HP: Spirit Talker

There was silence in the tent for a while. Harry Potter was constantly changing his face, obviously thinking about the past with the correction of my words. Sirius Black kept up with him, except that I had already decided what I was going to do, and what followed was just a possible bonus.

— Good! — Sirius ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair, jumped to his feet and began pacing excitedly around the living room. — All right! — He almost shouted, not even trying to contain his feelings and emotions. — What are we going to do now? I'm a criminal! A fugitive! I'll be handed over to the Dementors if I show my face in public! — He stopped and stared at me with blue eyes.

— I think you should get your emotions in order first: you're hysterical. What kind of example are you setting for your godson? Well done. — I'm commenting on his return to the chair. — Next. You need to eat and heal, get a haircut, change your clothes. I can help you with that. I can even make you a new wand. — Seeing the shocked expression on their faces, I involuntarily rolled my eyes: Why, I wondered, was I openly wearing the rings of an artifacting and potions student? — True, I only have part of a dragon, Thestral and Pegasus for my core, I can't get to unicorns.

This is what I've collected in front of witnesses, the list is actually very extensive. Very. But I'm not going to give myself away the first time I see you, am I? Although, it was enough to impress those two idiots once again. No, what kind of wizards? I won't call them wizards — they don't deserve it! After a moment of self-control, the Animagus spoke.

— I don't see why you have to help me. — Black frowned. — Is it out of the goodness of your heart?

— Pfft! Naive British boy! — A crooked grin appeared on his face. — When in this world did you ever get something for nothing? You don't have to answer that, — I hurry to stop the flow. — It's a philosophical question. We'll agree on a price, don't worry, I won't leave you pantsless. — Yeah, I'll take anything but those, hehehe. — But I'm telling you, if you don't obey Dumbledore's orders, you'll be relatively neutral, meaning you won't tip the political scales in anyone's favor by using Harry Potter to do so. — Seeing them both tense up and grimace, I continued.

— Yes, if you're blind and don't see the obvious, then I'll tell you a terrible secret: Even now, the name Harry Potter is increasingly associated with the name of the headmaster of Hogwarts, that is, the public is led to believe that he is the mentor of our bespectacled boy. And, mind you, the old man hasn't even lifted a finger — he's just kept a meaningful silence on certain questions — and that's enough for many people.

— I don't understand, — Black said slowly. — What was so wrong with Dumbledore?

— First he tried to trick me into getting a subordinate farm on Hogwarts land that I wanted to mortgage for myself. Then he organized a court hearing to get 'legal' — I emphasized the word with a gesture. — custody of me to seize money and the latest unique developments. And one last time, he demanded that I make a fool of myself in front of British high society. That's enough to make me wish a man ill. — I shrug.

I hope it's enough to shake the old man's infallible image in their minds. I don't feel comfortable with a man like Albus Dumbledore having so much power and discretion. Now let him turn around!

— So, uh, where do we start? — The Animagus spoke in a confused and lost voice.

— To treat, one must first know the diagnosis. — I get up from the table and take a quick look at the good walnut sideboard with the nice dishes, as well as the upholstered corner and coffee table. — So now I am going to create a ritual circle with the help of which we will find out what you, the sick one, need to be treated for.

— Are you a medical man? — Black asked in surprise, looking at the student rings on his gloves.

— No, I'm a ritualist and a bit of a martial artist... ....

— Yeah, right! — Black grinned broadly. — But we taught Severus how to fight!

— I doubt Snape learned what I saw from you, but let him.

I ignore the looks between them. I leave the tent and get to work. A full diagnostic cycle is a serious matter and I can't afford to be sloppy, so I had to refuse help from anyone else. To be precise, I didn't let anyone draw lines and fill in grooves with chalk, but I didn't leave them idle either, so I had them bring eight flat stones for the tops of the octagon.

The whole thing took an hour. As I finished burning the hieroglyphs on the flat stones, a large, almost entirely black bird flew in with a letter from Lucius Malfoy. His Lordship had given me the go-ahead to start work on the greenhouses, as there had been a meeting of the Board of Trustees today, at which I had been unanimously given the go-ahead.

Malfoy also wrote that he'd be at the Ministry tomorrow to talk to Fudge about tax breaks for this business, but he advised me not to get my hopes up. Tony had already bought people at all the Ministry's strategic points, so it would be quick and easy to find out how much of my taxes would be lost in transit and whose fault it was. I gave the nimble bird a quick glance and then went back to work.

Sirius lay down on the blanket in the center of the figure, and I waved my wand to feed the construct's activation points. The hieroglyphs on the stones lit up, each in its own color and hue, the lines filled with an even light blue glow.

This ritual does not require large amounts of magical energy, so it is very difficult to trace, especially since the "color" of the ritual is frankly "light," so that artifact finders in the DMLE will not detect anything.

The ritual itself is a kind of decoder, as it receives information through deep scanning of the aura and external energy, and converts the data into a digestible form: diagrams, numbers, and inscriptions appear on eight sheets of paper. And, of course, Sirius was put to sleep for this ritual, and at a certain point Harry went to the tent to get some juice, because I was thirsty, and I cannot be distracted.

In the few minutes it took the guy to go to the tent, I managed to do the intended thing. And no, no poisons/curses/amputations or anything like that! I'll treat and help Sirius Orion Black honestly, and in return he'll do a few things that aren't too difficult for him, and forgive me for "an innocent joke". And that was it.

When the diagnosis was done, I woke up Tramp and we went back to the tent. I gave the man a camouflage amulet, an anti-Muggle charm amulet, two full sets of clothes from the military store, food for the first time, some money that could be used together with the camouflage amulet, or just to steal something from the Muggles.

The last items were a potion kit with instructions for use, a Muggle tent with the necessary equipment for living outdoors, and an order to wait, because in three or four days Hedwig would bring him a new wand, for which he'd gotten Black's blood.

I had to read in silence for another hour until they were more or less done talking, but I didn't want it to drag on too long. That was the end of it. By the way, no matter what Sirius was looking at, I didn't even think about giving him my tent. And the potions I'd been given were a standard set of potions to be taken to promote health, gain weight, eliminate toxins and stop inflammation.

Nothing special. I will personally translate the information into English and then send it all to the head doctor of St. Mungo — let this experienced man develop a course of treatment.

Oh, how many things to do, how many worries, and, characteristically, all important.