"Aegis Aurum!"

  A golden dome materialized around me once again. I gritted my teeth and concentrated, trying to reinforce it and saturate it with magic. I wanted it to function as a perfect barrier against everything. Unfortunately, the spell failed again. Or more precisely, it half-failed.

  Aegis Aurum was supposed to be an impenetrable shield protecting me from all sides. The problem was that mine had holes; some parts of the dome were visibly more transparent than the rest. Did it mean my focus was wavering? Or was I not pumping enough magic into it?

  Fuck, I wasn't sure, and honestly, defensive magic never really entertained me. The best defense is a good offense, but that had one catch—I still hadn't found the Room of Requirement where I could safely start practicing Reducto.

  Sure, I remembered it should be on the seventh floor, but where the fuck exactly? The seventh floor was massive and full of dead ends. I was walking up and down there like a total wanker, and the result was zero. The room was supposed to appear only to someone who truly needed it, but apparently, my "I want to blow something up properly" wasn't a noble enough reason for the castle.

  I was back in our classroom. While the others drilled duels and Occlumency, I failed repeatedly. Occasionally, I felt their admiring glances—the golden defensive dome was undoubtedly a powerful show for them—but I was far from satisfied. I was beginning to understand why most wizards settled for a simple Protego. It was just easier.

  "Aegis Aurum!" I shouted again.

  This time, I poured double the power into the spell. The result? The dome still had its transparent cracks, and the parts that were solid before grew even thicker under the pressure of the new force. So, did that mean the problem wasn't a lack of power, but focus? Imagination?

  Frustration grew. I had an hour left until my meeting with Bones, and I no longer had the nerves for this training. Fuck it.

  I headed toward the others and just caught a snippet of their conversation.

  "Why shouldn't I have the same shield as you?" Agnes was asking.

  Theodore saw me coming, but Agnes and Tobias were sitting with their backs to me. I decided to answer before Theo could get a word in.

  "To put it simply: if everyone had the same Occlumency, an enemy would eventually find a universal back door and weak spots to penetrate your mind. Every mind is unique. Some need absolute order; others feel best in chaos. You have to choose what is natural to your nature."

  Both turned toward me with a startled jerk.

  "And what kind of Occlumency do you have?" Agnes blurted out before she could engage her filter.

  "Agnes! That is confidential information; you shouldn't ask that," Theo snapped at her immediately.

  Theodore was right. In our world, it wasn't wise to share information that could harm you in the future. But honestly? Everything depended on the type of defense. Many had only common, dull barriers with known weaknesses that could be breached with a bit of effort.

  But me? My defense was extremely exotic. I doubted it would help anyone at all to know exactly what awaited them in my mind. That was precisely why I decided to answer without concern.

  "Hmm, imagine a stormy sea and lightning. Either a person drowns, or they get fried by an electrical discharge," I replied with an amused smile.

  "Elemental Occlumency? That's considered a myth!" Theo blurted out, unmistakable awe in his voice.

  I just shrugged indifferently.

  "I started learning Occlumency on my own, and naturally, since I grew up in an orphanage. If a wizard doesn't know something is impossible, it immediately becomes possible for them. I feel natural in rain, water, and storms. It made sense to me to use these elements, and it turned out to be a great choice."

  I paused for a moment, then looked directly at Agnes. "Based on your behavior, if I were you, I’d try fire instead of a standard defense. You're quite the spitfire, Agnes. Flames would suit your nature better."

  "And by the way, it’s not a myth. I doubt the Dark Lord or Dumbledore have just ordinary walls or labyrinths in their minds," I added quickly when I caught Theodore's disbelieving look.

  Theo just nodded slowly, as if trying to process this new reality. Meanwhile, Agnes muttered under her breath, "Fire... right, fire." A dangerous spark flickered in her eyes.

  However, I decided to move on to the topic that interested me most at the moment. I needed money. Not urgently, but a few extra Galleons would definitely come in handy. I had to start building capital because money means power. In the wizarding world, perhaps a bit less so than in the Muggle one, but it's still true that money makes the world go round.

