Why was the boy being punished in this way? Literally everything he had before me could only be characterised by pain and humiliation. And I, looking straight into the eyes of the smiling teacher who was punishing me, and into the same faces of the schoolchildren, smiled back.
This is war, comrades.
I was left behind after school and forced to sweep the floors. In our classroom and in the corridor. And then in the hall. And so the next day, from the very morning, there was an incident. Nobody could stand on the floor. It became like very smooth and slippery ice. But I'll be honest with you, much more slippery, because I removed the friction on it. People could not stand on it, they fell and flew into objects or walls in their way. Chaos reigned in the school.
I was free of bribes, my work was checked by the teacher on duty and he was pleased with the clean floor. And the fact that he got very drunk afterwards, and when he was drunk he was robbed, he even took off his trousers, that was only his own problem. Why get so drunk? Especially when he hadn't been drinking before. So it was an epic quest for him to wake up in the park and walk home completely naked in the morning. He managed to cover himself with a newspaper, but still many people looked at him disapprovingly.
And anyone who talked back and didn't listen got into epic trouble. The headmaster wouldn't come out of the toilet. The PE teacher was beaten up by two female teachers who were dating him at the same time, and they continued to beat him up day after day. Heh heh heh.
The pupils who had set me up got into a lot of trouble when they found things in their pockets that had been stolen from other pupils. And I had absolutely nothing to do with it. At least no witnesses or evidence. All I did was talk about seeing them do it. Those bastards really stole and always blamed it on who do you think? Yes, me.
Dudley watched in horror as I retaliated and tried to tell them everything, but just as he was about to tell his friends, I appeared out of nowhere and he shut up.
He even talked to me once about how mean I was.
- Dudley, did you understand what you just said? - I asked him.
- Yes!" he even nodded. - Do you realise you're ruining their lives? Stealing is no joke! They get fingered and their parents get upset! They are ...
- Stop it," I said seriously, looking him in the eye and raising my hand. - Now you listen to me, Dudley Dursle. Do you think I have done something bad? Well, yes, I have done a bad thing. But why should I put up with it and they don't? I've been accused so many times of stealing, fighting, defacing property... and nobody believed me or listened to me! No one! And why did those who saw what really happened help a liar? That's really mean. And it's happened more than once or twice. I could fight, but what difference would it make? It would just add to my problems. You only get what you give to others. So why shouldn't I show them what it's like to be accused of something I didn't do? Why should I feel sorry for them when they haven't felt sorry for me? Dudley, someone who's done wrong and been forgiven or not punished for it will do it again because they feel forgiveness and impunity.
- But you are taking revenge on them! - cried the boy.
- Yes, I am! - he shouted back. - Can't I? Why not, if I can?
- Because you use magic!
- What else can I do?! - he finally shouted. - What have I got?! Who have I got?! Nobody! Nothing at all! Only myself! And I don't always use magic! Only that trick on the floor was magic! You think I'm wrong? Then choke on your own truth, and I will not be mocked!
- But you're ruining their lives!
- And who gave those little fools the right to break mine?!
- Don't you know what you're doing is wrong?
- That's just it, I do! And I don't like it! What about them? Do you remember their smiles when they took me to the headmaster's office? And when they hit me?
- But! But..." The boy couldn't find any more arguments.
- And remember when I couldn't defend myself! Remember my broken bones! The blood and the wounds! - I was carried away. I've read almost all of the real Harry's memories and experienced the same things he did. So I'm part of him now. - You had everything! I had practically nothing!
- You want to take it all away from me?! - Dudley clenched his fists and glared at me with hatred.
- No,' I said calmly, sighing sadly. - All I wanted was a little happiness and food and warmth. But at least I was grateful that I didn't grow up on the streets.
- There! You had a roof over your head, and you...
