HP: Spirit Talker

Traveling through a portal is as commonplace in the magical part of the world as flying on hippogriffs, broomsticks, carpets, and other "damn things". The Dunois family, most of them, had gone home to their ancestral mansion in Paris, or rather to the garden, to a special platform with conspicuous statues of dark fairies.

No one made any unnecessary noise, no running and shouting — the family simply returned home from the cottage. A house-elf appeared in front of Ludovic Dunois, in "maidenhood" Lavoine, and immediately bowed low.

— Welcome home, Master, young Master!

— Hello Dur. — The father of the family came from a simple family, so he treated the house elves equally. — Are Lucy and Laura home?

— Yes, — the elf nodded and bowed, shaking his long ears. — The hostesses are in the rose garden with a guest.

— Hmm? What guest? — Angelica, the first child of the family and a student of the Potions Guild, jumped into the conversation.

— A young artist from the East is painting a picture, and the hostesses are watching.

— Ah, what a nuisance, my dear Victor! — said the youngest daughter, Milena, panting. — Now we have to collect dirt on the new father!

— Milena! — replied her twin brother with no less pity. — Don't be so cruel to our old dad! You can't say things like that to his face!

— Victor!....

It is not known what the youngest daughter wanted to say and what her twin could answer, but the two plagues were cut off by a double slap from her older sister. The girl was born with a hot temper, and she never tolerated the sarcasm of the younger ones. When she grew up, Angelique no longer held back, and despite the protection of her mother or father, she regularly besieged the younger ones. Louis himself just raised his eyes to the sky as if to ask — why?

The eldest son, Paul, now in his final year at Beauxbatons, just grinned at the twins' disgruntled, tanned faces and followed his father. The boy would be celebrating his seventeenth birthday the next day, and he was trying to be more mature, more reserved, so that he could at least be supportive of his father, who was getting his nerves rattled by two thirteen-year-old ulcers. In a few minutes, the whole family was there.

Loud greetings, new jokes from the two ulcers, Angelica's complaints about everything in the world, and her father's warm smile as he watched the commotion around the head of the family. And only two boys did not participate in this action. Paul approached the Asian and held out his hand.

— Paul Dunois.

— Sora Hoshino.

Paul was surprised that the guest wore gloves, as many people in the magical world no longer wore such an important part of their wardrobe. Many potions can penetrate the skin, many artifacts need only a light touch to work.

— I see you're wearing gloves? — Paul decided to go straight to "you".

— As do you. — The Asian grinned and answered in simple French, surprising the boy.

— Where are you from? — Paul asked, looking at his family.

— Japan.

— When did you learn the language?

— I have a gift for languages. — He grinned, picked up a glass of juice from his desk and took a sip. — Besides, it's easier to solve some problems in the magical world, don't you think?

— You can't argue with that. — Paul smiled softly at his mother, noticing her wry look. — It's a shame so many people forget that.

— Magic is meant to be lived and breathed! How can you forget that? — The sincere surprise of the Japanese made the boy believe the words of the guest and also guess that he was not talking to a Muggleborn or even a pureblood up to the fifth or sixth generation. It was very likely that this wizard came from an old family with traditions and a powerful gift, for thanks to his good sensitivity, Paul felt the pressure of a powerful force in this man.

— Sometimes, after many years of study in the Beauxbatons, wizards tie their shoelaces by hand or clean stains on their clothes... — he shook his head with feigned sadness. — shook his head sadly.

— Really? — The Japanese even turned to him, looked into his eyes in surprise, obviously noticing the confirmation there, and shook his head as well. — Why do they need magic then? To pick up girls with cheap tricks?

— I don't know. — Paul shrugged indifferently. — Listen, Sora, right? — After a nod, the boy continued. — This weekend, we're having a party to celebrate my coming of age, and I'd like to invite you. — Without turning his head, Paul raised his hand to waist height with open palm.

— It's coming. — He grinned, slapped his hand lightly and gave it a manly squeeze. — I might be too late... — Sora said thoughtfully. — Well, you know, it's a long way to go: transportation problems, traffic jams, all that. — The guy twisted his hand with a completely inscrutable look.

— In that case, — Paul's lips trembled as he tried to hold back a smile. — don't count on the prettiest girls — they're mine.

— Hmmmmm... — The Japanese slowly turned to Paul and studied him with narrowed eyes of an unusual color. — If so, I hope there will be some good liquor to adorn the rest of us. — Answered the guest's unasked question.

— It won't help... — a girl's voice came from the side in a sad tone. — Our brother is very kind and invites even the ugliest girls to his parties. — It was Milena.

— And he's also very cunning. — added a boy's voice. — He makes himself look better than he really is, it's a great way to seduce silly girls, — he said.

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