HP: Spirit Talker

POV Harry Potter

Harry was having a hard time with the new round of suspicion from those around him. It seemed like he had done nothing to anyone, but they were looking at him like he was the last traitor. And most importantly, why?

Ron, a friend of his, had taken offense at something Harry hadn't even thought of doing and boycotted him. Hermione was buried in some books again, glad that at least she wasn't completely "lost" and supported him and promised to help him in his search... and she did!

Hermie promised to find more information about dragons, and he almost insulted her! It wasn't nice, it wasn't nice, it was just like the others. And Sirius said to stick with friends.

Right, I'll have to thank my friend for her help! It's just a shame that I won't be able to meet my godfather until after the trial. I wonder why Sora wanted to see him, and what was this business with the Black Family? And why didn't he ask about it right away? Oh yeah, Ron had asked him to fly broomsticks, so he was in a hurry. Well, I could ask him now — he's coming over to tell him about the dragons anyway.

No, come to think of it — dragons! How do you defeat them if magic doesn't work on them? If Professor Alastor Moody doesn't tell him to use a broom, what will he do? He wouldn't even be able to outrun those flying scourges — it's not his level. Eh...

There was a familiar door, a knock, an invitation to enter, a familiar living room, and a familiar wizard. But what is he doing? And why are there so many dwarf trees? They're strangely shaped, but they're beautiful.

— And what are you doing? — The teenager's curiosity was unbridled as he watched the older man slowly move his glowing hands over a pot containing a small plant.

— Growing a tree. — Sora answers seriously.

— What kind of tree? — Harry asked automatically, without taking his eyes off what was going on.

— Strawberry. — The boy replied in all seriousness.

— Ah... — The teenager did not immediately realize what he had heard, caught up in the sight of real magic. What is there to say, in all his time at Hogwarts, the real, exciting and amazing, creating and demonstrating real miracles of magic Harry had seen only a few times. And none of the professors had ever shown anything remotely like what he'd seen on Halloween. Those were the real miracles — that was for sure, compared to them, what they taught at Hogwarts started to look like some kind of tricks, magic tricks. At least that was Harry's impression. And no one had ever grown trees like Sora. To think that she grew a tree, and a strawberry tree at that... — What? A strawberry tree? — Harry hoped he'd misheard.

— Right. — Sora nodded seriously and even gave him a slight squint.

— But still... — Harry tried to find the right words to say what he was thinking, the confusion in his voice was obvious. — But strawberries don't grow on trees, do they? — The teenager said with some doubt.

— You're right, they don't. — Sora nodded, the glow of his hands increased slightly, and literally before the eyes of the shocked observer, the plant grew. — But I don't care. — Harry was stunned by the last words. — I love strawberries and everything about them. But fiddling with bushes in the bed — that's not my method, but if you get a variety in a pot or a tub — that's another matter. — The guy squinted a little harder, and on the already accurate, the tree, strengthened the crown, added branches and leaves ... strawberry. — And there will be more berries, and it will be easier to take care of ... Hmmm. — Before the eyes of the astonished teenager, the tree grew even bigger, and a few minutes later it blossomed white.

— Ummm... umm... umm... — Harry simply couldn't find the words to express what he was feeling right now. — But you can't... — The teenager whispered in an almost pleading tone, his mind refusing to accept the fact that a strawberry tree existed.

— If you really want to — you can. — Sora replied without pausing for a moment, confirming Harry's long-held suspicion that all wizards were indeed mad.

But that's not true! Well, okay, ghosts, okay, there are unicorns and centaurs and pegasi, even the Dark Lords are smoky! But in all the books, in all the world, only strawberry bushes are strawberries! There are no trees! There are no trees! There must be something eternal, unchanging, immutable in this universe, so why can't the center of order be the Law of Strawberry Bushes?

The mind of the teenager with the last name "Potter" continued the fight for common sense (well, he convinced himself of it and sincerely believed in his "normality" of being the most normal wizard).

He fiercely destroyed all assumptions and suppositions, but his eyes saw something else. Under the gaze of the emerald eyes, the tree stopped blooming, the berries formed within half an hour, and then they ripened and filled with the normal, healthy color of real strawberries.

Even the fragrant aroma was just right. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, for some reason, he imagined a picture of a man in front of a strange blue screen TV with a bunch of letters and numbers, and that man's eyes were rolling back and his mouth was foaming.

After this vision, the miracle with the tree was somehow easier to understand. Especially since Sora, smiling broadly and contentedly, collected the first harvest in two deep bowls, poured cream on it, put a spoon in it and handed it to Harry. At the sound of the familiar "Itadakimas!" they moved on to the unexpected dessert.

It was the first time Harry had ever eaten so many strawberries, and they were delicious. Now he didn't care about his earlier thoughts, and what use were they if the strawberries were delicious (!) and sweet!

Harry Potter ate the food with the greatest pleasure and completely forgot about the insults and injustices of his faculty, about the questions and fears before the first test. For the first time in two weeks, the boy simply relaxed and rested his soul.

He felt very good, almost as good as he had on Halloween, which had also been the first time it had not been a day of mourning but a real holiday during which Harry had even seen his parents. It wasn't a cruel illusion of the Einalge mirror, he actually saw his parents under one of the trees.

