HP: Spirit Talker

I woke up around noon the next day and got up about an hour later. I didn't want to go to Hogwarts and I needed to do something about my hair. When I got down to the first floor, I went into the kitchen, hungry as hell. Gwyneth and Kiriko were making a cake. They told me that while I was slowly clearing away the rabbit stew, Lizzie had left on a business trip, promising to bring me some news. Aphiri was in the last empty room she'd been assigned, doing her own thing.

I shrugged and popped the last piece of bread into my mouth. (I had discussed this and a number of other rules about food and eating with Miss Travers, because I had been served oatmeal in the morning, which I hadn't been able to stand since I was a kid; or scrambled eggs without bread, which I thought was hooliganism: what about the mac-mac?)

The cake was cherry, and I waited at the table until it cooled, watching the maid teach Kiriko how to make some special cookies with nuts. The first batch and half of the second batch were thrown away under my watch, but the girl was not discouraged and listened carefully to the advice, so the third and fourth batches were perfect.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the girl and I went for a walk, having had a very good time, and on the way back we stopped by my workshop so that Kiriko wouldn't have to come here tomorrow to "feed the flowers", and I myself checked the installed systems of charms and runes.

I also learned from the manager that all preparations are complete, and just today actors from theater and film started recording children's fairy tales in three studios. If everything goes well with the equipment, and it will, because the magicians are watching, then the first three audio stories will be ready in ten days, so we will have time to record nine of them by Christmas. When we entered the house we found that Lizzie had just returned — she was still putting on her long boots when we came in.

The good, or "good" news from Lizzie was that not only had she not given up on the brothel idea, she had stuck to it tooth and nail. The girl had worked out the whole idea, from the question of demand to the days off for the workers. I was busy looking through a swollen folder about the project, and I couldn't refuse: it was worth a closer look at Lizzie, but behind her usual cheerful mask there was fear and a slight uncertainty.

As I'd learned from her, she'd tried to open a small business in the U.S. several times, but things had always gone wrong and her plans had fallen through. Because of this, she had developed a kind of insecurity about herself and her abilities as a person. I spent a good half of Monday night in the living room, going over the project materials and watching Kiriko's etiquette and magic lessons.

Afiri sat here with a book, silently watching the others. Lizzie lay on her stomach on the couch, her legs swinging in the air, reading a magazine. The committee I was on had funded the project because there was no law against normal, clean brothels in Magical Britain, but there was a long list of requirements that had to be met or you would lose your license.

The Post Owl had sent a letter to my solicitor to draw up the necessary paperwork to buy a three-story house in Knockturn Alley, which had been on the market for two years, and to start the paperwork to open a brothel. Lizzie would be the director of the establishment, as she wanted to be, but the business would, of course, be in my name. When we went to bed, Afiri gave us a strange look but said nothing.

And the next day, my blonde and I got up early, got ready, had breakfast and went to my workshops, where we were already awaited by a mixed group of fighters, two medics and four defense specialists. We were on our way to Prince Manor.