HP: Spirit Talker

I returned to Dunois thoughtfully, considering how to approach the artifact case. I didn't have to work with the doll; it was automated. The room, the same room, also contains a special nutrient environment for plants and a heightened background of magic. The metal skeleton and additional energy conduits made of silver covered with special enamel have already been assembled, and now the doll is being fleshed out, which is not a quick process.

According to calculations, it can take from one and a half to four months. That's why I decided to do other things. I walked slowly through the garden to the villa, thinking, and Paul caught up with me at the house. I'd heard his footsteps for the last three minutes, even though he tried to sneak up on me.

— Hi! — I got a light tap on my shoulder and I jerked a little, like I was scared, yeah. — What's on your mind?

— Huh? — I looked at the blooming guy and turned away again. — I had an idea for an artifact, but the Master told me about...

— Yeah, yeah, I know, — I was interrupted rather unceremoniously. — Mentor's right and all that. So what kind of artifact?

— Protective.

— Hmm. — The guy was silent for a few seconds, looking at me with a strange expression. — Just so you know, there have been many different artifacts of this kind for a long time. The most common ones use the standard Protego, deploying a shield in the direction of the threat or a protective cocoon.

Listening to the guy, I felt myself start to smile: it seems the solution has been found.

— Hey, do you want to join?

— What are the conditions? — I got a very uninterested look.

— Development for personal use only.

— Families.

— Pedigrees. — I correct. — We'll draw up a magical contract that prohibits the distribution of development on the side, only for the needs of the specified generic participants. How about that? Does it work? — I hold out my hand.

— It's good. — And we shook hands, and a few days later we officially signed the contract, in which Angelica also participates, being a very clever mathematician, i.e. she is good at arithmetic and numerology. — Okay, now on to more important things. In three hours, you, me and the girls are going to Schrodinger's for a "get-together". Rudolph and Alexandra do this from time to time. No refusals accepted. — The guy misinterpreted my facial expression.

— I don't mind. — I answer carefully. — Are they by any chance descendants of Erwin Schrödinger, the Austrian physicist who created the theory of the same name?

— Oh! — the guy smiled. — Have you heard the joke of your esteemed grandfather?

— The joke?

— Well, yes. Erwin Schrödinger is a master of spatial magic, transfiguration and necromancy. The old man likes to joke, so he often entertained the Muggle scientists with various jokes about cats, "bottomless" boxes, and he also likes jokes about disappearing objects.... — The guy is a bit sad. — and doesn't always return the object of the joke to its owner.

— Wait a minute, it hit me. — So he's alive?

— Well, yeah. — Paul shrugged. — At his hundred years of age, what kind of death is that? Especially since he's a necromancer.

— Isn't that art forbidden?

— For the general public. You can get a license and work for the World Conference — then there's no problem.

— I see.

The "sit-downs" turned out to be just sit-downs: a dozen or three or four young men and women gathered in the large hall of the mansion, arranged in a homely manner. Gifted young people socialized, drank drinks, including low-alcohol drinks, played board games like chess and cards, and danced. In short, I liked it. I did not see the famous "physicist", but I was satisfied with his grandchildren, who also turned out to be jokers and trolls.

I especially liked Alexandra's joke about the prospects of breeding special postal parrots that will deliver letters orally.

The girl with the impenetrable look spent the whole evening proving all the advantages of her idea, and by the end of the evening many people had gotten into it.

Her older brother suggested to create underground streets and cities by specially trained garden gnomes, they dig the ground well. In short, I returned from the evening in a good mood, except for a red-haired witch who stayed with me all evening.

I couldn't be rude, and any attempts to get away from her were skillfully thwarted. Paul, the bastard, just grinned and disappeared into the crowd as soon as I tried to ask for help. But everything went well.

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