HP: Spirit Talker

The Burrow is an iconic place, you could say, almost like Hogwarts or Gringotts. Well, for fans of the world I live in now. I was actually interested in learning more about this house. That's not to say that I would send any of my people in that direction, not at all. But since I had the chance, I decided to show up at The Burrow and see for myself, because I had heard too many opinions about the house, including the theory that demonic rituals were being performed there.

When we got to the right place (Potter had a wand with him, so I could see the open points of the passage), we saw a tall, thin building. Neville was curious too, not as curious as I was, but the boy took his time.

There were no pigs/chickens/demons running around the yard, no knee-deep manure, just a decent cobblestone path from the street to the house. There was no fence, by the way, but the owners had put up a lot of charms: three anti-Muggle circuits of averting eyes, diverting attention, scaring away; three levels of signal charms, two powerful and scanning, and one circuit of a thin "web", very inconspicuous; I didn't find any astral or spiritual signals, but about two meters from the boundary inside the property were runic anchors of some kind of protection.

I can't say much without closer inspection, but the anchors are fully energized. Well, another myth, that the Weasleys are idiots, and idiots in general, has been debunked. And they weren't demonologists or demon worshippers — I would have sensed that immediately — the ground would have told me, and ghosts stay away from places like this, but here they were, mostly earth ghosts, but that was an indicator.

We entered the area and walked slowly towards a large and somewhat strange house, steeped in magic. The signal pulse was gone from all three signal circuits. We didn't have to knock; a short, plump woman with lush red hair opened the door right in front of us. Minus one more myth: Molly Weasley is not a "piggy" covered head to toe in .... stuff. She's an ordinary housewife in homemade clothes.

— Good evening. — Slight half bow. — My name is Sora Hoshino, and this is Neville Longbottom. — The boy nodded.

— Of course, boys, come in. — The woman smiled in welcome and stepped aside to make way, but I saw recognition in her eyes. — My name is Molly Weasley. — By the way, there were some unfamiliar charms on the doorstep, cleaning my shoes and 'probing' along the edges of my pants. That's cool, I've never seen that before.

But the air barrier for heat preservation is quite familiar to me, and what's more, I've implemented this structure into the control crystal, so now my house will set and activate these webs when needed. — You're just in time, we're about to eat. Come on in.

And quickly disappeared around the next corner, calling to the household to gather for dinner. Minus one more myth: the Weasley house is quite clean, a mess, yes, but it's not a pigsty, far from it. In fact, it's quite comfortable. Of course, there are no decorative moldings, no gilding, no knight's armor, no open flames from torches.

The Burrow has a different, more "homey" feel. Older but good furniture, obviously repaired and strengthened by magic, carpeted floors, bright light from enchanted lamps, soft music from the radio, the sound of children's voices, the pleasant smell of home-cooked food.

If you have such an experience, think back to a trip to the country to visit relatives (not pigs) and get a rough picture of that family and their home. It's a nice house, warm. I mean warm in the sense that it's more pleasant to be in than the expensive Malfoy palace, simply because it feels like a human dwelling, not a museum you've come to look at.

The Burrow's wide and rather spacious living room, separated from the kitchen by a short junction of corridors and stairs, was where most of the Weasley family was now gathered. That's where we went.

The head of the house was the first to find us, of course, since the security charms were attached to the couple while the teenagers were discussing something loudly. With slight gray touches in his sparse red hair, a slightly tired but quite friendly face, a newspaper in his hands, the man rose from the armchair of "cheerful" colors.

— Oh, the guests have arrived! — the man said with a welcoming smile. From his words, the rest of the people present also paid attention to us.

— Good evening! I replied with a friendly smile and shook his outstretched hand, followed by Neville.

— You must be Sora and Neville, right? — I nodded. — The kids told me about you, Sora, may I call you that?

— Sure, no problem. — We sat down on the empty seats of the couches.

— Then you can just call me Arthur, okay? — and without waiting for an answer and without giving his children a chance to speak, he continued. — The children said you spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, didn't they? — Judging by the gleam in the man's eyes, it would be easier to answer that.

— That's true. The thing is, in Japan, Muggles and Muggles are not separated like in Britain, we interact within certain limits in everyday life, it often happens that Muggles are unable to cure some disease, and then we help. Of course, there are restrictions and all sorts of conventions, but the Japanese know how to be grateful for help, so if a "wizard" or "witch" or priest in the temple has helped, people will thank and pray to Kami, Kami being such local gods of lands, forests, mountains. — I decided to explain the details, by the way, even Molly was standing in the doorway listening to me.

— Also, the system of clans and lords is still strong in Japan, so people know that they can always count on the help and support of those on whose land they live and work. Clans and individual magical clans provide protection from danger, fertility of the land, and treatment of the people, and in return receive taxes from their wards. Everything is fair and clear.

— I don't believe it, — the lady of the house said, looking at her husband. — Our aristocratic families are not like that. — The woman frowned and looked at my face. — They only care about personal interests, power, old prejudices....

