December 25th, 1989, Moraine Lake, Canada, 6:23 PM
Somewhere deep in the woodland beside the ever-dazzling famous lake, laid a lavish manor with its theme colour being crimson and black, hidden among the pine trees as thick billowing fog enveloped its surroundings.
After the sun had set, one could sense the silent eeriness exuded from the manor even from afar.
The old lamp outside the black main gate emitted weak pale light that hardly penetrated the foggy pine forest, yet horrifying enough to prevent any stray visitors from approaching.
Amid the deadly silence, an almost inaudible pop sounded, accompanied by the slender silhouette of a woman, Rachelle De Frautois.
She dressed in a formal grey gown, accentuating her elegant yet intimidating figure. Her visage, veiled behind the shadow of her Panama hat, was rather grim and haggard as the woman looked upon the lavish yet dreadful manor.
Rachelle took a few seconds to collect her thoughts before walking steadily towards the rusty black gate adorned with intricate patterns. She then reached out to touch the black gate as she murmured a Latin poem fluently, as if she had done this hundreds of times.
"Fortis Fortunia Adiuvat" (Fortune favours the bold).
At the same time as the incantation sounded, enigmatic ripples undulated from her touch as it spread out all over the black gate. It was causing massive changes in her view.
Long gone was the eeriness looming over the entire area; now standing before her was a lavish manor bathed in warm, bright yellow light from dozens of exquisite lamp placed around the manor.
The black gate opened up to a lively front yard with servants dressed in simple black and white attire, each bearing the signature tattoo of Altxorra Braconier that resembled a sigil, meaning treasure poacher. Some of them were busy moving cargo containing you know what, while others guided peculiar guests surrounding the artistic fountain.
It is worth mentioning that most guests here were adorned with a prepared mask that helped cover their identities; they came to the manor either via floo power or apparition.
Yet, all of them seemed oblivious to the presence of Rachelle as she swiftly made her way to a side door in a rather secluded corner of the manor.
The side door leads her into a small hallway adorned with simple paintings and tapestries; the whole place was bathed in the dimly lit glow of old-fashioned wall lamps.
Rachelle's pace quickened as she paced towards the end of the hallway leading into a stairwell to the second floor of the manor. There, she took a few twists and turns before reaching the wooden door of a particular room.
As she made her way to the wooden door, Rachelle could still hear the rowdiness echoing throughout the manor. It stemmed from the main, as it was the place for the most distinguished guests of Altxorra Braconier, the place where tempting deals happened.
Taking a deep breath, Rachelle prepared herself once more, as she could already perceive the dreadful aura permeating from the other side of the door, coming from the person standing in this room. It seemed like the other person had noticed Rachelle's presence.
Knock! knock!
The wooden door opened enigmatically, revealing what was inside to be a study belonging to the nobles of mediaeval times.
Exquisite bookshelves, tea tables, and other delicate furniture were all bathed in the golden glow of the crackling fireplace.
One could see a slender silhouette sitting in the armchair facing the fireplace and seemingly playing wizard chess by himself. He dressed in formal red noble attire, adorned with gold threads and buttons. Obvious traces of time had left their mark on the man's visage; his slick grey hair was tied into a short ponytail, and his grey moustache was groomed carefully, giving the man a stoic and wise posture.
Upon noticing the familiar figure, Rachelle immediately kneeled on one knee as she spoke in the most firm, respectful tone.
"Good evening, Marquis, I came upon your summons."
The Marquis, known only to the inner members of Altxorra Braconier, all of the branch managers of the organisation regard him as the boss, the man occasionally seen in public events of the nobles within the wizard worlds and even some of the Muggles, as he went by the name Asmus Drazkhan, an old noble linage traced back to Europe.
He was feared and respected by many for his sheer ability to form relationships with the upper class. On the outside, he exuded the aura of a friendly and capable businessman, organising Ministry-sanctioned auctions of various goods, from antiques and artefacts to arts and, of course, the most prominent of all, magical creatures.
Though, as you might have already been aware, that was just a façade, behind the man's dazzling smile was a vile, ruthless wizard with an insurmountable thirst for the utmost magic creature, a cunning leader of one of the most infamous poacher organisations in history that operated for decades, shielded under those corrupt politicians.
Rumour had it that the man delved into such powerful creatures, for they brought him more magic power and extended his vitality. Rachelle first found it hard to believe such a thing, yet after years spent working for this organisation, reaching the potion where she was as well as prolonging direct contact with Marquis made her reconsider the possibility of it being true to some extent, especially with the organization's recent pursuit of Re'em.
Stopping whatever he was doing, the Marquis raised slowly from his chair, both his hands behind his back, one clutching the exquisite Blackthorn wood and Dragon heartstring wand playfully.
Turning to look at one of his most capable subordinates, his cold blue irises bore traces of sadness…No, rather, it was a disappointment as the man swiftly waved his wand forward, drawing a semi-arc. Diffindo.
With his action, numerous small cuts appeared silently all over Rachelle's body, blood slowly oozing out of the wounds. Yet, it wasn't all, as a rather hoarse, cold voice echoed throughout the dimly lit study, "Crucio, the Cruciatus Curse." One word, three syllables, yet it bore tremendous horror to the receiver.
Despite the stinging pain represented by a thousand needles inserted into his entire nervous system, Rachelle bit her lips forcefully, clenching her hand so tight that the fingernails dug into her palm, her body drenched in cold sweat. However, she showed no signs of succumbing to the pain, and no sound of agony escaped her mouth.
