HP: Spirit Talker

From the very first day, I was under a lot of pressure. Every dean and faculty member demanded proof of knowledge, except for the ghost historian, who was indifferent.

My dean and Mr. You-All-Dirt were particularly vicious. Pomona Sprout turned out to be a wonderfully kind woman, with whom we managed to come to a normal arrangement: she would postpone the test, and I would move the Chinese seaweed cultivation to the Dean of Hufflepuff's personal experimental greenhouses. The woman said she had read about the Red Chinese Bloodsucker algae, but had never had to work with it.

Yes, and in general, a lot of Asian plants, mushrooms and algae unfortunately don't make it all the way to England — they're intercepted much earlier, even the most available seeds are a huge rarity, sometimes, very rarely, ingredients slip through. Filius Flitwick, Dean of Ravenclaw, also seemed to be a normal wizard, though more of a wizard.

He didn't push theory like McGonagall or Snape, but he and I worked seriously for a whole week after class, often getting carried away, which caused me to cut back on sleep and take some potions. Luckily, Baa-san had time to deliver a small batch of the first mushrooms grown. I thought about using Baa-san as a life magic teacher for Kiriko, but that's for later, let the mind work with the mushrooms.

I couldn't make friends, or at least get to know my classmates — the schedule was too busy. In the middle of the second week, I had to ask the dean to let me go to the school gates in the evening, when it was already dark.

The thing was, after the first four, there were more orders for the Cups, so after hiring some extra guards, Anthony Hilliard and Remus Lupin arrived at the school gates to carry the artifacts. Dumbledore, for some far-fetched reason, wouldn't allow the fireplace to be moved, nor would he let anyone in, not even Lupin. Even though it was against the contract, I didn't want to create conflict over such a small thing.

No one knows that Anthony's contract with me is quite strict, so I gave him a prototype of a crystal wand with a small storage device made of artificial diamond. About a dozen Awadas, which isn't bad. Especially since my wand has no tracking device, it will be hidden in an inconspicuous flat ring on the man's prosthesis, so if anything happens, no one will be able to prove his guilt, even with witnesses. 

—You can't throw an Avada without a wand, and where is it? I don't have it. Then what is it? A glitch. That's it. That's the end of it. If anything, I consulted my lawyer about it, who, by the way, is still in court.

The fake groom turned out to be a psycho, just like in the movie, and his eye only added to the picture. I'm not in a hurry to get to him yet. I gave him a loan, had a practice fight in front of witnesses, which I lost, and parted ways. I lost fairly, because I'm used to fighting with a blade, seals, and other magic, and I'm just getting used to the wand. I don't even touch trophy wands. The one time I tried it, I had to stop myself from swinging for the kill.

Snape deserves special mention. I don't know about "backstabbing" and "true intentions," but the man is really unpleasant. It feels like he's always constipated and indigestible, which makes him rude, sarcastic, and bullying to everyone around him. Let me be very subtle and nice, but, man, he really oppresses children, deliberately lowers their self-esteem, nurtures complexes and phobias. After two weeks of incessant sarcastic comments about Gryffindors, endless bile towards Potter, my hands were itching for it.

This natural goat was really horny, saying that I was doing everything wrong, that my training with the French Potions Master was a mistake and a lie, and that I was really a fraud because I was in the "brave but stupid" section.

 I heard this when I ignored the words of this victim of eternal heartburn and brewed a potion according to Madame Boisselier's methods, and I got everything right. This "gentleman" burst into a speech of wounded pride, lavishing a generous amount of vulgar insults. Significantly, only five Slytherins smiled, while the rest frowned unhappily. I don't think it's necessary to list them.

 I was about to do something stupid when a dark-haired classmate with the surname 'Patil' stopped me. Whispering, the girl literally begged me to control myself, stroking the skin of my clenched, white-knuckled fist.

After class, the girl led me by the hand into one of the empty classrooms where her twin sister was waiting for us. I spent the next hour drinking herbal tea from Padma's thermos (remember the potion-protecting artifacts?) and explaining the realities of English folk chauvinism in two voices.

Not that I hadn't heard of it, but when I encountered it in person, I didn't recognize this strange beast. The twins told me a lot of interesting life stories, purely English.

When I asked them why they cared so much about a stranger, a human being, Padma grinned snidely and Parvati blushed, but then the first one replied that foreigners are really difficult in England, so you have to help each other.

I agree with her, more than that, I know the value of that kind of help, so I remembered my debt. The next class we had was a history class, which was not too bad to skip, which the three of us did without interrupting the class.

The Patil twins can't be called "dazzling beauties," but they are beautiful, and their body language, their grace even in everyday life, is truly mesmerizing. I wonder if it's natural or if someone taught it to them.

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