"How?" Barre asked, his voice raspy and defeated. "How did you tamper with the Portkey?"
Sean regarded the broken boy before him, his expression unreadable. "Borell Bulstrode's channels are still, fundamentally, assets of the Bulstrode family," he explained, his tone quiet and instructive. "When the true patriarch gives an order, a subordinate like Borell cannot countermand it. Do you understand?"
A bitter, broken smile touched Barre's lips as the final piece of his failure clicked into place. "So... he didn't betray me."
"No, he didn't," Sean confirmed. "But the people who work for him ultimately serve the head of the family. When their orders conflict, the patriarch's will always takes precedence."
Barre's eyelids drooped. It was over. "I see," he whispered. "I have no more questions. You want a duel... then let's begin. Please, give me my wand."
With a flick of his wrist, Aldrich tossed the wand over. Barre caught it, his gaze toward Sean a complex mixture of resentment and resignation. He took a deep breath, adjusted his footing, and slowly raised his wand into a duelling stance.
"Beauxbatons, Barre Garcia."
"Hogwarts, Sean Bulstrode."
There was no more preamble. They moved at once.
Barre's Disarming Spell was first, a desperate, angry bolt of red light. But Sean's defence was instantaneous. A shimmering blue-white shield rippled into existence, deflecting the spell with ease. And then, something in Sean's form shifted. His new Nimble Casting talent flared to life, and a new fluidity, a stark lack of wasted motion, infused his spellwork.
He flowed from defence directly into offence. The Shield Charm dissolved as his wand arced from top to bottom, pointing directly at Barre.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The grey light of the Full-Body Bind shot across the room. Barre scrambled to dodge, but the confined space offered little room to manoeuvre. He had barely regained his footing when a vibrant green light struck the floor at his feet. A thicket of thorny vines erupted from the stone, snaking upward to entangle him.
"Diffindo!" Barre cried, his reaction swift. He had seen this curse before and knew how to counter it. Sharp cuts from his wand severed the grasping vines.
But the thorns were just a diversion. As Barre focused on freeing his legs, Sean raised his wand and whispered, "Stupefy!"
It was too sudden. With no time to dodge, Barre could only meet the spell head-on.
"Expelliarmus!"
Two jets of crimson light collided in the center of the room, erupting in a shower of crackling, red-hot sparks. In Barre's mind, this was his best chance. He was older, more developed; his magic should be stronger. This was a contest of pure will and power; he was certain he could win.
But as the spells battled, a look of disbelief dawned on his face. The red light from Sean's wand was brighter, more intense. It was pushing his own spell back. He felt his magic straining, faltering against a will of iron and a reservoir of power that defied all logic.
How... how is this possible?
With one last, powerful push, Sean's Stunning Spell finally smashed through Barre's defence. The red light hit him full-on.
Barre's wand went flying. His whole body was thrown backward, and he slammed hard against the wall before crumpling to the floor, totally out cold.
Right after, the panel message popped up in Sean's mind.
[Duel Won!]
[Conditions Met: Victory Against Barre.]
[System Commencing Random Ability Extraction from Defeated Target: Barre.]
[Extracting...]
Sean felt the familiar mental buzz as the system worked.
[Extraction Complete!]
[New Ability Acquired: Disarming Spell (LV2)]
Sean looked down at the unconscious form of his former friend. A cold, pragmatic thought surfaced: Kill him. A loose end is a loose end. But he dismissed it just as quickly. This wasn't the Muggle world, where a body could be easily hidden. The Ministry had spells to retrace a person's last moments, to track a killer. And more importantly, Fleur knew. She had trusted him to handle this himself. A murder would create complications he had no time for.
No, Barre couldn't be killed. The duel had served its purpose—he had collected his "interest." Now, it was time for the authorities.
"Young Master, how should we deal with him?" Aldrich asked.
"Hand him over to the French Ministry," Sean said. "Can you contact the Auror from before?"
"At once, Young Master."
"Thank you, Aldrich."
The transfer was handled quickly and discreetly. The lead Auror, a tall, dark-skinned man with intelligent eyes, looked from the unconscious Barre to Sean.
"Mr. Bulstrode," he said, his tone carefully neutral, "thank you for your cooperation in handing the prisoner to us."
"Although I am British, I am currently a guest in France," Sean replied smoothly. "Of course I have a responsibility to cooperate with the French Aurors. It's my obligation. No thanks are necessary."
The Auror held his gaze for a long moment. "Still, I must thank you. Not every young man, when faced with his would-be murderer, would have the presence of mind to contact us."
Sean knew the man was aware of his lies, but he didn't let it show. He offered an innocent, almost boyish smile. "Well, although he wanted to harm me, he didn't succeed, so I won't hold a grudge. Besides," he added with a hint of satisfaction, "he was also hit by my Stunning Spell. I've already had my revenge."
The Auror gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He had heard of the Bulstrode family's reach. He was no fool. As long as the boy didn't cross a line, there was no reason to pursue the matter further. He and his men collected Barre and departed.
The news of Barre's betrayal sent a shockwave through Beauxbatons. He had been a popular, respected student. No one wanted to believe it, but the facts were undeniable.
Later, in the Great Hall, Sean was eating alone when Fleur approached his table.
"Sean," she began, her voice soft, "Barre... is he...?"
"He tried to escape," Sean said simply. "I caught him. He should be under interrogation by the Aurors now. Don't worry," he added, meeting her gaze. "I didn't do anything to him."
A wave of pure relief washed over Fleur's face, and she smiled, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "I wasn't worried about him," she said quietly. "I was worried about you. That in your anger, you might... dirty your hands. I'm glad you weren't so impulsive."
(End of Chapter)
***
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