Stealing Magic: A Darker Hogwarts

As the enchanted dusk settled over Golden Tulip street, the hum of a Muggle car—charmed to glide silently—drifted through the evening air. Sean parted the first-floor curtains, their fabric shimmering with faint protective spells, and spotted his father, Adrian, pulling into the drive. In the backseat sat his step-grandfather, Gideon, his sharp eyes glinting even from a distance. Sean's brow lifted—Gideon, arriving with Adrian? That was unexpected.

"Sean, open the door," Margaret called from the kitchen. "I'll fetch your father's favorite wine from the cellar."

"Got it, Mom," Sean replied, heading to the entrance.

At the gate, Sean peered through the pe: Sean watched Adrian and Gideon approach, their silhouettes framed by the glow of the house's charmed lanterns. Before they could knock, he swung the door open, wrapping Adrian in a tight hug. Then, turning to Gideon, he bowed slightly, his manners polished. "Grandfather, I'm glad you can join us for dinner."

Gideon's lips curved into a smile, his gaze appraising. "I hear you've done well at Beauxbatons, Sean. I'm pleased."

"Thank you, Grandfather. Please, come in," Sean said, gesturing inside.

Gideon's grin widened as he studied Sean's formal demeanor. While Margaret and Adrian chatted nearby, oblivious, Gideon suddenly reached out, pinching Sean's cheek—still soft with youth—and tugged just hard enough to make him wince.

"Does it hurt? Of course it does," Gideon teased, his tone playful but edged. "What's this formal act you're playing at?"

Sean rubbed his cheek, smirking despite the sting. "Grandfather, I'm just being polite. Come in, rest. I'll help Mom with dinner."

Before Sean could move, Gideon flicked a finger. A subtle spell, not quite Petrificus Totalus but close, locked Sean's body in place, silencing him. His limbs froze, his voice trapped, though his mind raced.

"Show me your room," Gideon said, his voice low.

Sean's body obeyed, moving against his will, striding upstairs toward his study. Below, Aldridge introduced himself to Adrian, all smiles, as if nothing was amiss. Margaret and Jadeite, bustling in the kitchen, exchanged glances but stayed quiet—they knew Gideon wouldn't harm Sean, though worry lingered. Adrian, ever wary of Gideon's authority, seemed relieved to focus on Aldridge's pleasantries.

Jadeite's ears twitched. "Mr. Aldridge, about Sean…"

Aldridge waved a hand, calm. "No need to worry, sir," he said to Adrian. "Master Gideon doesn't care for the young master's stiff politeness. That little spell was just a nudge, nothing more. He likely wants a private word upstairs."

Adrian exhaled. "Good, good…" Despite his courage—once facing a wizard bare-handed to protect his family—Gideon's presence always unsettled him, a shadow of family authority.

In Sean's study, Gideon snapped his fingers, and the spell released. Sean stretched, grimacing. "What's this about, Grandfather?"

Gideon leaned against the desk, its surface cluttered with alchemy notes. "I can't stand that stiff politeness of yours. Every time you act like a perfect little host, I want to shake you up."

Sean slumped into his chair, rubbing his cheek. "Tch." He stayed silent, wary but curious.

Gideon stepped back, his tone shifting. "Tell me about Beauxbatons. What happened with that dark wizard after you?"

Sean shrugged, his voice casual but sharp. "I don't know. My friends and I fought back, collapsed a house in the chaos. We scattered. The wizard chased me through the forest, then vanished—probably got lost. If you want answers, ask your son, Barnabas. He sent the wizard, didn't he?"

Gideon's brow arched, a half-smile playing on his lips. "How do you know Barnabas was behind it? Did the wizard spill?"

"There was an accomplice at Beauxbatons," Sean said, meeting his gaze. "I caught him. He confessed—said the dark wizard was Barnabas's man."

Gideon nodded slowly. "Is that so?"

The air crackled with unspoken tension. Sean's story was tight, no loose ends, but Gideon's eyes gleamed—he wasn't fooled, and Sean knew it. Cunning little snake, Gideon thought.

You won't trap me that easily, Sean countered silently. Their smiles were mirror images, a Slytherin standoff, warm but laced with challenge.

