HP: Spirit Talker

POV Amelia Susan Bones

— What's that supposed to mean!!! — The man narrowed his eyes unfriendly. — Why did you authorize this?

— Why wouldn't I? — The woman replied, raising an eyebrow in surprise. — All procedures have been followed, parental consent is in place, and the Aurors are with the children to protect them. I believe everything is within the law.

— Harry Potter's guardian hasn't given his consent! — Scrimgeour exploded. — You had no right to authorize him to cross the border!

— Allow me, I have in my hand the written permission of Potter's godfather, as well as his guardians, with whom the boy has lived for years. Which guardians are you referring to?

— Harry Potter's magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore! And he came to me when the boy went missing!

— You say the strangest things, Mr. Scrimgeour. — Amelia scrutinized the DMLE warden with her piercing gaze. — According to numerous reports, Mr. Dumbledore is in no way involved in the boy's life — that's one thing. And secondly, the boy hadn't disappeared, he'd left quite normally for the Weasley family, from where the group of teenagers and their accompanying Aurors had been transported to Paris through an official portal at a fixed time: nine o'clock on the dot. And why did Dumbledore contact you and not me?

— We met by chance, and he told me literally off the cuff. You know he's busy with the commission that came in... .... — Rufus went on and on about it.

— I'm not interested in Dumbledore's business, I don't follow him. — Bones, who had been playing her game successfully but cautiously for a long time now, said ironically. — However, if you wish, you can inform your friend of the full legality of this group of teenagers' departure, and I have enough to do. — The woman glanced meaningfully at the piles of documents on her desk and the auxiliary one by the window. — Though I can't help but notice the strangeness of Dumbledore... ....

— What are you talking about? — Rufus Scrimgeour furrowed his brow in displeasure, catching his wand as he started to walk away.

— He's very busy with politics, the Wizengamot, the ICW, but he also demands Mr. Potter. Wouldn't it have been better to appoint someone else as official guardian, someone with more time to fulfill the duties he has taken on? — As if thinking aloud, the woman said, turning away from the window but keeping an eye on the future boss.

— It's none of your business. — The man said sharply, moving toward the door. — Let the custody department think about it. — The door slammed loudly.

Amelia shifted her gaze to the city at night. Yes, she was well aware of the uproar that had broken out in all departments of the Ministry because of the commission that had arrived. In fact, no checks had been made yet, and the wizards were already running around in a frenzy.

But it's for the best, because thanks to them, her people have found the thread connecting the Ministry (specific identities have not yet been established), Knockturn Alley, and the smuggling of illegal substances through it.

They caught two bribe-takers in the act, and also unexpectedly discovered an underground association of officials with quite recognizably extreme radical views, with Dolores Umbridge at its core.

This discovery came as a real shock to Amelia, for outwardly this unpleasant woman was quite understandable to those around her — she disliked magical creatures and aristocrats, and was desperately jealous of the latter. In fact, it turns out that she collaborates with the most famous radicals. And that in itself is extremely dangerous.

On the other side of the "former" Eaters and those who sympathized with them, there was a dense network stretching from Hogwarts. Amelia Bones had never been naive, so she wasn't surprised, except by the extent of Dumbledore's influence on politics. However, she was extremely unhappy that this, let it be "faction", was responsible for the recent reduction in law enforcement.

Investigations were still ongoing, including the newly discovered case of Sirius Black, but even now, if any stranger got wind of her affairs, she would simply be 'leaked'. And her niece would be left all alone. Maybe we should talk to a Japanese after the holidays.

He's somehow neutral and also able to talk, and in exchange for certain information he can pay well — just enough to hire a couple or three foreign mercenaries to protect Susie. Yes, that was an idea the woman decided to think about very carefully...

***

POV Elizabeth

And in Scotland, in a new house, completely untypical for the architecture of the area, a blonde girl clutched her lover's letter in her fist and hissed like a seasoned cobra. That bastard had gone off to have fun and left her with her "mother" to build bridges! Bastard! She's going to turn gray because of that narrow-eyed witch! And there's nothing she can do, if she wants to stay in this family, she has to have at least a minimal contact with Junko... ....

She's going to talk to that young man! Oh, he'll be sorry he left her with that beast!

