Harry Potter: New World

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Then Kreacher came down, holding a small bag.

"Kreacher packed everything," the house-elf held out the bag to me. " Everything is neat. Everything is folded."

"Kreacher!" spoke Walburga in a commanding voice. "Pack a couple of Andromeda ball sets for the fourth and fifth years. Lighter, airier. In light colors."

Kreacher bowed, held out his hand for the bag he had just handed me, and after receiving it, he trudged back upstairs, muttering something quietly.

"Thank you."

"No need for that, Max. If I hadn't done this, you would have gone to some atelier, where they would have made in a hurry some sloppy and oversized dress. Lord Black's companion should not appear at a ball in unsuitable clothes, even if this very Lord does not advertise his status. Sooner or later, it will all come out, and then everyone will immediately remember that at the first ball, the lord showed up with a girl dressed in the first thing they could get their hands on."

"I thought you said it wasn't about clothes."

"Certainly, but if the opportunity is there, why not?" Walburga smoked and let out a couple of rings of drawn smoke. "Oh, and it's always worth considering... what was it that Alfard used to say? Social expectations? Our norms for the ball are quite wide and do not shine with special severity. A lady's loose hair, any colors of clothing, and great liberties in style are acceptable, except for one - a wide floor-length skirt. It's the same for the wizard. The main thing in a gentleman's clothing is austerity. But the higher the status, the higher the requirement for the quality of clothing. You can go as far as you want to shock the public, but the quality of your clothes and accessories must be of the highest quality."

"What about the other girl?"

"House of Black won't be impoverished by depriving the closet of a couple of ballroom sets that no one will wear anyway. An item, like money, must be used. If it's there just to be, then knut the price of such a thing."

The footsteps of Kreacher muttering to himself were heard from above, and a few seconds later, the old house-elf handed me the bag again.

"Kreacher put everything in a bag."

"What about my suit?"

"It's all in the best shape, young Head."

"You did well, Kreacher."

Despite the house-elf's expression, "Of course!", Kreacher bowed and, since no one else demanded anything, went about his business. And by the way, the stairs don't creak anymore and look very new.

"In that case, Lady Walburga, I'm going back to Hogwarts."

"And how did you get here if it's no secret?"

"Apparated."

"At such a young age? I wouldn't be surprised at anything anymore, though."

"I learned combat transgression, too."

"I believe you. I won't be surprised if you can calmly move the shaft of FiendFyre."

<Calculated from your data and knowledge. Not easy, but possible.>

I only nodded.

"Maybe I'll stop by one of these days."

"In that case, Max, I will ask Kreacher to prepare you the literature on which the Black generations were raised. You may be a lord, by the blood of Black, but it's not the blood that makes you a Black. It only gives you the opportunity to become one."

"Will the new demands never end?"

"There is no limit to perfection, Max."

That was the end of our brief conversation, and I left the house and, entering the same gloomy alleyway nearby, apparated to the edge of Hogwarts' charms. I restored the concealing charms again, and in the cold but waning breeze and the snowflakes melting on my face, I went to the castle.

The common room greeted me with the same liveliness, and even the characters were almost the same. Hermione and Lavender were still sitting on the couch, and if the blonde was sadly sipping tea, kindly brought by Parvati, then Hermione was clearly planning some nasty thing.

"Ladies," I turned to the girls as soon as I approached the sofa. "I have news for you."

Taking off the bag Kreacher had packed, I handed it to the girls.

"And what's in it?" asked Parvati immediately.

"Grab your friends and go look. To your room. And check everything for pests. And lock yourself in. And in general. Not a school, but some kind of obstacle course."

"Seems like a pretty normal school to me," the Indian girl shrugged, lifting the lively girls off the couch by the arms. "Girls can do nastier things than that."

The ladies disappeared into the girls' wing, and Seamus and Dean, still in their loose, casual clothes, immediately approached me. Though, Dean is one of the few who wore pants, a shirt, and a jumper, even as ordinary clothes. One day someone asked him: "Why?" The answer was simple to the point of madness - in tattered sneakers, jeans, and hoodies, he will walk in his almost ghetto anyway, but here there is a reason and an opportunity to look like a normal person. Previously, he wanted to become a good lawyer, wear suits and help his not the most sensible comrades in the area to get out of trouble. I wonder if his goals have changed a lot, or after coming of age, he will secretly help them with magic?