When we took a break and were divided among the numerous rooms of the estate, I could finally reach out to my mentor without fear.
An unusual person. But enough thoughts.
"Your Highness?" I inquired as I activated the communication amulet.
A really cool little thing, to be honest. Although it's set for only two users, it can easily bypass the protections of even the oldest mansions. The only downside is that we had to limit the communication to audio only. Video takes up too much magic, and mansions detect that easily.
"You're late, boy." Her voice reached me, not particularly friendly. But I wasn't offended; she has… very good reasons for her nature.
"We're having an international meeting here, politics and all that…" I shrugged carelessly. With her, I could drop the ingrained mask of a pureblood wizard that I usually wore.
"Alright. Since you're in Britain right now, I have a task for you," came her voice, pleasant but with a purpose.
Her appearance matches her voice, by the way.
"I'm not retrieving Excalibur. I'm probably not worthy. And I'm not going to Avalon either. Your colleague runs things there, right?" I quickly warned her. She could very well send me on some brain-breaking adventure. I'll never forget the first and only one like that.
"Call me stupid one more time, and you'll spend an hour or two as a wild animal. What was your last name again?" Her tone was dangerously sharp, making me tense up.
"I understand, got it," I responded with a slightly playful tone. Our relationship is hard to describe in normal terms. It would take a certified psychologist — or a psychiatrist — to figure this out. After all, travelers through the universes and ancient witches are far from typical.
"Even if I were to use you as a pawn, the Lady of Avalon would rip your mind apart to get to me. And crossing her is the last thing any reasonable person or non-person would want," her voice carried a note of condescension. "Your task is simpler. You'll find me the sword Orna. It likely knows a lot about Fomorian magic, which I want to study."
"A sentient sword?" I almost whistled in surprise. Quite rare. The Hat at Hogwarts is a source of pride for the school because creating something capable of independent thought is… even for magic, extremely difficult. And not just for magic either. "Alright, at least it's not the 'bring me something, though I don't know what' type of task. But the first part of that ancient saying — 'go there, I don't know where'— still applies."
"Something Byzantine?" she mused on the other end of the line. It's actually Russian, but it probably came from Byzantium. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. No, I'm not so bloodthirsty as to make you wander all over the islands. It's in Northern Ireland."
"Ahem…" I cut myself off, wanting to point out that's still a large area. But she had already warned me not to think her a fool.
I had once been turned into an animal for snapping at her. I learned that lesson well. It's the others who should be getting worked up, not you.
"Good boy," she almost purred, but it sounded… unsettling. "It's in the ruins of a castle near a town called Portrush. There's only one intersection with the Magical World there, you won't miss it."
"Got it… This might be a stupid question, but why aren't you going yourself if you know the exact location?"
My companion suddenly fell silent.
Silence.
Still silence.
Hey, I don't like this.
"...It's the domain of someone… I would prefer not to encounter." After nearly a minute (!) of silence, her voice returned, somewhat muffled. "If you and she—"
"No, that's not it," she interrupted herself. I didn't see it, but I imagined the witch shaking her head. "You won't have any problems with her."
"Really?" One of my eyebrows rose in skepticism.
"Absolutely. You can tell little Hilda that you're there on my orders. Just don't let anyone else know."
"Do you really think I can't keep my mouth shut?" I asked.
"Even I have let things slip, so don't be too overconfident, wolf cub." And again, I could almost see her waving a delicate hand dismissively. "Go ahead. Once you're back on the continent, I'll send my familiar to pick up the sword."
"Understood," I replied, feeling the connection cut off. Interesting… Unexpected, but interesting. And although we didn't discuss any reward, Her Highness isn't one to be stingy, so I should approach this task with full dedication.
Besides, the ruins of the castle she sent me to are clearly not ordinary. It'll be fascinating to see what's there.
But even more intriguing is the person the witch mentioned. And it seems she expects there's a very good chance we'll meet.
Interesting, indeed!
***
"So, a witch?" My mother gave me a strange look when I summarized my recent conversation in a more condensed form.
"Yes. So, how can we explain my absence for almost the entirety of the negotiations?" I asked, sitting across from her and studying the painting. Fortunately, it had no living inhabitants and wasn't connected to other portraits, so it couldn't relay our conversation to the building's owner.
"In many other cases, I would be angry about such impudence," Hildegard closed her eyes. "But right now, there's no serious problem in fulfilling the witch's whim. Your absence won't be disruptive." She frowned slightly and continued, "The situation here is… different. If Bathory, and by extension Gabor's son, have more stable positions, we, on the other hand… Next time, Germany might be represented by someone else. So, your absence won't impact our standing. However, if we are here again, leaving the negotiations would be… unwise. Make sure to pass that along to the witch."