***

POV Henry Greengrass

Henry Greengrass sat on the French sofa, admiring his wife. Over the years, Sueleen had not changed at all.... no, not exactly, his wife had only become more beautiful, and in the last few days she had become even more beautiful, although it would seem that she had become even more beautiful.

 But no, Suelyn was literally exploding with vitality, beauty, and crazy sexuality. From a single sly look over her shoulder, a sly, barely perceptible smile on the man's face, a flame of passion was ignited, and the spouses immediately put things aside for .... for as long as they wanted, and they wanted often and a lot.

At the moment they were in one of the living rooms of the "home" wing, where the atmosphere was more homely and warm, and the time was just "after the sweet". The woman's graceful, lithe figure was accentuated by a light blue knee-length dress with open shoulders and nothing underneath.

The Greengrasses were among the few who thought it foolish to keep the house cool or freezing just because "it was the custom," so they always kept the temperature at a comfortable level with charms to keep the mistress from freezing in her summer dress. At the moment, Suelyn was choosing shoes to attend the traditional ball in honor of the end of the year.

— So, what do you think of all this? — Henry leaned back on the sofa and twirled his paintbrush in the air.

— I don't know, — the woman studied her reflection in the large mirror. — I think it's better to go with the previous one. These are some... — Sueleen twirled her paintbrush in the air.

The man laughed and covered his eyes. But after a few seconds, he touched the forearm where the Unbreakable Vow had settled. Or rather, its mark, its embodiment.

— I didn't mean your shoes. — said the man, still smiling.

— Hm? — His wife looked at him through the mirror. — You mean the daughters? — Henry nodded, not taking his eyes off his wife. — What is there to think about when everything is settled?

— Well, you're giving your daughters to the harem... — the man raised an eyebrow.

— Ah, — Suellen waved her hand. — If Asti had objected, she would have said so, but it was Daphne's fault, so let her pay for it. She's a big girl and needs to keep her mouth shut. — The woman turned and swayed her slender legs, standing up more effectively. — ... in every way. — she finished and walked over to a nice chair with a nice pile of shoeboxes on it.

— It's still a little... — Henry hesitated, keeping his eyes on his wife.

— You're being too soft on Daphne, darling. — The woman replied, taking off her open shoes and returning them to one of the boxes. — I told you she would cry for the rod, but you were sorry, so let her be raised differently. Besides, if anyone else finds out about her preferences, there will be a scandal, you know. — The man nodded, fully aware of the situation, but his fatherly feelings wouldn't subside. — We won't give her to werewolves, we won't give her to a werewolf, but she'll be happy. The boy took her problem in stride and promised to help her break the curse. ....

— There are a lot of people like that who only promise... — Henry frowned and turned away from the window.

— Yes, — Suellen agreed, wiggling the toes of her new foot, which were covered with a fine, beautiful pattern. — A great deal. Only the boy kept his word. — The woman cast a mischievous glance at her husband, who pretended not to look at her sideways.

— Yes, he was. — Henry admitted it. — But it broke Malfoy's game, and the plans would have to be reevaluated. Lucius wasn't happy.

— Forget Malfoy, or didn't you listen to what Sora told you? Lucius should be kissing the ground, now that the boy has shed his stigma, and working for the good of his suzerain, not trying to intrigue around him. — Suellen replied, — I've seen Lucius, I've seen him.

— I've seen Lucius, where the mark was, all the flesh has come off, almost to the bone, and you say thank you... — Henry grinned, having been to the Malfoys' house after his brief encounter with Sora.

— Nothing, a month and he's as good as new, but without the stigma of that madman — he got off easy! — The woman finished emphatically and turned to her husband. — And in general, stop wasting air, we have already agreed on everything.

— The contract will be signed after the holidays. There's still time. — Henry started to say, but his wife interrupted him.

— We. Over. Everything. We have a deal. Period. — said the woman firmly and turned away from the mirror. — Asti will be an official wife, and when she turns fifteen, they'll share a bed. Daphne will give us an heir, perhaps even a few grandchildren.... — Suellen smiled wistfully.

— Eh... — The man could only sigh, for he was right about everything, but his father's heart was hard to bear these decisions.