- Dudley, sometimes I wanted to get out from under this roof, rain or shine. Away from you, the constant beatings and humiliations and tears. After all, my life was better than that of a pauper, just because I had a roof over my head! The food is just as bad! And you know what..." I looked at him with such an arctic chill that Dudley shivered. - "You're the one who's been acting like you're the one who's been acting like you're the one. You've been worse than an animal to me. And if you ever meddle in my affairs again, or try to tell everyone it's my fault... you'll be standing next to them. After all, the only thing that's covered you up so far is that your parents were drugged with magic. But my patience is not infinite.
And I turned and walked out from under the stairs towards the exit of the school. The teacher who tried to stop me got a kick in the shin and had to leave me alone.
I went outside, looked around at the gloomy weather, which was the norm in London, and walked towards the city centre, jumping on a bus on the way.
It was a long journey, but soon I was standing at the entrance to the Ministry of Education, clutching the necessary papers with a forged Dursley signature.
The hall outside the Ministry was large and beautiful. With a marble floor, lots of posters and desks with information about where to apply to study.
At the reception desk I was greeted by a smiling red-haired girl with freckles on her nose and cheeks. But there were only a few, so it looked cute and added to her cuteness. She was dressed in black business shoes, a white shirt and a black knee-length skirt with a small neckline on her left thigh. She also wore flesh-coloured kapron tights.
The green, as they say, 'witch' eyes looked at me with mild curiosity.
- Hello. I would like to know where the early graduation office is.
Hearing this from a nine-year-old boy, the girl smiled indulgently and said:
- Hello boy, are you sure you want to go there? Because if you can't prove your qualifications and knowledge, you could be fined...
- Girl," I sighed wearily, adjusting my glasses on my nose, which were more of a prop now that my eyesight was excellent. - 'In connection with the Education Act and its sub-clause number eleven, any student who believes that he or she has the knowledge to complete secondary or higher education ahead of schedule may apply to the Ministry of Education for a meeting of assessors who will decide whether the applicant knows enough to confirm his or her status as having completed the required or existing level of education,' the girl opened her mouth indecently at this answer and looked at me in shock. - To pass the commission, you have to come to the ministry building on any Wednesday that is not a holiday and present the commission with a letter from your parents or legal guardian, signed by them, a certificate of payment of the state fee for early certification, and documents from the school stamped by the headmaster. Here are all these documents.
And he put them on the counter in front of the girl. She was still impressed by the nine-year-old's knowledge.
How did I get all this? I forged a letter from the Dursleys, not difficult, really. And the school paperwork was trivial, while the headmaster was in the toilet and his secretary was in the housekeeping room getting toilet paper. It's not hard to steal paper from all the toilets after the cleaner's shift, and the Headmaster has a bad case of diarrhoea. Oh, and stop the secretary at the school administration desk with a little indoctrination.
The girl came to her senses and made a phone call, so that within fifteen minutes I was in the office with ten experts who were going to assess my knowledge.
In another hour and a half I walked out of there with a confirmation of my qualification list. Then I went to three more offices, leaving the committee in deep shock at my knowledge.
I put four sheets of confirmations in my inner pocket and went to an office where these sheets were examined and almost sniffed, called and checked for authenticity and then the seal of the Ministry was lowered four times.
I left the building and walked towards the police station, turning into an alley on the way. From there I was no longer a nine-year-old boy, but a twenty-five-year-old brown-haired man with round glasses and a three-piece suit, carrying a briefcase, on my way to the police station.
There I introduced myself as the defendant's lawyer and presented a statement and all the necessary paperwork to bring a case against my own school against the pupil, Harold James Potter, as well as pictures of the beating, an audio recording of the incident, a videotape and everything else. I had overwhelming evidence of wrongdoing against a minor student.
The police were amazed at the information they received and the fact that they didn't have to do much. Everything is in hand, they just have to open the case.
Then I went to the guardianship authorities, where I filed papers about the violation of a minor's rights by the school, in order to make her life more difficult. They didn't want to listen, to do anything, to get involved? Well, let them know all the circles of hell. For local schools, such a case is a blow to their reputation. Which means income. A school like this could be closed down. And nobody would want to send their children there. And if they close the case... there's more.