  It occurred to me to sell a ritual to someone who is rich, young, and who would profit from it the most. Someone with full vaults but absolutely no knowledge of how magical society works. Moreover, the possibility of casting spells legally even during the summer would be irresistible to such a person. You can probably guess who I’m talking about.

  "What can you tell me about the Potter family?" I suddenly asked all three of them.

  Agnes immediately looked at Theodore, silently yielding the floor to him. She saw that Theo had sunk into deep thought. When I gave her an inquiring look, she leaned toward me and said:

  "We all know their family, but it's a bit of an open secret that Theo's grandfather wrote the book Sacred Twenty-Eight. As an expert, he should be the one to speak."

  Theo straightened up, determination flashing in his eyes, and began to speak in the tone of someone leafing through forbidden chronicles:

  "Well, look... officially I’m not admitting anything, nobody knows who wrote that book," he paused for a moment and then continued. "The Potter family, hmm... originated sometime in the twelfth century. The founder was Linfred of Stinchcombe, an extremely respected Potions Master. He invented several healing concoctions and over time earned the nickname 'Potterer,' which was later shortened to Potter. Thanks to revolutionary potions, they acquired vast wealth. They have always been neutral, though friendly toward Muggles. Historically, they fought for what they considered morally right. They even supported dark lords once—who, of course, became the light ones in history after victory. That's why they are considered a neutral family."

  He paused for a moment to take a breath and then added:

  "According to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they don't belong among the 'Sacred,' even though they are pure-bloods. It’s a similar situation to Crabbe or Goyle—they have surnames that are too common and occur in the Muggle world as well, which is why my... I mean, the author didn't include them in the list. However, they still have a seat in the Wizengamot and are disgustingly rich. If I remember correctly, the 'Golden Boy's' grandfather was another brilliant potioneer and supposedly multiplied the family fortune even further. So, in short: a warrior family, masters of potions, and a family that follows its own principles. They fought only for what they believed in, even if they had to stand against the whole world."

  "If they are so rich, then why does Potter walk around in those huge, ragged things when he's not wearing his robes?" Agnes asked with blatant disgust in her voice.

  Theo just shrugged as if it were an irrelevant mystery to him, but I decided to answer directly.

  "Potter didn't grow up in the magical world, Agnes. He was raised by filthy Muggles," I replied coldly.

  Agnes stared at me in surprise, and Theo just nodded quietly, as if this information finally fit the puzzle of the "Boy Who Lived."

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  "I need to meet with him. Without witnesses," I said into the silence. "Agnes, can you get him here somehow? I have an offer for him."

  After a moment's thought, she nodded. "I can try, though he hardly moves an inch away from Weasley and Granger."

  "Do you want to involve him in our training?" Theo asked, doubt audible in his voice. "His spells are powerful, I'll give him that."

  I shook my head in disagreement. "No. He’s exactly in the middle between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. I’ll offer him a small deal. I make a profit, he gains an advantage—if he accepts it, of course. And maybe I’ll motivate him a bit for the future, in case he happens to become a valuable ally. It’s a shame for the heir of such a powerful family to know nothing about his ancestors and walk around ragged, even though he has a fortune in the bank."

  "Good. I was worried what our parents would say if they found out we were training with the Golden Boy," Tobias finally spoke into the silence.

  I nodded in agreement. Each of us had parents who were or still are Death Eaters. The risk was too high.

  "Alright, I’m off. I’m meeting Bones in fifteen minutes; I don’t want to be late," I said goodbye and headed for the door.

  "Good luck!" Agnes called out after me.

  I entered the Great Hall. At this time, it was yawning with emptiness, which suited me. I had three minutes to spare, so I sat down comfortably and waited until the silence of the room was broken.

  Precisely at five, the doors opened with a muffled creak. Snape walked in, and in his wake trailed a young witch with a stern expression. I noticed that a gray strand shimmered here and there in her dark hair—likely a toll for the stress at the Ministry, as she could have been in her late thirties. She wore no makeup but appeared neat and elegant in a high-quality, tastefully tailored robe.

  This was exactly how I imagined a fair and successful woman in government. Unfortunately, she was just one of many in this corrupt system.

  Snape’s gaze swept across the hall and stopped on me, cold and unreadable as ever. The woman stopped a few steps from my table and sized me up with a look that mixed professional curiosity with bureaucratic detachment.

