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For several weeks, Harry walked with this diary as a great jewel and a secret, naively believing that no one notices how he furtively checks for its presence in his bag or how tiredly he looks at it, sitting at the table in our room, absorbed in his thoughts. But I see all this fuss, Hermione sees, although she does not show curiosity - well, the guy has a diary, so what? Ginny also sees it. Or maybe she just, as always, stares in love at her Hero at the first convenient opportunity. The main thing is that everything is going about as it should.

Valentine's Day came suddenly. Its suddenness was in the wretched, poisonous pink ornaments hung all over the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Okay, not miserable, quite high quality made, but ... Have mercy, Old Man, they are so sugary pink that it hurts my eyes. Here, Lockhart miscalculated and, against these decorations' background, began to simply get lost in his no less sugary pink robes. It is necessary, by the way, to obtain from him a new admission to the Forbidden Section because Hermione and I got too carried away with new perspectives, starting to process what was already memorized, embedding information into the created concept of magic.

"Ugh," Ron spat loudly at breakfast. "These nasty confetti are everywhere ..."

Everyone around him grimaced in understanding because the breakfast was spoiled. I sat down at the table only after the last sparkle landed, so my breakfast appeared later, clean and tasty.

While some were wasting their energy trying to cleanse the spoiled food, the unforgettable Lockhart stood up from the teacher's table and, as always, beaming with a smile, decided to keep his word.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" loudly, to the whole hall, he congratulated the students. "To begin with, let me thank everyone - and there are forty-five of them who sent me greeting cards for this day! I took the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you. But that is not all!"

Lockhart clapped his hands, and a procession of grim-looking dwarfs entered the hall. They looked like spell-enlarged and clothed garden gnomes. Perhaps they were, but the harp in their hands and the golden wings behind their backs turned these caricatured wrinkled creatures not at all into some kind of angels, but monstrous monsters, creatures of sick fantasy and nightmares.

"I present to you my dear cupids, Valentine letter-carriers!" with a radiant smile, Lockhart pointed with his hand at this procession. "Today, they will walk around the school and deliver valentines. The fun is just beginning! I am sure my colleagues will also want to contribute to our holiday!"

Lockhart stood half-turned to the teachers and began to kindly point his hand at those about whom he wanted to speak. As if nobody knows them here.

"Let's ask Professor Snape to show us how to make Love Potion! And Professor Flitwick, on this holiday of flaming hearts, could tell you something about the Love Charm. He knows about them, old prankster, more than any wizard!"

I was genuinely amused by the reaction of these teachers. Snape's gaze, perhaps, could kill as well as a basilisk, and poor Flitwick hid his face in his hands. Out of shame, I guess. Or maybe he didn't want to show the students a bloodthirsty grin? I bet he could do it, it's not for nothing that he is half a goblin, and Lockhart must have very high-quality enchanted clothes from the jinxes since he is still alive.

However, I wasn't destined to have fun for too long. I forgot! I forgot that my appearance was stunning.

"Hey, you, Gaia Pottey!" came a voice behind us when we almost came to the spell's lesson. I was about to have some fun, but ...

"Max Knight?" asked me, almost the same strange voice from somewhere below.

While I, like a complete fool, stared at this winged miracle with a harp in his hands, the same as this weirdo grabbed Potter tightly. Harry fought desperately to the chuckle of those around him, but the resistance was useless.

"A musical message to you, Gaia Pottey, personally."

"A musical message to you, Max Knight, personally," both messengers said in unison. Harry's bag, which the small monster grabbed, could not withstand the load, tore, things spilled out of it everywhere, and the bottle of ink broke, in addition smearing this "everything." It was then that the monster knocked Potter to the floor, straddled his legs, and wanted to broadcast with inspiration.

Slowly shifting my gaze at "my" messenger, who had already opened his mouth, I swung with all my might and kicked him.

"Ui-i-i-i!" screamed the monster set off in flight, while the second began to read the message to Potter. But even here, everything could not be smooth. By some unknown miracle, the flying monster ricocheted off the wall. It almost returned to the original one, again preparing to speak. And then he got another kick from me.

"Ui-i-i-i!" - he squealed again, and a harp flew out of his hands, and wings fell off his back, falling down cartoonishly, swaying from side to side.

"Ha! What is happening he..." Malfoy came around the corner with a cheeky smile, but not later than half a second ago, the harp knocked out of the monster's hands with a swing flew right into his forehead.

"Ouch!" The guy screamed loudly, lying on the floor and clutching his forehead with his hand.

Malfoy's comrades, Crabbe and Goyle, stared blankly at what was happening. As, in fact, and the rest of the Slytherins coming up to the class

"Why are you standing, idiots?!" Malfoy yelled. "Lift me up!"

Fat boys looked at each other, shrugged, and lifted Malfoy sharply.

"What bastard did that?" Angrily examined those around the blonde, pressing one hand to his forehead. But everyone just giggled — some over a rhyme for Harry, some over Malfoy, some over the whole situation.

"Dyako Malfoy?" there was another voice nearby. All at once looked at the next winged monster.

"Let's go!" Malfoy made a commanding decision and hastened to retreat with his comrades.

Harry awkwardly tried to smile with everyone, but it was clear from his face that he didn't like it, he didn't like such congratulations and their consequences.

"And what idiot thought of this?" said Ron approaching his friend, giving Harry his hand. And this "idiot" burst into tears and ran away. Frankly speaking, I do not believe in love at this age, and therefore I feel sorry for the so thoroughly brainwashed girl. Even if this was not done on purpose.

"What do you think," Hermione came over. "Who decided to confess to you so extravagantly?"

I looked closely into the girl's eyes.

"What?" She asked. "Do you think it's me?"

"Well, you are the only one with whom I communicate a lot and who knows me well enough for this."

"Oh," she put her fingertips to her forehead, massaging it. "Do you really think you need to know somebody well for that?"

I just shrugged. Well, it makes sense.

"Oh, boys," Hermione made a facepalm. "You don't understand anything."

Throughout the day, the disciples were harassed by these screaming winged monsters. As soon as they were dealt with, sometimes leading to explosions by various Reducto. Well, those who knew this spell. Senior students perceived everything much easier and with humor, and the congratulations themselves were not so much amorous as humorous in nature. But for my peers, this is a tragedy! In principle, at this age, everything perceived a little more seriously.