Dumbledore was about to leave shortly after our exchange, but I advised him to stay a while longer. Not only would he have his answer soon, but his presence here, after what had happened, would be excellent publicity for my business.
By staying, he began to talk to me about the spells I was planning to donate to the school, which made me doubt my decision to insist. Everything started to make sense: yes, he had pressured me with the spells, but he also backed me up against Fudge. It seemed like a maneuver to get my help in the search for Gemma Farley. I wasn't sure if he knew anything more or if Severus had told him what I mentioned. Although I doubted it, his behavior hinted at some intrigue.
However, none of that mattered now. I began transcribing several of the spells I had learned during my mission in Troy. As I wrote, Tonks, who lay unconscious on a nearby armchair after the battle and her injuries, began to wake up. Groggy and visibly tense, she instinctively searched for her wand but couldn't find it. She only calmed down when she realized we were no longer on the battlefield.
She struggled to sit up, and seeing me writing in front of Dumbledore in our busy shop, she asked, confused:
"Did we win, or was it all a dream?" (Tonks)
"We won," I replied, not taking my eyes off my work.
"How long was I unconscious?" (Tonks)
"Not long." (Tenebrius)
"Hmmm... I'm going to rest. I'm going home," she said with a tired voice and sore body. "Think about how you're going to tell my mother what happened, because I don't want to be the one to say it," she added as she walked toward the door leading to the kitchen.
A clone was waiting to transport her using [Travel], which made me reconsider whether I could share that skill with others. If other abilities could be transferred through [Guild], maybe there were ways to expand its use. It was a realm of possibilities worth exploring. Perhaps, with time and leveling up, I'd achieve something similar. After all, the skill had steadily improved with my travels through Europe.
When Tonks left, I was left alone with Dumbledore. He appeared distracted as he examined the items offered at the counters of the shop. Though his expression remained unreadable, I knew he was assessing everything carefully. I could sense his curiosity, surprise, and maybe even a touch of anxiety.
There was so much in this place that even someone like him couldn't fully comprehend: powerful magic, incredible combat skills, unknown spells, a magical mission board of enigmatic origin, and a shop offering unusual and hard-to-get items, even for someone like him, at almost absurd prices.
If Tenebrius were a real person, maybe Dumbledore wouldn't be so surprised. Sometimes he himself forgot: Tenebrius was just an alter ego created by an ordinary student, a second-year pupil. Red, the boy who had barely done anything notable at Hogwarts this year, had accomplished things far beyond the abilities of his peers and even many graduates.
To Dumbledore, my rapid growth was starting to be alarming. Before, he only had to keep an eye on me with caution, but now he seemed to be questioning whether he should pay me as much attention as he gave to Harry.
Nevertheless, what he knew about me managed to reassure him to some extent. I was troublesome and somewhat promiscuous, but I showed no signs of true malice. According to Hagrid and the centaurs, I had saved a unicorn, an act that, in their eyes, spoke to my goodness. But the problem wasn't my character; it was my power. If I were to stray, I wouldn't be a minor threat. A young person with bad intentions but without means was not very dangerous; one with abilities like mine would be devastating if I went off course.
As I wrote, I felt a fixed gaze on me. Raising my eyes, I noticed that Dumbledore was watching me out of the corner of his eye. His eyes diverted immediately, but the intensity of his look unsettled me. I didn't know what he was thinking, but something inside me told me to stay alert. I hid my worries just as he did, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing in the shadows.
When the old man returned, I had already finished transcribing and drawing in a small notebook the spells I had gathered. Greeks, Egyptians, Persians… a bit of everything. From utility magic to healing and combat spells. When I handed him the notebook, he took it seriously, reading it with great care. I had been very detailed in some aspects as a gesture of gratitude, including notes about mistakes I made at the beginning so that future students who read it wouldn't repeat my errors and end up losing an arm or a leg.
"Very interesting magic. Ancient, but educational," he commented.
"It can have its surprises," I replied, leaning back in the chair with my arms crossed. I wanted to project confidence, aware that all the customers, subtly or not, were watching us.
"It seems you've been practicing for a long time," he said, turning the page calmly, although I knew he was spending more time observing me than the notebook.
"It takes time, but with… certain abilities, you can save quite a bit," I said, making a vague reference to the clones. That would be my official explanation; there was no need for anyone to know that I had ways of gaining much more time than it seemed.
"I must admit, you are the most prodigious young man I've met," he said sincerely, though I detected something else in his tone. To him, my potential was not exactly a compliment but rather a warning.
"Thank you," I replied neutrally, maintaining my calm expression.
The conversation continued briefly, but I could feel how the old man was trying to probe. I made an effort to strike a balance: not being too evasive or so honest that I revealed more than necessary. I had to avoid any suspicion that might lead him to interfere more than he should.