  "Good afternoon," I greeted politely first as they approached.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Rosier. My name is Amelia Bones. I sent you an owl with information about my visit," she replied and immediately turned to the professor. "You may go, Professor Snape. This is a private investigation."

  Snape, however, replied in his typically silky, cold voice, as if he had expected such an attitude: "Mr. Rosier is a minor. In the event that he does not have a family member with him, I am obligated to be here as supervision and support," he paused for a moment and fixed his black eyes on me. "Of course, if the minor so wishes."

  Bones knew he was right, and though reluctantly, she accepted it and sat down. I, however, faced a dilemma. I trusted Bones when it came to a sense of justice and discretion, but Snape was too big a risk for me at the moment. I didn't plan to initiate him into my magical sensitivity, which I wanted to rely on with Madam Bones. Even if Dumbledore likely already knew about it, Voldemort didn't. And Snape was a bridge through which this information could leak to the wrong side.

  "Thank you, Professor Snape, but your presence will not be necessary," I said, looking him directly in the eyes with a grateful smile. Using Legilimency, I sent him a clear feeling of gratitude so he would understand that I appreciated his gesture of help, but needed privacy.

  He understood. He gave a short nod, his robes billowing behind him as he made a slow exit from the hall.

  Bones stared at me in surprise. She hadn't expected the son of a feared Death Eater to stay alone with her calmly, and at his own request.

  I wondered what was going on inside her at that moment. What must it have felt like when half her family was slaughtered by Lord Voldemort—the man my father faithfully followed? She must have seen in my features the face of a man who stood on the opposite side of the barricade. Despite that, there was no hatred in her gaze, rather a deep, professional caution.

  "You have courage, Mr. Rosier," she said after a while, her voice steady, though a bit quieter than before. "Many people in your position would demand Professor Snape’s presence. Perhaps they suspect that the Ministry doesn't exactly have the friendliest relationship with your name."

  "Justice doesn't need supervision, Madam Bones. And I believe that is exactly what brought you here," I answered calmly.

  There was a moment of silence while Bones observed me searchingly. Finally, she decided to break it.

  "We received a confession from Pettigrew to all his actions. Veritaserum was very helpful, and Sirius Black is already at St. Mungo's. It looks like all the damage Azkaban did to him can be undone with the help of the right potion treatment. You acted like a hero, Mr. Rosier. I am surprised, however, that you handed a Death Eater over to the Ministry when your father was one of them."

  Though she spoke matter-of-factly, I felt an unspoken question in her voice. I decided to answer directly.

  "I am not my father," I shrugged. "Sirius Black didn't deserve to suffer in Azkaban for his loyalty to the Potters. Honestly, I feel a great aversion toward traitors and cowards."

  I noticed a faint, almost imperceptible smile appear on her face after my answer.

  "How did you know it was Pettigrew?"

  "I saw Ron Weasley's rat up close in the library. Coincidentally, he was missing exactly the part that was found at the scene of Pettigrew's supposed death. At first, I had no idea who it was, but it kept bugging me until I remembered old articles. An issue of the Daily Prophet then only confirmed my suspicions."

  She nodded with understanding but immediately followed up with another question. "And how did you know it wasn't just an ordinary rat?"

  "My answer is a family secret. I would be reluctant for it to reach anyone else," I replied seriously.

  Amelia thought for a moment. "In the event that it doesn't significantly affect anything and isn't dangerous, you can count on me, Mr. Rosier, to keep it to myself. It won't be part of the official investigation file," she promised in a firm voice.

  I trusted her character, and therefore, I admitted without hesitation: "I am magically sensitive."

  I saw understanding flash in her eyes, so I continued. "That rat stank like a wizard. It disgusted me immediately when I saw Weasley catching him and carrying him in his robes. Who knows what all he did in that household over the years."

  A barely suppressed anger appeared in Amelia's eyes.

  "That is still a subject of investigation and, unfortunately, another serious crime against the Weasley family."

  "Hmm, so he probably didn't just eat and sleep there," I thought angrily, but outwardly I just nodded understandingly.

  "And how did the capture go?" she asked.