She tried to keep her vision steady as her body writhed occasionally due to instinct. Moments passed by, and Merlin knew how long it would be before all the pain subsided.
"Very good, Miss Frautois; this will conclude your punishment for such failure." Marquis paced back and forth slowly as his icy blue eyes scrutinised the kneeling, weak Rachelle, making sure that he caught the woman's subtle reactions.
"How come an... 'Magician' appeared out of thin air, sitting leisurely in the most secured place of the entire hideout, which happened to be our top 3 secured bases?
"He then nonchalantly basted all your... well-recruited subordinates with ease before engaging in fierce combat with the branch manager – YOU, who left pathetically, seemingly escaped the pursuit of three Aurors, not without causing an avalanche afterwards."
Marquis tilted his head towards the kneeling Rachelle.
"We had high hopes in your ability, Miss Frautois; you must have realised it once we entitled you to such a position, am I right? Rachelle dear."
The woman, drenched in cold sweat, only mumbled the words yes with difficulty, not daring to meet Marquis's piercing glare.
"Now, not only did you get those hounds of the French Ministry on our tail but also those hungry inquisitors of the ICW (International Confederation of Wizards or International Federation of Warlocks) waiting to rip us apart."
"Do you have any idea how much we spent just to cover up your pathetic failure? Miss Frautois?"
Rachelle gulped with difficulty as she mustered up every strength she had left to answer Marquis. "Please forgive me, boss... I shall make up for this failure, so please let me have another chance! I swear on my name to bring that treacherous thief—the magician—to you."
Silence once again loomed over the room as the Marquis showed no reaction to her firm words.
Time ticked slowly as Marquis finally let out a small sign as he nonchalantly gestured for Rachelle to take her leave. "Mark my word, Miss Frautois."
Picking herself up, Rachelle managed to perform a deep bow, expressing her gratitude towards Marquis's mercy, for he hadn't disposed of her on the spot.
Just as she reached the wooden door, a cheerful yet full-on mockery sounded from behind her.
"Oh, and Merry Christmas, Miss Frautois."
Rachelle's eyes shone with fluctuations as she replied succinctly. "Merry Christmas, Marquis."
As the door slowly closed, Rachelle darted a final look at the Marquis's back.
Breathing out a breath of relief, Rachelle steadily paced towards one of the guest rooms reserved only for branch managers in a rather secluded area of the first floor, passing by the rowdy main hall where the auctions took place.
The worn-out Rachelle threw herself onto the one-person bed, after having taken two vials of healing potion, one for physical injuries and one for mentality. With a final thought about how to deal with such a powerful magician, exhaustion finally caught her mind as she drifted into a peaceful slumber.
As her consciousness sank into a blissful dream, the image of her younger self immersed in observing an amiable man in his forties tending to a baby Antipodean Opaleye relished her mind.
Back at the dimly lit study, the Marquis, Asmus Drazkhan was raising an eyebrow as he recalled the information regarding the mysterious magician's attack on their base in Interlaken.
Even with extended efforts, they managed to find nothing about him; it seemed like that was the first time he ever made an appearance.
About his motives, Asmus fully regarded the ideal of delivering justice, which, as the magician claimed, was nothing but a collateral result.
'Vengeance? Fame? Or... Magical Beast?'. Marquis's blue eyes shone with contemplation under the pale light of the crackling fireplace. Anyway, he had given the order to look out for this magician, and he got a feeling that they would cross paths soon.
December 25th, 1989, 221B Baker Street, London, 11:23 PM
Samantheus was having quite a headache as he had just ended a floo call, using Ethan's fireplace on the second floor, with one of his acquaintances, Senior Auror Gautier Blanchard of the French Ministry.
Looking at the nonchalantly sipping hot latte while examining some reports given by Remus regarding the company's status.
"Really, Ethan, Altxorra Braconier, the infamous organisation of those hideous poachers in the world!"
Sam's voice was harsh as he attempted to convey his utmost concern regarding his friend's action in blasting those poachers's hideouts. Having worked for the ministry for a long time, Sam eventually had a plethora of connections that allowed him to acquire a lot of first-hand information.
"Don't be so dramatic, Sam; as you can see, I handle it just fine."
"Of course, Mr. about to be famous mysterious magician who also seized a Golden Snidget in passing. Just wait till the Ministry gets a hold of this by tomorrow morning.
"You know how the hounds of the Daily Prophet work; this is going to be quite profitable." Sam scoffed.
Ethan just shook his head with a smile at Sam's mockery.
"But, Merlin, you have to drag Harry with you!" Sam almost shouted at Ethan
"You know why, Sam." Ethan calmly stated this as he gave the man a meaningful look.
Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "So, this is how you prepare for the boy. But did it have to be Altxorra Braconier? What are you intending to get out of them?"
Facing Sam's inquiries, Ethan only smiles mischievously. "You know soon enough, my friend."
Sigh. 'Taking like those charlatans, well, he's a seer after all'. Sam decided to put the matter in the back of his mind for now. Still, he urged Ethan to tell him first if he intended to do something this dangerous, as those poachers weren't just some whimsical dark wizards who learned one or two lowly curses.
Altxorra Braconier clashed with the MACUSA a few years ago had already proved how dangerous they were.
With that concluded, Sam left the seer, who was immersed in his scheming thoughts while playing with a red bottle in his hands. This must be another trophy from that ordeal.
He quickly joined Remus and Harry downstair, the two were enthusiastically examining the exotic Golden Snidget, Jasper, before Ethan returned it into the wild… If he ever intended to do that.