A full week passed after the duel, and to Sean's profound disappointment, no one came to challenge him. He spent his days in a state of quiet agitation.
Did they truly just swallow their pride like that? he fumed internally. Has the entire school decided to let it go? Are they that cowardly? Impossible. There must be someone else willing to step up. The lack of action was genuinely troubling.
While the students of Beauxbatons kept their distance, Fleur and Barre did the opposite. Their academic discussions with Sean grew more frequent and intense. He found their company stimulating; both were highly intelligent, and he could bounce complex ideas off them, learning much in return. His days fell into a comfortable rhythm: dormitory, library, Great Hall, and back again.
He dedicated most of his time in the library to alchemy. While much of Beauxbatons' collection overlapped with Hogwarts, its repository of alchemical texts was vastly superior. In a single week, he had already gained a solid foundational understanding of the difficult subject.
"Fleur," Sean asked as they walked toward the Great Hall for lunch one day, "how exactly is the alchemy course structured here? Is the professor still on the grounds?"
Fleur shook her head. "Alchemy is an elective that can only be taken after the fourth year, and the requirements are incredibly strict. Your marks in Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions must all be outstanding even to be considered. Very few students qualify each year."
"Our professor, Barbarossa Coronel, holds a rather detached position at the academy," she continued. "He despises working during the holidays and is almost certainly not here. However, he has a deep appreciation for intelligent and diligent students. For those he deems worthy, he can be quite generous with his time and knowledge."
Sean sighed with genuine regret. "A pity. With only a month here, it seems I won't have the chance to meet him."
Fleur hesitated, glancing at him as they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. "Sean," she began quietly, "if you truly wish to meet Professor Coronel, I could write to him. Perhaps he would be willing..."
Sean immediately shook his head, cutting her off gently. "Fleur, thank you for the offer, but there's no need. From your description, Professor Coronel sounds like a man who dislikes being troubled. It's not worth you spending your goodwill with him for a whim of mine. I wouldn't want him to be annoyed with you on my account."
"It would be no trouble, Sean, truly. We could at least try," she insisted softly.
"Relationships are a finite resource," he replied, his tone firm but kind. "There's no need to exhaust your favor with the professor for my sake. A single meeting would offer little of substance anyway. Let's just drop the matter."
Fleur looked down, her long, silvery eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "As you wish," she murmured, saying no more.
From a few steps behind, Aldrich observed the exchange, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. It was the kind of smile Jensen had come to recognize.
"Aldrich, what are you smiling at?" Jensen whispered, his recent cheerfulness making him bolder. "Thinking of something happy?"
The smile on Aldrich's face didn't waver, but his voice was mercilessly cold. "It is none of your concern." His courtesy, his smile, his respect—they were reserved for Sean alone. For others, especially Jensen, he was a different person entirely.
"Tsk. The Young Master really should see this side of you," Jensen muttered. "I think he'd be quite amazed."
"The Young Master will not see it," Aldrich replied, giving Jensen a look of pure contempt. "When he looks at me, I am always the polite Aldrich." With that, he quickened his pace, gliding past Jensen to pull out a chair for Sean, then another for Fleur, and a third for Barre. He completely ignored Jensen, who was left to seat himself.
After a simple lunch, Fleur and Barre departed together. Sean, happy for the quiet, bid them farewell and prepared to return to the library. But just as he reached its entrance, he found his path blocked. Schiller Cavill stood there, flanked by two other boys, clearly waiting for him.
"Sean," Schiller said, stepping forward. "You said before that anyone who wants to challenge you can come and find you, correct?"
"I go to the dueling room at ten o'clock every morning," Sean replied, his voice flat. "I wait until ten-thirty. Unfortunately, no one has appeared all week. I was beginning to consider whether I should continue wasting my precious morning on appointments that no one keeps."
A faint flush of shame appeared on Schiller's face. He knew Sean was right; he had made a promise on behalf of his schoolmates, and they had failed to deliver. Ultimately, the responsibility fell on him.
Sean studied him. He'd managed to extract a Level 1 Stunning Spell from Schiller in their last encounter, a useful addition to his arsenal. Schiller was a decent blind box, but the chances of him dueling again were slim. It was time for a new opponent.
Schiller cleared his throat. "I am here to issue a challenge on behalf of another. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, in the dueling room. The challenger is one of the most outstanding students in our fifth year. His family is one of the oldest in France, with a rich history. I hope you will take this seriously. He is much stronger than I am."
"Very well. I will be there."
"Good," Schiller said, looking relieved. "Then I won't disturb you further." He turned and left with his friends.
Aldrich watched them go. "Young Master," he said quietly, "if you win again, I believe these Beauxbatons students will finally leave you in peace. A second upper-year student losing to a lower-year... they would have no face left to continue issuing challenges."
Sean's expression was unreadable. "I may not win tomorrow's duel," he said slowly. "I've already used most of my tricks last time..." He paused, turning to his butler with a thoughtful look.
"But speaking of which, Aldrich, have you prepared the items I asked for?"
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