And there's a packet of papers for three newspapers in the letterbox. Public opinion is more important for the schools. And now I've literally destroyed it.
As I walked back into the alley, I met two leather-clad guys who looked at me with interest.
- Are you working? - I asked, taking off my glasses and putting them in my briefcase.
- Something like that," the black-haired one with the scar on his right eyebrow nodded in surprise.
- Are you from Seevy or Limp? You're a bit of a trader around here, aren't you? - I set the case aside and undid a button or two on his shirt.
- Oh! So you've heard? From Limp," nodded the other, red-haired, stocky, brown-eyed man.
- I've got to say hello to Snake," I crane my neck and shake his hand. - And tell him the goods are ready.
- Hmm. What if we were from Sivoy? - asked the black man.
- Yes, the same. Greetings from Snake and that the goods are ready,' I shrugged. - Shall we dance or what?
The boys looked at each other and the brunette spat into the alley.
- Nah. Go on, if you know respectable people," she said, leaning back against the brick wall of the alley.
- By the way, tell Limp that his son is blowing in the salt again," I added, picking up my suitcase. - I don't want the boy to get lost in his reverie.
- Oh yes! - The boy nodded in surprise. - No problem.
- Good hunting," he nodded and walked deeper into the alley. Out of the other alley and onto the main road, he made his way towards the house in his current form.
This school would pay for treating a child like that within its walls. I don't care about the consequences if they can't calculate them themselves.
A week later, the school was shaken from all sides at once. A criminal case was opened, the guardianship authorities launched a full-scale inspection, and three popular newspapers and a news channel (the latter surprised me. I did not watch them) published reports and articles about the abuses at the school and the attitude towards the children being educated there. The school management was running around like a madman, pale and extremely frightened.
But I didn't care, because an hour before the end of that school, I received a certificate on paper from the Ministry. And now I was sitting on the bench at the entrance, enjoying the total humiliation of the school. Was it brutal? And all that? I don't care. And in the light of this, many other educational institutions will reflect on their treatment of oppressed children, and I will help them, if only in this way.
After watching the school administration run around, I set off for the University of London. Why there? It's simple: the third official ranking in the whole of the UK, a huge number of professions and opportunities, in short, to be a graduate of this university is prestigious and the future of its students, if they have a head on their shoulders, is quite bright and successful. And there are three more places on the King's Scholarship. This means that particularly bright and promising children can go to this university at the expense of the Crown and even receive a scholarship. However, I don't need a scholarship, I need a small sub-point on the list of scholarships I received from the Ministry. It says that a person with this document has the right, after one year of excellent grades, to take all the exams as an external student and to get a diploma after an internship. And the internship would be paid for by the Crown. Which is incredibly tempting for me, not having a lot of money. And to have the best higher education in a world of simpletons... that is, even for a wizard, oh so good, because that world is quite open to him and will give him a lot. And I realise that I only have until eleven. That is, just over a year.
I started my studies at university a long time ago, but the third piece of paper from the ministry makes it all go away. It confirms that I have all the knowledge I need. And the fourth paper gives me the opportunity to do a traineeship directly at the Department for Education in England. I made my speech when I received this certificate, so that the Ministry would benefit from the fact that within its walls there would be an intern of a young genius, who at eleven will have graduated from the most prestigious university in the country, and it would give the Ministry more influence and public attention. After I said this, one of the assessors on the committee asked me if I was really nine. I replied with a statement from my records that yes, I was still nine.
By the way, the three on the committee invited me to join their faculties if I went to the University of London. Cool men, though. And after talking to me, they did not see me as a child, but as a very intelligent and promising specialist. It was like I'd graduated, really!
And I was bloody pleased with their attitude! That's why I didn't go to Cambridge or anything like that, I went there. I see too many positive aspects of studying at this university.
Admission went surprisingly smoothly, apart from the utter shock on the faces of everyone I visited in what really is a huge university! It was like a mini campus! It was exhausting running around the buildings looking for the one I wanted!