When an hour had passed since I had requested the mission, I stood up and approached one of the counters. Acting normally, I leaned as if checking something under it. I took out a blank note, pretended to read it, then picked up a bag and an envelope before returning to Dumbledore.
"Here you go," I said, handing him the envelope and placing the bag on the table. The coins inside chimed softly.
The old man took the envelope, completely ignoring the bag, and looked at me with that inquisitive expression that had already started to make me uneasy. After a moment, he looked away and opened the envelope. Inside, he found several photographs.
In them appeared Gemma Farley, the person he was looking for, engaging in various everyday activities: hanging laundry to dry in the Muggle style, working in a garden, eating a sandwich in a restaurant, teaching a class in front of a blackboard, sitting by a fountain… and, finally, trying on a Muggle bikini.
My body reacted before my mind did. I jumped up immediately and snatched that last photo from his hands. I hadn't even realized it had slipped in among the other images. Without a second's delay, I drew my wand and cast a fire spell to reduce it to ashes.
*Cough!*
"I don't think you need that," I said in a brazen tone, though I felt the slight heat of embarrassment on my cheeks.
The old man looked at me for a moment before returning his attention to the photos. They were simple images, taken from a distance. There was barely anyone else with Gemma in them, and when there was, the photos were carefully framed to avoid exposing the faces of the other people. But what was clear was that these were recent photos. Gemma seemed to be well, though the place she was in remained a mystery.
"Then…" he said finally, leaving the photos on the table.
"I'm sorry, but the other party made a counteroffer. She doesn't want to be found," I replied in a serious business tone. "I can't tell you her location, but she allowed us to give you these photos so you know she's safe. That's why we'll return half of what you paid." I pointed to the bag of coins on the table.
The old man looked back at the photos. In them, the young woman seemed to be living a peaceful, even happy, life. As far as I knew, she was pregnant and getting to know her parents, and I thought it might not be so bad that she was in that place.
"But you know where she is, don't you?" he asked without looking at me.
"I can't tell you that." (Tenebrius)
"I just want to know if she's okay," he replied with a sigh. His voice carried the weight of years and loss. This wasn't the first time he'd faced trouble with students under his protection: Myrtle's death, Newt's expulsion, the accusation against Hagrid. The old man was tired, only wishing that his last years in this world would pass in peace, knowing that his students could live full and safe lives.
"She's fine," I said, also sighing. I chose my words carefully, trying to reassure him and close the matter before it became more complicated. "She's in a safe place, inaccessible to any stranger. She has a few but good friends, receives full care for her pregnancy, and occasionally works as a teacher for a small group of girls learning magic. She didn't finish her studies, so her teaching is limited, but she's not lacking money. Overall, she's fine."
"A place inaccessible?" he asked with interest.
"Well… more or less. Only a few have access." I felt like I had said too much.
"Have you been there?" (Dumbledore)
"Maybe." (Tenebrius)
"Does it have something to do with the people who provided you with that board?" he asked shrewdly, piecing things together. He knew that group was the only unknown to him that could explain my rapid growth.
"Mmmh…" I hesitated, noticing how easily Dumbledore was deciphering everything. "Yes."
"Do you know them well?" he insisted. I wasn't sure if he was asking out of concern for Gemma or fear of the influence they might have over me.
"Only two people, and not very well. They're not talkative. One of them is a merchant; almost everything I sell here comes from him. The other is an old man who lives in his tower, offering services like appraisals, identification, and curse removal, among other things. I only know them. If you want more information, you should ask Gemma. She knows quite a bit about that group; in fact, I think the father of her child is someone important within it." I answered, mixing truths and lies, trying to divert his attention.
"How did you meet them?" he asked, testing the waters. He knew I wasn't being completely honest, but he hoped to find something useful in my answers.
"When I was a child, the merchant passed by the Burrow. I wandered a bit from home that day and found his cart full of products. I had some knuts with me and bought candy for my sister and me. He told me that by finding him, I became a customer. Since then, whenever he opens his shop in a new location, he sends me a message to let me know. That's where I buy almost everything I use, although I can't talk about it with just anyone without consulting first. With you, I made an exception because you're… trustworthy." I emphasized the word, trying to give it an air of complicity. "But I'd like you to keep it a secret. I don't want to lose the supplier who keeps my shop running. If you need more information, you can contact an old student, Remus Lupin. I introduced them a while back, and now they deal with him regularly."
I had said enough to satisfy his curiosity and at the same time pass the burden onto another. Lupin was a name Dumbledore trusted, and I knew he didn't have much information on this matter, so I wasn't worried.
The old man left shortly after, leaving me with a knot of unease in my chest. I wondered how many problems today's decisions would bring me. I was sure I would appear in the Prophet again because of the recent battle, and my instincts also told me that from now on, Dumbledore would be paying more attention to my movements.
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1st Additional Chapter
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