— I'm not saying that everything is perfect in Japan. — I shrug my shoulders. — Wherever there are people, there are power struggles, and often the ruling clans forget their duties and think they have only privileges. It's like that everywhere. It's worse in some places and better in others. In the United States, for example, ordinary people have a good life, and I'm talking about mages, too, but it's only "good" as long as you live quietly and obediently.

— It can't be like that! — Ron exclaimed as his parents looked at each other glumly. — I read it in the Prophet! The United States is the most advanced country in the world!

— And it's true. — I grinned as I saw the confusion on the faces of Ron, Harry, Ginny and the twins.

— But you just... — The redheaded chess player spoke incomprehensibly. By the way, he's really good at chess, and he's great at counting, he's just lazy and insecure.

— The USA, as a magical state, really is the most progressive magical society in the world. — I pause for a moment. — But only in terms of the development of the magical sciences. Which, by the way, are almost never widely available. And you can't become a Master there like you can in Europe.

— Why? — George asked.

— Control. Total control over everyone and everything. Only a mage who is completely loyal to the authorities can be the possessor of knowledge and a significant position in society. Otherwise, even if you manage to learn, you won't get a diploma or a job, no matter how hard you try. — I laugh. — I tried it myself, but I barely got away.

— Okay, — Molly clapped her hands together, ending the strange conversation. — Everyone to the table!

I didn't have to ask anyone twice, and I held back a chuckle, for I was planning an insidious plot. And I would remain silent until the very last moment. When everyone was seated at the table, almost everyone, for the hostess was still at the stove and the others were already eating, I spoke.

— Ron, Harry, you shouldn't be eating. — My quiet, calm voice attracted attention again.

— Why not? — Ron reacted immediately, but Neville seemed to have guessed right from the start.

— We can only have something light, like tea and a sandwich or a cookie.

— Why not?!

— The portal. — Neville said uncertainly and quietly, but they heard him. The twins giggled, Ginny smiled.

— Ron, you remember our trip to Egypt, don't you? — The boy's mother asked sternly. He frowned and remembered honestly for a few seconds, then grimaced sharply and put down the spoon he had already picked up. Seeing Potter's incomprehension, Arthur decided to explain.

— Harry, do you remember when we went to the Quidditch championship? — The boy nodded. — It was an unpleasant experience, wasn't it? Well, international portals only differ in the length of the journey, the comfort is the same. — The boy quickly realized what was going on, but sighed heavily. Just for us, Molly quickly organized tea and simple cookies.

***

— I hope you'll be able to have a proper meal there? Or do you want me to pack you one? — The woman asked sincerely.

— No need. — I smile at her concern. — My friends have booked us rooms in a nice hotel in the magical part of Paris. As they told me, there is an excellent restaurant with a wide variety of menus for every taste, you can eat at any time of the day or night. — Ron's face almost tore up from his satisfied smile.

— Okay, then. — Molly nodded, satisfied with the answer. — Are the rooms big? Maybe you could take Ginny? — He'd known something like this would happen: the Weasleys were simple people, so they were cheeky.

— The hotels are full for the holidays, — I sip my tea and continue. — So there's no chance of getting another room. In fact, there are large apartments for rent — it's for a family or a group of friends to be together, or for the owner and servants to be close by. In our case, I booked a room for the number of guys, so it was a three-room apartment with a living room, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. I don't think Ginny would want to share a room with her brother for ten days. — I deliberately left out the option of throwing Ron out on the living room couch, but the others didn't notice.

— Where are you going to live? And there'll be security, hmm? — Arthur asked, munching on an appetizing cookie.

— There's a room next door for the Aurors. I'll stay with friends. — Or Master Boisselier's, I haven't decided yet.

— Ginny, maybe … — Molly began, but the girl shook her head vigorously. — Well, whatever you want.

I guess I wasn't the only one breathing a sigh of relief. I had nothing against her, for she was a normal girl of her age, not some crazy maniac cursing those who had taken advantage of her. But she'll be a problem for my program, and every girl who comes with us will be a problem. I have my own plans for Tonks, even if they're not that big: I just want to watch her, and she's an adult.

About thirty minutes later, when dinner was over and we'd moved into the living room with tea (I'd given Molly a box of Muggle sweets and cookies), the Aurors arrived. While the twins whispered to Ron and Harry and Neville relaxed in the quiet domestic atmosphere, I met our escorts. Three men, between twenty-five and thirty years old, and a girl in her early twenties (all Britons look older than their age).

The men's faces were ordinary, not outstanding, and judging by their movements they were all well trained, and with my perception I found that each of them had a good set of protective amulets, and Nymphadora, emphatically, "Tonks!", had an artifact around her neck. A "thoroughbred" artifact. The girl herself was of average height, average figure (which was not bad for the locals, though she was a metamorph, so maybe she had deliberately altered her figure to fit the criteria of a fighter?), with the face of a movie actress and purple hair.

Cheerful, a bit boisterous, but with a sharp eye and precise movements. Poor coordination, stumbling and the like were out of the question. A fighter, trained, experienced, but not very much. Quite a prospect.

Half an hour later, everyone grabbed the rope, and at exactly nine o'clock in the evening, the portal went off, taking the whole group to Paris.