Stealing Magic: A Darker Hogwarts

In Beauxbatons' grand auditorium, Sean sat at a long table, slicing into a juicy steak, the chatter of students a distant hum. The enchanted chandeliers cast a warm glow, but he felt a chill of isolation. Since Barre's betrayal, most students avoided him, their glances wary, as if he carried a cursed aura. Only Fleur still treated him like a friend.

Fleur approached, her silver-blonde hair catching the light like a Veela's charm. She slid onto the bench beside him, her presence a rare comfort. "Sean, Barre… how's it going?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.

Sean paused, fork hovering. "He tried to escape, but I caught him. He's likely being questioned by the Aurors now. Don't worry, I didn't hurt him."

Fleur's lips curved into a relieved smile, her blue eyes warm. "I'm not worried about him. I was afraid you'd act rashly in anger. I'm glad you stayed calm."

Her words eased the knot in his chest. Since Barre's arrest half a month ago, Sean's life at Beauxbatons had settled into a quiet routine—dormitory, auditorium, library. But the silence from others was deafening, a stark contrast to the camaraderie he'd once enjoyed. Only Fleur's loyalty and Schiller's occasional quips kept him grounded.

"Sean, Professor Maupassant asked me to tell you the compensation for Barre's incident has been finalized," Fleur said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sean's knife stilled mid-cut. He turned to her, brow furrowed. "Compensation? It's been weeks since Barre's arrest. Why now?"

Fleur leaned closer, her voice low. "Professor Maupassant said it's due to the process, but I heard your Bulstrode family pressured Beauxbatons. Didn't you know?"

Sean set down his knife and fork, a frown deepening. "No, I had no idea…"

He glanced at Aldridge, who stood discreetly nearby, ever the poised butler. "Aldridge, were you aware of this?"

Aldridge shook his head, his expression neutral. "No, Master. Since I've been with you, I'm not informed of some family matters."

Sean nodded, catching the subtle meaning. Aldridge was his butler now, loyal to him, not the broader Bulstrode clan. His ties to the family existed because Sean was a Bulstrode. If Sean ever left the family, Aldridge would follow him, not them. It was a reminder of the delicate balance Sean navigated within his own bloodline.

Turning back to Fleur, Sean asked, "Do you know what Beauxbatons is offering? If it's just Galleons, I'll be underwhelmed."

Fleur's smile returned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Not Galleons—books. Five alchemy texts from the fourth floor of the library. They're copies, not originals, but their knowledge is valuable enough."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Alchemy books? Even copies from the restricted section must be rare."

"They are," Fleur confirmed. "But there's a catch. You can't share them with any family, including the Bulstrodes, or with Hogwarts. You can give them to individuals, though, if you choose."

Sean's expression turned curious, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That's an odd restriction. Is there some rivalry between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts?"

Fleur tilted her head, considering. "Not exactly, but I heard something from my father. There's talk of reviving the Triwizard Tournament, a contest between Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, and Durmstrang's region. It was stopped years ago because too many champions died, but someone's pushing to bring it back, and it's gaining support."

Sean blinked, feigning surprise, though the rumor piqued his interest. The Triwizard Tournament was legendary, a tale from dusty history books. "I've heard of it, but it's ancient history. Any idea when it might happen?"

Fleur shrugged, her tone wry. "Two or three years, probably. You know how slow wizarding authorities are, whether in Hogwarts' region or ours."

Sean chuckled, the sound lighter than he'd felt in days. They chatted a while longer, the auditorium's enchanted glow softening the weight of their words. When their plates were empty, they headed to the library, wands tucked into their robes. The towering shelves loomed like silent sentinels, their books faintly shimmering as if charmed. They studied together, flipping through texts on charms and potions, their quiet companionship a balm against Sean's isolation.

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"Actually," Sean said, his voice steady but his eyes glinting with a challenge Fleur couldn't miss, "we've never sparred, have we? It'd help us learn each other's styles."

Barre had been no challenge, a mere stepping stone. But Fleur—graceful, skilled, and part-Veela—was different. Sean had heard whispers of the magical gifts Veela could bestow, whether through their charm or mastery of spells. What better way to test himself than a duel? It would measure his skill against hers, and, if he was honest, the thrill of facing her sparked something deeper.