  "Fred and George Weasley helped me with that. I confided my suspicions to them, and they were persuaded. They took the rat from Ron in the library. Their help was crucial in his capture," I answered honestly.

  Bones reflected for a moment. "Your family can be proud of you, Mr. Rosier. Another would have concealed the merits of others," she paused for a moment and added: "Minister Fudge has nominated you for the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and the associated financial reward. I will try to arrange a reward for the Weasleys who helped you as well."

  The money was perfect for me, but I didn't care for the award—it would only mean unnecessary attention. Therefore, I decided to ask: "Could one accept only the financial reward? I have no interest in any public honors that would draw unwanted attention to my person. I’m sure you understand that thanks to my father, I am in a rather... interesting position."

  Amelia immediately realized where I was going with that. "It is possible to accept the award and remain anonymous. A ceremonial mask is used during the ceremony, so the public will not learn your name."

  Uncle Malfoy would, of course, know immediately who it was, but the general public wouldn't. There was nothing to be done, so I just nodded.

  "Does anything else come to mind, Mr. Rosier?"

  I shook my head in disagreement. I didn't plan to mention Voldemort's presence at Hogwarts to her.

  Bones stood up and began smoothing her clothes, speaking with a faint smile: "Thank you, Mr. Rosier, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. You have shown great courage and a sense of justice in catching a killer and freeing the wrongfully convicted Sirius Black. Mr. Black is now in your debt and will be informed of your merits. After the case is closed, we will inform you regarding the reward."

  She paused for a moment and added in a quieter, almost personal voice: "Your family can be rightfully proud of you. If you maintain this moral compass, I would be happy to welcome you into the Auror Corps in the future and will be your personal sponsor."

  It was a huge compliment. Having a sponsor from someone so high-ranking in the Department of Law Enforcement practically meant skipping selection procedures and demanding tests—they would place me in the academy immediately. A great shame that a career as a lawman wasn't what I desired. Of course, I didn't let that show.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Bones, I appreciate it immensely," I thanked her with a smile and politely said goodbye.

  As I left the hall, more plans were already spinning in my head. I have to go back to the classroom and practice Aegis Aurum again. However, I need to find the Room of Requirement as soon as possible so I can safely move on to practicing more destructive magic. It occurred to me that I could give searching for that room as a task to Agnes. She has exactly the right passion for such... challenges. While she scours the seventh floor, I’ll be able to fully concentrate on magical training.

  It was Friday, the last period of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

  Quirrell, of course, was explaining stutteringly and boringly how sunlight and daytime are the enemies of most vampires. While turned and common vampires couldn't be in the sun because it immediately incinerated them, pure-bloods with a long lineage could withstand daylight for a certain time. Here, blood purity played a direct role in their power and resilience. If Quirrell didn't stutter so damn much, it would be quite interesting.

  Throughout the lesson, however, he kept throwing strange looks at me, and I was starting to suspect that he would call me over after it ended. Voldemort was an intelligent wizard and couldn't have missed the Daily Prophet or Bones's subsequent visit to Hogwarts. It probably didn't take him long to figure out that she came specifically for me. A simple deduction was enough, and he must have known that I was responsible for Pettigrew’s capture.

  And so it happened. As soon as he ended the lesson, he added dryly toward me: "Mr. Rosier, a word."

  I signaled to the others to go ahead. Since it wasn't the first time I stayed behind with Quirrell after class, it didn't seem strange to anyone. I, however, was on maximum alert, feeling a sharp rush of adrenaline. Would it be a fight, or just a calm conversation?

  With a gesture of his hand, he navigated me to the back of the classroom where he had his private chambers. He sat behind a massive desk and invited me to sit opposite him.

  "Tea?" he asked politely. I just shook my head.

  I had no intention of risking Veritaserum.

  Author’s note:

  Aegis Aurum continues to be a bit of a headache for our MC—are you guys even surprised? High-level magic is hard.

  And finally, we have that "oh shit" moment with Voldemort. What do you think is coming next?

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  Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:

  34. The Greater Good's Echo

  35. Memory: Dumbledore vs Grindelwald

  36. The Bitterest Ink

  37. The First Blood

  38. The Black Legacy

  39. HP: The Boy Invisible

  40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things

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