Lily and James Potter were smiling lovingly at him, his mother was also crying, and his father was hugging her tightly, keeping his brown eyes on his son. For some reason, the boy didn't dare (or couldn't?) approach them, but even a few minutes of silent dialogue was enough to make the bitter lump in his stomach dissolve imperceptibly.

Even the sight of the figures dispersed by the fog in a gust of insensible wind did not cause pain or sadness. There was only the certainty that everything was normal, that everything was as it should be, and that everyone had their own destiny and their own path.

And that night, for the first time, Harry felt the strange warmth that he had bathed in and that seemed to penetrate his skin, a thin stream of loving and welcoming (?) warmth that warmed him and filled him with strength.

Strange, incomprehensible, but familiar. And he almost stopped having nightmares and only bad dreams about his hard childhood. Sometimes, though, there was the image of a griffon looking at Harry very closely, or old wizards and sorcerers in expensive robes. He had never seen these people in real life, not even in photographs, but for some reason they seemed familiar. But these dreams weren't bad, and they didn't give him a headache or make his body feel heavy in the morning.

Harry had thought a lot about it, even read a book about dreams that Hermione had recommended, but he hadn't been able to find anything clear. Well, or maybe the teenager just hadn't grown up with that kind of literature yet.

Potter even considered talking to some adults, but something stopped him, or it didn't work. And these dreams didn't seem too bad, so he wasn't in a hurry to tell anyone. The strawberries were finished, the bowls cleaned with a careless wave of Sora's hand, and Harry turned his thoughts back to the reason he had come.

— Dragons. — I couldn't think of a better way to start.

— I'm sorry, what?

— The first test is dragons. I've seen them. — Harry looked into the Master's face, searching for consternation, but to his surprise he found none, only a smile.

— Thank you for telling me, Harry. I appreciate you turning out to be human. — The boy's face turned serious.

— I don't quite understand... — The teenager's eyes involuntarily glanced over the living room and the trees, where, to his surprise, he found a peach tree with large yellow-orange-red fruits.

— You see, — Sora began carefully. — Among our species of humanoids, strangely enough, there are very few "humans".....

At first Harry didn't quite understand what he was talking about, but he tried to understand. A rather long monologue about the similarity of "humans" and humanoids like them went on under the work on a new plant.

In front of the teenager's eyes, Sora took several tiny seeds in one hand, cast some completely unknown spells on them with his wand, and transformed several small seeds into a larger one, which was immediately planted in a new pot.

Harry listened to the philosophical arguments about how animals, non-humans masquerading as "humans of reason", were guided by primitive instincts, not even feelings. Involuntarily, Harry applied this comparison to his relatives, seeing a prime example of this reflection.

There was also mention of "subdivisions" or "subspecies" into which these "imitators" could be divided, such as: cunning coward, aggressive coward, simple coward, and so on. As the monologue seemed to come to an end, a new tree delighted the eye, nose, and tongue with strawberries.

It was hard to call it a conversation because Harry was more silent and listening, but the teenager saw many things in a new light. Some things he agreed with, some he didn't, but the last expression was very unusual and cruel.

— Well," Sora continued his monologue, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. — As I said, I believe that people should live in a human way, and if they refuse to be human, then they are beasts, animals. So they should be treated accordingly. In the sense that you don't rush out and shoot a stray dog or cat that you see, but if it attacks you, you will do it. Or, for example, you have a dog, and you train it, you educate it, so that it does not attack people, so that it does not shit in the house, so that it does not pull things off the table, and so on. In the same way, I think it is necessary to deal with humanoids: if it does not know how to behave with others — to educate it, if it does not want to be educated — to put it to sleep. Everything is simple, effective, and people will live easier and better, and animals will know what their antics can cost, so they will adapt. Education works on all sides, but in the animal world, it's better to listen to the strong.

— The boy straightened up, took his wand from his lap and used it to pull up the tub of earth, and seemed to be getting back to business. — Okay, Harry, this is going to be tricky, so please don't distract me, okay? That's fine...

For the next forty minutes, Harry watched the Japanese man's strange manipulations. The teenager didn't understand the essence of what was going on, except that the master of the apartment was growing something again.

And for the first time, Potter caught himself thinking that he was beginning to feel magic, not as electrified air that made the hair on his arms move, but somehow ... different, the boy just hadn't had time to make up his mind yet.

The silence gave the teenager time to think about what he'd heard — in a way he couldn't in the faculty lounge — without the noise and distracting shenanigans of those around him. No, Harry liked being among the other noisy kids, but it was very difficult to study or collect one's thoughts in such an environment, and that was sometimes very important.

As time passed, two hours into their stay in these apartments, Luna and a cute little French girl, Gabrielle, came in. And if Luna reminded Harry of an owl — just as direct, with a simple character, but sometimes confusing — Gabrielle reminded him of a small, cheerful canary.

Potter didn't understand where it came from, but he was eager to see the girls' reactions to what Sora was doing. And he even felt a strange pleasure when the last tree, which had grown to two meters, formed real bananas and the girls made a fuss.

Harry couldn't wipe away the wicked smile as he watched the scene repeat itself, only in a much more lively version than the one he had arranged for himself. After a while, Gabrielle told Sora about the dragons, and the boy smiled broadly at her, gave both girls bowls of strawberries and cream, and picked a banana, adding, "I hope I don't grow a tail...".