HP: Spirit Talker

The next thing I know, I have a bulky bag in my hands, which I immediately drop to the ground and pull out my wand. A wave. A tent roll with ropes and stakes flies out of the bag. Another wave. The tent unfolds, stretches, and begins to rise as the inner poles fall into place. Another swing. The pegs are in the ground, the tent is fully pitched, and the ropes are tied.

— Please! — My wand is no longer in my hand, and with an open palm I invite my guests inside.

For an experienced magician, I have just demonstrated a certain level of skill, including the flexibility of the charms used. The teenager paid little attention to it, merely taking note of the fact, but Sirius looked a little different.

I ordered this tent because I didn't have time to run around on my own. Six bedrooms, a large living room, a kitchen, two bathrooms and two toilets. All this wealth cost one thousand three hundred and twenty gold pieces. But it was a good thing, especially since such purchases are not made just once, but are even passed on to children as an inheritance.

We sat in the large living room at a tall walnut table covered with a snow-white tablecloth. So Black had to take off his dirty coat, leaving him in a baggy, coarse-knit sweater that hung from him, while Harry wore some of his shirts and sweatshirts. Then, under two still surprised looks, I pulled a picnic basket out of the ring, also with an extension, from which I placed a tureen of fresh mushroom soup, a pot of rabbit stew, and three thermoses of coffee, tea, and orange juice on the table.

Last on the table was a wicker box of baked strawberry pies. Both Harry's and Sirius's eyes were on the same porcelain plates I'd poured the flavored soup into. Well, another clue: Sirius Orion Black and his friends and the Order have forgotten what it means to be a wizard, since the free use of items with expansion and stasis is not commonplace for him. He also shows a level of familiar magic, which is also an indicator.

Before Black could start eating, they literally had to make him wipe his hands with a hot, wet towel, which also surprised him a bit, because it was obvious that he knew what it was for, but didn't use it. Harry, on the other hand, had to explain everything, and the teenager frankly admitted that he did not know about such a thing, but agreed that the idea was common sense.

They also had to urge them both to take elixirs to normalize their metabolism. Great stuff, by the way, no contraindications or age restrictions. Black struggled, of course, suspecting attempts to poison or sedate him, but the smell of a normal lunch, which he had not seen in who knew how long, broke the will of the Animagus.

The first portion was literally swallowed by both of them. Once again, I praise the elixir, for even taking it before a meal can cure many ailments. However, not everyone can afford such a treatment, as a serving on the market costs two to three hundred gold pieces.

And that's if the elixir makes it to the market, because Britain and Europe in general don't have such special mushrooms, which are only found in Japan, China and Taiwan. By the time these two were in the middle of a thick stew, I had just finished the soup, but decided to skip the second. The cakes were also delicious, as was the excellent green tea while I drank the juice.

— Ugh! — Sirius downed the last of the cakes, glanced at the next one, but was in no hurry to continue. — It's been so long since I've had a proper meal. Thank you, boy!

— You're welcome. — I nod. — And now we can talk. By the way, the tent has a cloaking and concealing spell, so you don't have to worry about that. First of all, Harry has told me a lot about your situation. Including the fact that Albus Dumbledore was involved in the fate of your entire company and knew many, if not all, of the details. So the question is, have you spoken to him about dropping the charges against you, compensating you for the court's error, and reinstating you?

— No. — Black shook his long hair sharply. — I mean, I didn't meet with him to talk about it. But I did manage to send him a letter telling him not to rush this case and not to hide, and when the time was right, the director promised to ask for a review of my case. — Okay, that's another minus.

— Okay. — Quiet voice, even tone, slightly melancholy eyes. — You were a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Do you have any close friends or acquaintances in the Aurorate or in high positions in the Ministry?

— If you try hard enough, — the Animagus thought for a moment. — You can find a few people. Why? — Is he an idiot, or just pretending to be?

