HP: Spirit Talker

I lost consciousness somewhere on the threshold of the Beauxbatons carriage and came to a few days later in the same carriage. A lot of options had been considered, and I wasn't the only one with a brain. If I were someone else, there would have been many more options, but in my case there were many dangers, so I had to get out.

I couldn't just lie down at home or in the production facilities, because the Ministry's "eagles" could show up and legally (in the sense of local laws) drag my unconscious body wherever they wanted, and further — within the limits of imagination.

I have no desire to wake up in a cage somewhere. Being treated at Hogwarts, where Dumbledore rules, is the same madness. The choice was between the Chinese and the French. No, if Ternier were here, I wouldn't go near the carriage, but Delacour is another story.

Paul, along with most of the Beauxbatons students, returned to France as port-keys, but that's just for the record. The Chinese, on the other hand, remain a very unstable variable, and what sign that "x" will take is a big question. I can only hope for the best.

So, the French. I had to pay ten sets of privacy seals for my "stay" and additional sets for the services of a professional witch doctor, but I consider it a fair deal. Especially with this arrangement, Director Maxim allowed some people to visit, so I was able to give normal orders to my people during that time. But that's me getting ahead of myself.

I woke up two days later with pain in my side and inside, my head hurt too, and I was very thirsty. Fleur was next to me, but the girl didn't want to talk to me and immediately jumped out to call a witch doctor. I was examined, given a potion to drink, complained about the inability to remove artifacts that interfered with some diagnostic charms, and then allowed to eat lunch.

I ate a light meal in the company of two blondes who alternately expressed their delight at the spectacular duel, or explained my feeble-mindedness, for I could have done it "that way". I didn't resist, and for the first two days I played the "dying swan," for I was really badly beaten, and the pain of the aftereffects never stopped.

Snape, a pale parasite, exploded some kind of stone bomb with liquid green fire that shattered two of my ribs, ripped out some flesh, damaged my insides, burned me, and bruised my arm at the elbow.

For the first few days, the witch doctor only repaired the broken ribs, as my weakened body would not tolerate the "skele-gro," but when I regain my strength, I will grow new ribs. I'll have to deal with the effects of the dark magic that tore out some of the channels in my body and aura.

As for Snape and my duel with him, that information never made it to the press, which was surprising. For everyone, Severus Snape died prematurely in an explosion in his personal workshop, and I'm sick and being treated where it's a secret. No, really, everyone who needs to know knows, but for the general public, the matter will remain closed.

The first week I didn't use any magic at all, so as not to make the situation worse with energy, so I read a lot, talked to Fleur and Gabby. And on the fourth day, just after lunch, Gabrielle informed me that I had visitors — Elizabeth Stewart and Yusheng Lan. With Madame Maxime's permission, they were shown in.

— Good afternoon. — I was sitting in bed reading an old scroll on snake breeding.

— Good afternoon. — The Chinese woman nodded, glanced around the room, and then moved to a chair.

Lizzie took two steps into the room and stopped, squinting at me. Well, that's understandable, since my head, arm, and torso are all bandaged and perfectly visible. I've deliberately curtailed my magic, so there's no empathy or heightened senses.

— I'm fighting two urges right now: pity and addiction. — The girl crossed her arms under her high chest, showing her deep thoughts. The Delacour sisters standing behind her frowned slightly. — Why didn't you say so? — Lizzie moved closer and studied my face.

— I wanted to combine two scandals into one. — I answered the truth, for if I had told her of my decision, I would have had to endure a scandal and a quarrel, and then another after the duel. What would I want? By the way, Yusheng clearly understood my thoughts, which caused her to grin wryly and look at Elisabeth expectantly. My friend did not disappoint me.

— Strange... — The girl stretched out, her blond eyebrows slightly furrowed. — ... I thought you had no brain, but here you are! — The girl's face changed sharply into an angry one. — Why don't you use it for its intended purpose, my dear? What was the point of this foolish duel when you will soon have your first competition? You'll never recover! — The girl almost screamed at the end. — Answer me!

Judging by the expressions on their faces, everyone was interested in hearing the answers to the questions. A heavy sigh escaped me.

— Lizzie, don't shout — Madame Maxime won't be pleased with the noise. Sit down. And you girls, sit down. — The last was addressed to the Weylls, who remained at the door.

— Who are they to you, by the way? — Lizzie asked sullenly, glaring at Fleur, who replied in a similar vein.

— Friends.

— You're lying, aren't you? — The blonde narrowed her eyes skeptically.

— Cut the crap, will you? — I didn't change my voice or facial expression, but the girl could sense my displeasure at my behavior. — Thank you. First, I think we should get everyone properly acquainted. Now, Ms. Elizabeth Stewart, a sorceress originally from the United States, worked and works for me, my friend. — At my introduction, the Veils examined the girl very closely, and the last word made them both frown. — The Delacour sisters, from the pure-blooded French aristocratic Delacour family, Fleur and Gabrielle. — They pointed at the girls in turn. — Mrs. Lan Yusheng, head of a branch of the clan and the oldest pureblood Lan family whose roots went back several thousand years into the history of the Celestial Empire.