"Mr. Malo. Have you considered my offer?" In a heavily warded private room, Borell Bulstrode swirled a glass of red wine, his eyes fixed on the man seated opposite him.
The man, Malo, had a shaved head and a web of angry, burn-like scars covering the left side of his face. He looked at Borell, his voice a low rasp. "You should be clear on this, Mr. Bulstrode. Your father is exceedingly protective of that... Squib's son. If I kill him and am not discovered, all is well. But if I am caught, you may walk away unscathed. I will not be so fortunate."
"I was unaware of your family's true power before," Malo continued, his gaze steady. "But after my time in your service, I understand. The Bulstrode reach is long and extends to many countries. There are few places I could run where you could not find me."
"I can send you to South Africa," Borell offered smoothly. "The continent is vast, a place our family has little interest in. It is a prosperous magical community. You could live very well."
A long silence stretched between them. Finally, Malo spoke again. "I can agree to this. But my price is doubled."
A cruel smile touched Borell's lips. "I thought a man who once followed the Dark Lord would find such a small task simple. Yet here you are, haggling like a common merchant."
Malo was unbothered by the taunt. "I followed the Dark Lord, yes, but I was merely a subordinate of one of his Death Eaters. I was never deemed worthy of the Dark Mark," he said flatly. "Do not mistake me for a loyalist. I am an ordinary wizard who wishes to live a better life. I serve whoever holds the power—and the galleons. Nothing more."
Borell gave a noncommittal nod. "Very well. As long as you kill Sean Bulstrode, you will have what you desire. He is currently at Beauxbatons. I will arrange for someone to lure him from the grounds and deliver him to you."
"See that you keep your promise."
"You can rest assured," Borell said, his smile widening. "I have many men under my command. I would not dream of breaking my word. It would be bad for morale."
Beauxbatons Study Hall
Unlike Hogwarts, Beauxbatons maintained a strict separation between its library and its study areas. It was in one of these quiet, sunlit halls that Barre Garcia found Fleur Delacour, engrossed in a journal.
"Fleur? What are you reading?" he asked, pulling up a chair opposite her.
Their shared duty of welcoming Sean had been no coincidence; the two were close friends. Barre, perhaps due to his humble origins or a simple lack of romantic inclination, was one of the few boys at school who treated her not as a prize to be won but as a person. This, combined with his quiet ambition, had earned him her genuine friendship.
In response to his question, she simply held up the periodical, letting him see the cover.
Barre's eyes widened as he recognised the title, then widened further as he saw the headline. A jolt of shock ran through him. "Sean Bulstrode?" he said in disbelief. "The boy we met earlier? He published a paper in The Golden Cauldron? Surely it's a mistake... a different person with the same name?"
Even as he spoke, he shook his head. "No, no, it can't be. It specifies 'Sean Bulstrode of Slytherin House, Hogwarts.' It must be him..." He stared at the cover, dumbfounded. "But he's only just finished his first year. How could a child like that publish in The Golden Cauldron? It's... it's astonishing."
"Would you like to see?"
As Fleur offered him the journal, Barre reached for it, then paused. "What about you?"
"I have finished his paper. I can read something else."
"Alright then. Thanks."
Barre began to read, his initial shock morphing into profound admiration. "The modification to the Draught of Living Death is impressive enough, but some of these techniques... I have never seen anything like them. If they could be applied to other potions, wouldn't they be universally applicable?"
"I considered that as well," Fleur replied, her expression thoughtful. "But it is not so simple. You see, he added two new ingredients to the formula, which are required for his technique to work. His method saves time, but it increases the cost. While the extra expense is negligible for this specific potion, it might not be feasible when applied to others."
"Even so," Barre breathed, still staring at the page. "It is a truly brilliant idea. I regret that I did not try to get to know him better..."
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the library.
Sean closed the heavy alchemy tome, glancing over at Jensen, who had been asleep for Merlin-knows-how-long. He stood, stretched his stiff limbs, and turned to Aldrich. "Aldrich, let's go for dinner. I'm a bit hungry."
"Of course, Young Master. After so much reading, it is natural to feel hungry. We shall head to the Great Hall at once."
Aldrich tapped the table lightly with the tip of his wand. Jensen, who had been sleeping fitfully, jolted awake. Seeing Sean and Aldrich standing, he scrambled to his feet.
"Are... are you finished?"
"The Young Master is hungry and wishes to dine," Aldrich informed him coolly.
"Understood."
Aldrich first tidied the books on the table, then fell into step at a respectful pace behind Sean, with Jensen trailing after them as they left the library.
Walking the path between the garden and the Quidditch pitch, Sean's mind was still tangled in the complex theories he'd just read. He had to admit, even basic alchemy was at least two levels more difficult than Potions or Transfiguration. In a single afternoon, he had barely managed to digest half a book.
There were entire sections on alchemical arrays that remained stubbornly incomprehensible. He realized now that it was because he hadn't yet begun to study Ancient Runes. It seemed, he thought, that he would need to start sooner than planned.
***********
✨ 300 gems = 1 bonus chapter
✨ 500 gems = another bonus chapter
Get access to advanced chapters at my P@treon.
[email protected]/meowthtl