— The main thing is to get a copy of your case so that it cannot be tampered with in case of movement. Besides, there was no trial as such — the initial interrogation of a person in a state of affect cannot be called such. And that, just so you know, is so much dirt on the entire Ministry and two ministers that you're bound to get killed "trying to escape" for it. — While Sirius tried to comprehend what he had heard, Potter spoke.

— And why would that apply to the two ministers if Fudge wasn't in charge at the time? — The question was asked with a noticeable shyness, as if we were discussing female charms.

— Two, because one allowed it to be done to the heir of a pure-blooded aristocratic family, and the other didn't bother to ask and correct it. — Seeing the doubt and disbelief on the teenager's face as Black continues his thought process, I decide to explain further. — Harry, you just don't understand the role of the aristocracy in society.

Let the poor, uneducated, envious people scream all they want, but you should know that when the Crown honors a person or family with an inherited title, those people are instantly elevated above everyone else.

 To oversimplify, the aristocracy are the banks on which the river of state flows, and it is up to the ruler to decide exactly where those "banks" point. By placing Sirius in Azkaban without trial..,

...the Ministry has expressed doubt and open protest to all aristocrats. In short, it's utter arbitrariness. — I take a few sips of juice. — Not to mention the fact that most of the money and connections with other countries are in the hands of the generals. That is, if they wanted, the aristocracy and influential families could organize a shortage of goods, unemployment, even famine in the country — they could do it. Why they didn't, I don't understand. — I'll have to give the boy a little book on the subject, so he'll know who he really is. — By the way, Mr. Black.

— Call me 'Sirius' and let's use the word 'you', shall we? — The man grimaced slightly.

— Okay. Sirius, you are the last of the older branch of the Black family, the heir, the head. If you're acquitted, what are your plans for the inheritance and the Black family in general?

— I haven't really given it much thought. — The Animagus shrugged nonchalantly. — I'll probably get cleaned up first. Then you can go to a warm place... — the man said thoughtfully, slowly looking up. — And as for the Black Family... who needs it, right? — I could barely keep my face from choking at what I heard. — All those old rituals... — he waved his hand in the air, expressing indifference and even irony. — It's all nonsense.

— What about leaving heirs?

— What kind of father am I? — The Animagus grinned, picking up a cake. — I'm leaving everything to my godson.

— I see. — I've already made up my mind. — But you should know that Harry grew up in the worst of circumstances and has never seen the normal involvement and care of his elders, including you. — I have a very unhappy look on my face, but I continue. — You are the last person who can take care of him, tell him about his parents, teach him what he needs. Nobody else cares about Harry but you, do you realize that?

— What about the headmaster? And Lunatic? — asks a confused Black, looking somehow immature.

— From what I've heard, Headmaster Dumbledore sees your godson as just another student at his school. Yes, with a difficult fate, but it's worth pointing out that some of the boy's difficulties are the Headmaster's fault.

— Hey! Headmaster Dumbledore did no such thing! — The teenager's indignation was loud and passionate, to which I merely raised an ironic eyebrow.

— You didn't even know you had magic until you got your letter from Hogwarts. You have never participated in any of the required rituals. You have no knowledge of the obligatory etiquette of the magical world, nor do you know its history. You don't know the history of your family either, and I'm not even talking about the mandatory training. And yet it was Dumbledore who told everyone that he had hidden you in a safe place. Isn't that enough for you? Not enough. Good. Why did the headmaster bring the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts the year you entered? And don't give me that crap about Flamel not being able to protect his property! He's over six hundred years old, you can build a personal castle no worse than Hogwarts in that amount of time and no one will get in!

Think about it, can't an adult, educated scientist and specialist tell the difference between petrification and the nerve paralyzing poison of Acromantulas? You don't die from a spider's look, and Myrtle saw the eyes, the snake eyes. — When I see the literally stunned eyes of both of them, I grin. — The headmaster is an experienced politician and a cunning man. As a politician, he always has a plan for everything. So there's only one question, and it's about everything he's done, from you, Harry, growing up as a Muggle, to not wanting to help Sirius. And the question is, what does he get out of it?