However, after three days I walked into the lecture hall, took my seat, put some books under my bum and then some pillows when I bought them, shocking the other students with my presence. Their shock was compounded, however, when the lecturer entered the room, took roll and told everyone that he was very pleased that I had chosen his subject. He even came over and shook my hand. I could hear the sound of jaws dropping and the shocked squeaking of students' brains.
The Dursleys, who had heard from Dudley that I was an extern, were shocked to see me in my university uniform. And Vernon, when he had recovered from his shock, spoke to me. When the conversation was over, he shook my paw respectfully and gave his blessing for my studies, a little offended by my statement that I wasn't sure they had signed the right papers. On reflection, however, he confessed that he could not believe I would be able to get in because it was very difficult.
My studies were going splendidly, I knew the material very well and I often had discussions with the professor during the lectures, which we both really enjoyed, with lots of arguments and references to academic papers and facts from history. As the professor confessed, when he and I were alone in an empty lecture theatre, I would make a formidable lawyer who would be welcome in any firm in London. But only when I was older, for the legal age limit for entering the profession was strict - only from the age of eighteen, or better still, twenty-one.
After six months of quiet study, I could no longer count the problems of the other students, who still could not believe that there was a child prodigy of nine, and later ten, years old among them. They didn't talk to me much, I don't know why. They didn't even ask me for help. I think my age creates a lot of dissonance in people's minds.
And on the bus when I go to study, a lot of people look at me condescendingly when they see my uniform and my university badge and think it is cosplay.
Three months later, I applied for a work placement, to the shock of the university authorities and the delight of Professor Heiring, my immediate supervisor and, if I may say so, friend. Unless, of course, you believe in the friendship between a ten-year-old boy and a fifty-six-year-old professor.
Of course, they wanted to refuse me, but I had brought them a stack of original papers and even several dissertations signed by Haring, which they could not ignore. All the more so because Professor Haring himself spoke of me as an amazing legal genius who could defend his doctorate in a year if he so wished. And even then, only because of the bureaucracy and professional work involved.
So the internship was credited to me and I was sent off to look for an internship. The next day, I presented the impressed committee with a certificate confirming that I had been accepted by the Ministry of Education as a junior specialist. All six of them fell over themselves and started whispering about how I had incredible connections and the like.
The account of the exercise will bore you, of course, as I went through a huge amount of paperwork and handed the compressed sums of it to a senior specialist, Mr Smith. He was deeply shocked when he received my first report and, after checking it over and over again, he gave me the job with a clear conscience. He also got me a salary from my bosses as a junior member of the legal department of the British Department of Education. And that, for a moment, is two thousand pounds a month! When I got my first pay cheque, I pulled my jaw off the floor with a nail gun.
And in June of the year one thousand nine hundred and ninety-one, Harold James Potter graduated in law, with the highest marks of the year and an internship at the Ministry, which very insistently asked me to continue working for them. They even threatened me with promotion. I refused, referring to my rest and the fact that I wanted to do a Master's degree and then defend my doctorate by becoming a professor. They nodded and asked me to contact them if I needed more practice. I was pleasantly surprised and even flattered by the attention. The Ministry itself benefited from having the young genius working for them. The newspapers wrote about it more than once.
Why was there no reaction from DDD? How should I know? Maybe he doesn't read the papers, except for the magical prophet? Ouch, what's the point of guessing? It's all right if he stays away. Soon he'll be off to that madhouse called Hogwarts anyway.
I've got an inheritance and goblins to deal with. And I even know how to do it. When I get there, those financiers are going to be in a state of shock...
In mid-August, we received a letter from Hogwarts. My aunt and uncle were not happy about it, but they gave it to me anyway and told me to decide for myself if I wanted to go there or not.
I sighed sadly, for by the laws of the magical world I had no right not to go to that school of idiocy. Where did you get this information? Psionics and a cursed Auror who, by the end of the week, was stuttering and staring fearfully at every disturbance, that was the answer.
Next I was to meet the Woodsman, for whose arrival I had prepared obstacle course number three. A special one for giants.
I had spent the whole summer working on my altered core, making small but important progress...
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder