Stealing Magic: A Darker Hogwarts

The morning sun cast a golden glow over Golden Tulip street, the protective charms on Sean's home shimmering faintly. At the front door, Sean stood with his parents, Margaret and Adrian, who were dressed for a rare day out together.

"Sean, are you sure you don't want us to come with you?" Margaret asked, her voice warm but tinged with concern.

"No need," Sean replied, smiling. "You two go enjoy the movie. Aldridge will stick with me."

Margaret nodded, reassured. "Alright, then. Thank you, Aldridge, for looking after him."

"It's my duty, Mrs. Margaret," Aldridge said with a slight bow, his tone steady as always.

Sean waved as his parents' charmed car pulled away, its engine humming softly under a Silencing Charm. He turned to Aldridge, adjusting his cloak. "Right, let's head to Diagon Alley. This year's book list is long—best get the books early and get back home."

The list, delivered by Talon that morning, was heavy with titles by Gilderoy Lockhart. Sean smirked, picturing the flamboyant wizard's grinning face on every cover. Lockhart, he guessed, had taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts to boost his fading book sales, using his new professor status to polish his reputation. It was a classic move—flashy, like a poorly cast Lumos.

Still, Sean welcomed Lockhart's arrival. The man's knack for Memory Charms was legendary, likely mastered to a degree few could match. Better yet, Lockhart seemed… manageable, less formidable than other professors. Sean's mind raced with possibilities—could he learn from Lockhart's skills, maybe even pick up a trick or two? It would take careful planning, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. His Troll Strength and Agile casting LV1 had served him well, but a Memory Charm could be a game-changer.

Sean and Aldridge arrived at Diagon Alley early, the cobblestones glowing under enchanted lanterns despite the daylight. The street was quieter than usual, with only a few witches and wizards browsing. Sean moved quickly, his list guiding him. At Madam Malkin's, he ordered a new robe, the fabric charmed to fit perfectly. At Flourish and Blotts, he grabbed Lockhart's books, their covers glittering with self-congratulatory titles. He lingered briefly, flipping through Break with a Banshee, half-curious if Lockhart's tales held any real magic.

Next, he visited Ollivander's, where his wand received a quick polish, its hawthorn wood gleaming like new. At the Magical Menagerie, he stocked up on snake food for Kurkan, choosing treats that wouldn't rile his finicky pet. The shop's chatter—screeching owls, hissing toads—reminded him of Kurkan's quiet loyalty, a contrast to the chaos of Diagon Alley.

With everything tucked into Aldridge's bag, charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm, they stepped out of the alley in under two hours. Sean glanced around, surprised. "It's quieter than I expected."

"We came early, Master," Aldridge replied, scanning the street with his usual vigilance.

Sean nodded. "Fair enough. Let's head back. I've got a week to relax before Hogwarts."

They turned toward the spot where the Knight Bus would pick them up, its purple bulk likely to appear with a bang any moment. But before they could move, a young woman stepped into their path. Her attire mirrored Aldridge's—formal, crisp, with a hint of magical tailoring. Sean tensed, and Aldridge instinctively moved in front, his hand hovering near his wand. One wrong move, and he'd have a spell ready faster than a Firebolt.

"Daisha," Aldridge said, his voice low. "What are you doing here?"

Daisha's expression was calm, professional. "I'm here to invite Master Sean to meet my master."

Sean's eyes narrowed. Master? The word echoed Aldridge's own term for him. Daisha was a butler, like Aldridge, and her master could only be one person—Barnabas, Gideon's scheming son, the one behind the Beauxbatons dark wizard and Tarquin's feud.

"No thanks," Sean said, his tone flat. "I'm heading home to study."

As he turned to leave, Daisha stepped forward, her voice insistent but polite. "My master is at the Leaky Cauldron, just nearby. You've no cause to fear him."

Sean paused, frowning. A few passersby were glancing their way, their curiosity prickling like a misfired hex. Drawing more attention wasn't ideal, especially with Barnabas involved. Sean's mind churned—Barnabas, the man who'd sent a dark wizard after him, who'd fueled Tarquin's conflict. What was his game now? Ignoring him might be safer, but knowing his next move could be smarter. Besides, the Leaky Cauldron was public, crowded. Barnabas wouldn't dare try anything overt.

"Fine," Sean said, his voice cool. "Let's see what Barnabas wants."

Daisha's lips tightened as Sean casually said "Barnabas," her eyes flashing with disapproval at his lack of formality. But she held her tongue, turning with a crisp gesture to lead them into the Leaky Cauldron. The pub's dim interior buzzed with low chatter, the air thick with the scent of butterbeer and enchanted tankards that refilled themselves. A few patrons glanced up, their curiosity prickling.

Sean and Aldridge followed Daisha to a shadowed corner where Barnabas sat, sipping a drink that shimmered faintly, as if laced with a charm.

"Master, Master Sean has arrived," Daisha announced, her voice steady.

Barnabas waved a hand, dismissing her with a flick. Daisha stepped to his side, silent but alert, her posture mirroring Aldridge's quiet vigilance. Sean slid into the seat across from Barnabas, his expression cool. Neither spoke at first, the silence heavy. Barnabas's gaze drifted to Aldridge, a flicker of regret crossing his face.

"Aldridge," Barnabas said, his tone almost mournful, "is this the boy you chose to follow after turning me down? Or did my father force your hand?"

Aldridge stood straight, unflinching. "Mr. Barnabas, when Master Gideon approached me, he made it clear I could choose freely. Serving Master Sean was my decision, made after careful thought. The master didn't pressure me."

Barnabas sighed, swirling his drink. "Such a pity."

His regret seemed genuine, but Sean barely noticed, stifling a yawn. To him, Barnabas's disappointment was trivial. He leaned forward, his voice blunt. "What do you want, Barnabas? Let's make this quick. I reckon your opinion of me matches mine of you—every second we're here, I'm itching to leave."

Barnabas paused mid-sip, his brow furrowing. He set his tankard down with a deliberate thud, the sound sharp in the pub's hum. "It seems my brother never taught you manners."

Sean smirked, unfazed. "And it seems your grandfather skipped the lesson on decency."

Barnabas's eyes narrowed, his stare lingering on Sean like a Legilimens probing for weakness. After a long moment, he grinned, a cold, sneering edge to it. "Sharp-tongued, aren't you?"

"Barnabas, we both know the score," Sean said, his voice low but firm. "You're aware of what I've done, and I know what you've pulled—sending that dark wizard, stirring up trouble. We're not friends, not family. We're enemies. You want me gone, and I'd love to see you taken down. So, spit it out. What's this meeting about? I'd rather not sit here any longer, tempted to take you down like Adrian did last time. That'd be a bit improper, don't you think?"

At the mention of Adrian's infamous thrashing—when Sean's father had floored Barnabas in a pure-blood spat—Barnabas's face darkened. That humiliating tale had spread through wizarding circles, whispered over cauldrons and retold as a jest at pure-blood gatherings. Sean's jab struck deep, and for a moment, Barnabas's composure cracked, his hand twitching as if reaching for his wand.

"Are you trying to provoke me, you little pest?" Barnabas snapped, his voice a low growl.

Sean leaned back, grinning. "Now that's more like it. We're not here to play nice. You want me dead, and I'd rather see you out of my way. So, say what you came to say, and don't waste my time."

Barnabas exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. His calm returned, though his eyes glinted with malice. "I'm offering you one last chance—a way to stay alive. I'll give you two shops and a share of the family business. In return, you leave for a far-off wizarding community. I'll handle the transfer paperwork. Agree, and it's all yours. I'll leave you alone. If you doubt me, I'll sign a magical contract to seal it. What do you say?"

Sean met Barnabas's gaze, his lips curling into a chuckle. "Are you done?"

Barnabas blinked, thrown off. "What?"

Sean stood, brushing off his cloak. "Sounds like you've said your piece. I'm leaving. Goodbye, my dear uncle."

Barnabas's face darkened as Sean turned away, his voice dropping to a menacing rumble. "You don't realize what you're turning down—or what's coming for you."

Sean didn't look back. He raised his right hand, gave Barnabas a middle finger, then pushed the door and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron. stepping into the daylight.

What a warm and charming family chat!

----------------