Fleur's eyebrow arched, her gaze sharpening with curiosity. "You want to duel?"

Sean nodded, leaning closer, his tone light but eager. "It's good practice. Maybe I'll pick up something from you."

She studied him, then smiled—half-amused, half-intrigued. "Very well," she agreed, slipping off her outer robe with a fluid motion and setting it aside. "Standard dueling rules?"

"Standard rules," Sean confirmed, rolling up his sleeves as he stood. He followed her from the auditorium, his heart beating faster with anticipation.

They entered the dueling arena, a vast hall where enchanted barriers hummed with faint magic, like a charm left to linger. The stone floor bore scorch marks, remnants of past battles, like a prank gone awry. They faced each other, bowed formally, and raised their wands, each sizing up the other with careful focus.

Sean moved first, his wand cutting the air. "Expelliarmus!" The disarming spell shot toward Fleur, a red streak in the dim light. She deflected it with a casual flick, her Protego shimmering like a charmed veil.

Fleur countered with a complex charm, its light splitting into colorful strands that wove toward Sean like enchanted ribbons. His Protego absorbed most, but one strand slipped through, tugging at his sleeve. He adjusted his grip, unfazed, and pressed forward.

The duel began slowly, a dance of testing spells. Fleur's magic was elegant, precise, like a tapestry woven with light. Sean's was swift, efficient, honed by instinct and his Agile casting LV1. She admired his skill, but sensed he was holding back, and it sparked her competitive edge.

"Is this really your best?" she teased, her accent thickening as she unleashed a flurry of spells—Stupefy, Impedimenta, a blinding burst of light. "I expected more from you."

A spark flared in Sean's eyes, determination mixed with something fiercer. His spells quickened, unpredictable, forcing Fleur to parry with effort. A bead of sweat glistened at her temple—she hadn't expected him to adapt so fast.

Then, Sean did the unexpected. Mid-spell, he switched his wand to his left hand and lunged, closing the gap in two strides. Before Fleur could react, he tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her, his hand gripping her wand wrist.

The impact stole her breath. She stared up at him, his face inches away, his expression triumphant. For a moment, they froze, the shock of his move binding them. Sean could have used his Troll Strength to overpower her, but he held back, savoring her nearness, the thrill, the way her hair spread across the stone like silver starlight.

Fleur's instincts surged. She hooked her leg around his, shifted her weight, and flipped them with a deft twist. Now she straddled him, her knees pinning his arms, her wand at his throat.

"I win," she declared, breathless, her chest heaving from the effort.

Sean stared up, stunned by the reversal. His face flushed—not just from the duel. Pinned beneath her, their bodies close, he felt a rush of raw, teenage longing, an undeniable reaction he couldn't hide.

Fleur noticed but looked away, standing quickly and offering a hand. He took it, hesitant, brushing dust from his robes, avoiding her eyes.

"That was… unusual," she said, her tone light despite her racing pulse. "Where'd you learn that trick?"

Sean shrugged, catching his breath. "Magic's not always enough. Sometimes you need to surprise your opponent."

"True," she nodded, eyeing him with new respect. "Most wizards lean too much on their wands."

They stayed in the arena, dissecting the duel—spells, tactics, what worked, what didn't. Sean had hoped to gain a Veela gift, perhaps her charm or finesse, but he earned something less tangible: insight into her resilience, her quick wit. And a moment burned into his memory. They didn't part until they reached the dormitory corridor, their steps echoing in the quiet halls.

Fleur paused, pursing her lips, then spoke suddenly. "Sean, have you ever thought Beauxbatons might suit you better? You're gifted in alchemy, and we excel in potions and Transfiguration. Maybe…" She stopped, a smile breaking through, and laughed. "I'm joking. Good night."

Sean watched her turn to leave, her words lingering. He hesitated, then called out, "Fleur…"

She turned back, her bright smile tinged with curiosity. "What, Sean?"

He faltered, the weight of his departure from Beauxbatons looming. He didn't want to stir complications now. "Nothing. Good night," he said, a faint smile hiding his thoughts. Maybe he'd wait a bit longer before saying more.

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