0326 A Stupid Mistake
Bryan stared at the magical creature trading place, where the screeches of Fwooper birds, the blasting sounds of wizards attacking each other nearby, and the continuous curses from farther away filled the air. His purple eyes glead with surprise.
But for Bryan, amidst this seeming chaos, a flash of sheer brilliance struck his mind like a bolt of lightning, illuminating a path forward. For nearly ten months since obtaining the manuscript detailing the Blood Curse, he had tirelessly conducted countless experints, each one ending in failure more frustrating than the last. Determined to unravel the cause of these setbacks, he had ticulously deduced and analyzed the curse's intricate spell configuration, turned over every scrap of information collected from the remnants of the manuscript, yet no matter how painstakingly he approached the task, his efforts yielded no tangible results.
But now, he thought of a possibility.
Initially, before embarking on his first experint, he had invested the bulk of his Galleons with Kakus to find information related to Druidism. To save on experintal costs, he had used weak, ordinary creatures as experintal materials.
Ordinarily, such a choice should not have impacted the experintal outcos, yet Bryan had accidentally overlooked a crucial aspect – the very essence of the Blood Curse's potency lay rooted in the soul of the living being itself, and the feeble souls of these ordinary creatures were incapable of bearing the imnse weight of Bryan's magical power.
Subsequently, at the critical juncture of each experint, the fragile soul acting as the vessel for the curse would dissipate, crumbling under the imnse strain, leading inevitably to the failure of the entire endeavor. Although this revelation remained a re conjecture, Bryan could be certain that this oversight was undoubtedly the root cause behind his persistent lack of success.
"What a stupid mistake,"
Bryan murmured, shaking his head in a mixture of self-deprecating laughter and disbelief at his own ignorance.
Yet, in truth, this was the inherent nature of magical experintation – a single, seemingly insignificant error could precipitate total and utter failure. And for soone like Bryan, a wizard with profound magical knowledge and prowess, it was all too easy to attribute setbacks to the more challenging and obscure aspects, overlooking the seemingly obvious pitfalls that even those of lesser skill might easily discern.
This, then, was the insidious nature of the knowledge barrier, a treacherous obstacle that had ensnared even the most accomplished of magical researchers and wizards.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The sudden silence that descended upon the chaotic marketplace was as abrupt as it was unnerving. A brilliant, crimson orb had soared skyward, and beneath the cold, appraising gazes of countless onlookers, it detonated in a dazzling burst of searing red light. The Fwooper birds, their cages now disturbingly still, and the bewildered wizards who had fallen victim to the Stupefy spell, their bodies crumpled lifelessly to the ground, were rendered utterly silent, a stark contrast to the pandemonium that had reigned re monts before.
"What price do you plan to sell these Fwooper birds for?" Bryan inquired, his voice laced with casual indifference as he turned his attention to the Uagadou wizard whose body was adorned with vibrant, intricately painted totemic designs.
The Uagadou wizard, his eyes still glazed with lingering bewildernt, required several long monts to fully comprehend the events that had recently unfolded. Finally, he sprang to his feet, shining with rage, and lashed out violently, delivering a vicious kick to the cage containing the Fwooper birds, unleashing a torrent of curses and profanities that seed to pour forth from the very depths of his being. It was a considerable span of ti before the wizard regained a semblance of composure.
"Are you... Mr. -Viper?" he ventured, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and wariness.
This Uagadou wizard was a habitual smuggler. It did not take him long to recognize the distinct mask of, the legendary bounty hunter--Golden Viper, and his eyes imdiately ignited with the flickering flas of opportunity and greed.
In the shadowy realm of the underground, reputation was inextricably intertwined with wealth and power, and Golden Viper, with his exceptional skills and an astoundingly high commission success rate, was renowned as a figure of near-mythic proportions. A bounty hunter of such caliber, the smuggler guessed, must possess unfathomable wealth.
"Five hundred Galleons each, Mr. Viper," the Uagadou wizard said, his tone now oily and fawning, a stark contrast to his earlier fury. "There are six in total here. If you're willing to buy them all, I can offer you a ten percent discount!"
Sensing the chilling aura of nace that seed to emanate from the very essence of the Viper, the Uagadou wizard hastily added, his words tumbling forth in a desperate torrent, "You can't imagine the effort I had to go through to get these lively little creatures here, Mr. Viper. The British Ministry of Magic has banned the use of flying carpets, and I was caught by the patrol squad when I landed, spending a fortune to let them release . So, price-wise—"
"One thousand five hundred--" Bryan interjected, his voice unhurried and dismissive as he casually cut off the wizard's rambling, stating a price that, while reasonable, allowed no negotiation. "If you don't agree, I'll let you lie there for a while longer."
And with those words, the deal was amicably settled, the Uagadou wizard wisely recognizing the futility of further haggling with the fearso Golden Viper.
With the curse vessel materials now secured, Bryan's attention turned to the next crucial component – a recipient for the curse itself, preferably an intelligent magical creature capable of withstanding the imnse strain of the ritual. The group of dosticated house-elves that had been terrified by the earlier commotion had not yet returned to the underworld, leaving Bryan with a limited array of choices in the current magical creature market. Aside from the reclusive centaurs, the only intelligent magical creatures readily available were the enigmatic Veelas and the mischievous Irish Leprechauns.