Gideon's tone softened, but his words carried weight. "One more thing. Those notes I gave you—some of the magic in them isn't… respectable. Use them carefully. Never let anyone see. Some spells might look like a sudden collapse, hiding their magical trace, but there are sharp eyes out there. They'll spot clues. They might not catch you now, but they'll find your mistakes later."

Sean's pulse quickened, but he kept his face steady. Gideon was talking about the curse—the one from his notes that Sean had used on Tarquin, the Slytherin whose "sudden collapse" had raised whispers at Hogwarts. Sean wasn't shocked Gideon knew. The curse was Gideon's own, after all, buried in his cryptic journal. He'd recognize its mark, especially after Tarquin's death, tied to Sean's feud with him. A Slytherin's demise wasn't trivial; Gideon only needed the details and their shared history to piece it together.

Gideon watched Sean, a spark of amusement in his eyes. At home, surrounded by the Bulstrode family's weighty expectations, Gideon was a commanding figure, his presence enough to make his sons and grandsons nervous. But here, in Sean's modest home on Golden Tulip street, he could shed his formal role. Away from family duties, he was just Gideon—gruff, teasing, and unexpectedly warm. Sean, with his sharp wit and guarded smiles, brought out a side of him that rarely surfaced elsewhere.

Perhaps it was the distance from the Slytherin Brotherhood's schemes or the Bulstrode legacy's demands that let Gideon relax. Here, he could pinch Sean's cheek, cast a playful spell, and trade barbs without the shadow of power looming over them. It was a rare freedom, one he savored as the enchanted dusk deepened outside, the house glowing like a charmed haven.

In the kitchen, Jadeite worked swiftly, her house-elf magic transforming ingredients into a feast. Platters of roasted meats, golden potatoes, and steaming pies materialized, each dish infused with a subtle charm that made the aromas irresistible. She didn't stop at food—her wandless magic wove delicate decorations across the dining room. An enchanted tablecloth shimmered with faint stars, and candles floated above, casting a warm glow like miniature suns. The house felt alive, festive, as if ready for a Hogwarts feast.

Margaret called from the dining room, her voice bright. "Sean, Gideon, dinner's ready!"

Sean and Gideon descended the stairs, the tension from their earlier talk easing into the warmth of the moment. They joined Adrian and Margaret at the table, its surface laden with Jadeite's creations. Aldridge and Jadeite stood between the kitchen and dining room, poised to serve. Margaret, ever hospitable, urged Aldridge to join them. "There's plenty for everyone!"

Aldridge bowed slightly, his tone firm but kind. "Thank you, Mrs. Margaret, but I'll stay on duty." As a professional butler, he prided himself on his role, much like a Hogwarts house-elf guarding tradition.

The dinner was a triumph, the food as delightful as any Great Hall banquet. Jadeite's skill shone through—her cooking rivaled the best house-elves, a testament to her training under Gideon's household. Some elves were careless, others meticulous; Jadeite was a master, her dishes proof of her pride in service.

Sean savored a bite of pie, his thoughts drifting. He remembered hearing about a house-elf at Hogwarts—Dobby.

Unlike most elves, Dobby craved freedom, a rebel in a world bound by duty. Sean admired that spark, the courage to challenge fate. It resonated with his own quiet defiance, honed at Beauxbatons and sharpened by his clash with Tarquin. Freedom, he mused, was a fire worth kindling.

Gideon's voice broke his reverie. "This was a fine dinner, Margaret, if I may say. I enjoyed it thoroughly."

Margaret flushed, waving a hand. "Oh, it's all Jadeite's doing. I just helped a bit on the side."

Gideon's eyes twinkled. "Speaking of Jadeite, I've decided she'll stay here permanently. She's your house-elf now—a gift to your family."

Adrian started to protest. "Father, we don't need—"

Gideon cut him off, his tone final but warm. "It's settled. Jadeite answers to you now, and only you. I won't meddle with her tasks."

His gaze flicked to Sean, a silent message in his eyes. Sean caught it instantly—Gideon was ensuring Jadeite's loyalty lay with them, not subject to Bulstrode schemes or Barnabas's influence. It was a subtle protection, a nod to the dangers Sean faced, from Tarquin's curse to Barnabas's dark wizard.

Sean pursed his lips, meeting Gideon's eyes. "Thank you, Grandfather. We'll accept Jadeite."

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Author's Note:

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