"Understood…" I nodded slightly, taking in this new information. "By the way, about the negotiations… I must admit, I didn't fully understand everything, and…" I shrugged, a little embarrassed.
"The negotiations, yes…" My mother massaged the bridge of her nose. "The situation is worse than we thought. The islanders used to have many pureblood families, but now… fewer than twenty remain, at least among the older ones. And several of them are Dumbledore's obedient dogs. It's… troubling." The sorceress sighed. "It feels as though the war was fought only on their territory and not ours. Of course, we've had more time to recover, but even during the post-war years, things weren't this bad in Germany!" Surprisingly, for the first time in nearly a year, my mother's emotions flared up so vividly.
"That's certainly unfortunate… But it's the consequence of their reckless venture with their Lord," I shrugged again. They could have handled it more subtly, instead of waging a full-scale guerrilla war.
"Indeed. But that's not what you asked about. I lost control for a moment," she sighed again. "As for us — there's been an agreement to restore some assets that were accidentally destroyed during this situation with Volde… whatever his name is? Doesn't matter. The good news is that all the holders of the secret to our magical metal production in Britain have already been wiped out."
"Oh-ho… That's really good news. Grandfather made a mistake getting involved in the war on Grindelwald's side. Now only the French and Americans know the secret," I grumbled, remembering my childhood and the still-living, but half-mad old man. He paid his way out, though. Paid too much. He should have gone to prison, and we could have kept the metal's secret to ourselves. I don't mind the French as much — they suffered seriously, after all — but the Yanks and Brits…
"We'll get to them eventually," my mother promised with a hint of grimness. "Regarding everything else… we managed to secure some preliminary deals for supplying the magical metal. The French family that, unsurprisingly, got hold of our secret is charging the islanders exorbitant prices. And it's no surprise that they're clinging to any chance to save money with all their might. Especially the smaller, younger families who can't afford the absurd French prices."
"I'm about to suggest something slightly heretical, but considering some of our financial problems… maybe we should start selling to half-bloods as well? That would seriously increase the cash flow from the islands. There are loads of them in Britain," I proposed, watching my mother's eyebrows furrow slightly.
"Hm-m… Doing that in our own lands would indeed be heretical. But among the islanders… it might work," my mother admitted after a minute of thought.
"If anything, we can always blame the French. We could claim that because we're taking over the pureblood market, they decided to make up for it by selling to the half-bloods. Their condescending attitude toward half-bloods would work in our favor too," I added slyly, inwardly rubbing my hands together. Sure, we have enough resources for a comfortable life, but that doesn't mean I want to just sit around doing nothing. I have several projects in mind, both for myself and my company, that I'd like to pursue. And for that, I need money — lots of it.
Unfortunately, the Muggle-born market is still out of reach for now. My mother won't agree to such a drastic shift, even if I suggest selling only the lowest-grade magical metal. Maybe later, once she sees the profits from the half-bloods… After all, there are still quite a few of them, and the Muggle-borns don't yet outnumber them by much.
But the population of the Muggle world is growing, and the number of wizards from non-magical families will increase as well. The other purebloods will figure it out eventually, but later. We need to be the first to seize the best opportunities. Even if, at first, I'll be labeled as someone who shows leniency toward so-called 'mudbloods,' when the others finally catch on, all those insults will be forgotten, and I'll be respected — and envied.
…But that's a plan for thirty years down the line, or at least a decade or two.
"An interesting option. If our situation were better, I wouldn't consider it," my mother pressed her lips together, effectively giving my idea the green light. "But I'm not foolish enough to pass up an opportunity to strengthen the family. If this gets out, we'll frame it as a gesture of leniency toward half-bloods and a desire to bind them closer to purebloods."
"That's a good idea," I admitted, as I hadn't thought of that angle. A slight oversight.
"You may go now. The Malfoy house-elf will escort you… Dobby!" She clapped her hands, and the house-elf immediately appeared before us… He looked very much like the one from the films, though, like the Malfoys themselves, not quite identical.
"Did you need something, ma'am?" The creature asked obsequiously, a clear look of fear in its face and eyes.
"Yes, escort my son to the exit. He will be leaving the mansion for a short time," she ordered, barely glancing at the magical creature. "Once you return, you can sightsee… It seems maman has no doubt that whatever conversation you have with their house-elf will reach the ears of the mansion's owners. "And come back soon. We'll be staying here for two more days."
"Jawohl," I replied with a hint of humor, getting up from my seat.
A few minutes later, I was outside the mansion. The moment I crossed the anti-apparition dome covering the garden, I spun on the spot, landing in front of the unremarkable entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.