"If only I had kept a few Werewolves--" Bryan muttered to himself, his gaze flickering between the three distinct magical species as he collected the Fwooper birds, hesitation etched into the outlines of his expression.
He had recently established an uncertain yet friendly relationship with the centaurs dwelling within the Forbidden Forest, and unless absolutely necessary, Bryan harbored no desire to stain his hands with the blood of their kin, a prospect that filled him with a sense of unease. The Veela, on the other hand, represented the optimal choice, for one of their two transformative forms possessed a soul quality remarkably akin to that of wizards themselves. Yet it was for this very reason that Bryan hesitated, his resolve wavering as he contemplated before sparing the already tragic plight of these beings.
Leprechauns, however, were equally coveted in the underground world, their popularity stemming directly from their innate tendency for 'trickery' and deception.
Although incapable of deceiving the cunning goblins of Gringotts, and with most large alchemy workshops and companies possessing ans to discern the authenticity of Galleons, there remained a vast horde of ordinary citizens in the wizarding world who lacked such sharp eyes and discerning judgnt. The underworld was a cesspool packed with scoundrels and charlatans who would stop at nothing to deceive and swindle the unsuspecting. An Irish Leprechaun's talents could yield profits that would dwarf the earnings from several dium-scale-difficulty commission tasks combined.
After parting with another two thousand 'hard-earned' Galleons, Bryan at last had assembled all the necessary high-quality "experintal materials" required for his ambitious experint. The final prerequisite was the identification of a suitably secluded place in which he could conduct the potentially unpredictable experint, far from prying eyes and interference.
The hotel where he had taken up temporary residence of late was unsuitable for such experints. The uproar caused by that Rita Skeeter, and her ddling had already made Bryan rather unwelco at the hotel. After weighing the advantages of the Shrieking Shack against those of the Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Bryan ultimately cast his decision in favor of the latter. The ancient Black family manor, though steeped in a legacy of darkness, possessed many layers of robust magical wards and defensive spells. So, even if sothing went wrong, at least it wouldn't be exposed.
Bang!
The nauseating, dizzying spin through the swirling gray void of spatial turbulence concluded as abruptly as it had begun, dumping Bryan with a steady pace in the narrow corridor behind the door of the Black Manor – or rather, the Watson Manor, as it could now be rightfully called. Before he could shake off his bewildernt at the clean, well-lit corridor before him, a shrill, malicious voice assaulted his ears, emanating from a source he knew all too well.
"Despicable, shaless thief, lowly, filthy Mudblood, how dare you—"
Crash!
The high-pitched torrent of venom ceased as abruptly as it had begun, the scathing attack cut short by a surprised scream that reverberated through the corridor.
"Master Watson!"
Kreacher, the Black family's devoted house-elf, his fleshy nose adorned with a shining string of snot bubbles, scurried towards Bryan with a comically exaggerated wobble, coming to an abrupt halt before him. The elf's bulging eyes shone with a mixture of reverence and unconcealed devotion as he addressed his new master.
"Kreacher has been wondering when he would get to lay eyes upon you once more, Master Watson. Is there anything this humble servant can do to be of service to the great Master Watson?" The elf's raspy tones were covered with an earnestness that bordered on the syrupy feeling.
Ever since that fateful night when Bryan, alongside Remus and Sirius, had brought back Regulus's body from the depths of the cave where Voldemort had hidden one of his Horcruxes, the house-elf, who had previously displayed nothing but open hostility toward the trio, had undergone a profound transformation. Remus believed that Kreacher's newfound attitude stemd from a sense of gratitude, yet Bryan could not shake the conviction that the power he had showed that night played a pivotal role in the elf's sudden change in behaviors.
"Oh, Kreacher, it's you—" Bryan showed a faint smile, brushing past the elf as he remarked with casual indifference, "Catching up with your old master?"
"The old mistress has been in low spirits lately, Master Watson," Kreacher confided, scurrying obediently towards Bryan as he spoke in hushed, cautious tones. "For all these years, the old mistress had clung to the hope that Master Regulus had rely run away from ho. But ever since you and Master Sirius brought back Master Regulus's body, she has been forced to confront the harsh reality and can no longer deceive herself."
It was, indeed, a tragic affair. Out of respect for the fallen Regulus and his brother Sirius, Bryan decided to allow the portrait of the late Walburga Black a few more days of despairing existence upon the wall before ultimately removing it from his sight.
Pushing open the door at the end of the corridor, Bryan climbed the stairs, intending to return to his forr room to rest and recuperate, allowing himself to recover to optimal condition before embarking upon the experintal work that lay ahead. Kreacher followed dutifully behind him, cautiously observing him, as if there was sothing he wanted to ask but dared not overstep.
"Oh, by the way--" Bryan said, pausing before entering his room as he turned his gaze downward to et Kreacher's expectant stare. A faint smile played across his lips as he addressed the elf in a gentle tone, "I almost forgot, Kreacher. I have two pieces of good news to share with you."
*******************************
For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy
Reviews
All reviews (0)