The fire in Eira’s study crackled with life, and beside it, She sat reclined in her high-backed leather chair, sipping a cup of spiced tea. The sa expression she’d worn two days prior—cool, composed, thoughtful—still rested on her face.
The door opened softly.
Emma stepped in, boots dusted with lting snow, her coat lined with travel enchantnts. In her hand, she carried a single folded copy of the Le Monde Magique, the French wizarding paper with international editions. The front page shimred faintly with magical ink.
"Good morning, my lady," Emma said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Thought you’d like to see today’s headlines."
Eira gestured with her cup. "Put it here."
Emma laid the newspaper flat on the low oak table between them and smoothed it open. The headlines glead in bold enchanted script:
SHIPPING SCANDALS SHAKE TRÉVÉR HOLDINGS — ARICAN PORTS DEMAND INVESTIGATION
Multiple Arican import partners suspend contracts with Maison Trévér
Rumors of cursed goods spark panic — Are French exports compromised?
Eira leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly as she scanned the article. Paragraph by paragraph, the details unfolded like a gift:
• A shipnt of wand cores from the Trévér family arriving in New York was found to emit unstable magical energy.
• Alchemists in Boston refused to certify a crate of potions due to contamination fears.
• Argentinian buyers terminated three contracts overnight, citing a "lack of quality control."
Ministry officials on both sides of the Atlantic were "concerned" and "looking into it." anwhile, the Trévérs had yet to respond formally.
Eira raised a brow. "I thought it would take months for the pressure to build."
Emma smirked, dropping into the armchair opposite her. "My lady, when you spend enough galleons, the wheel spins faster."
Eira returned her gaze to the paper. "And how much gold did we lose for this storm?"
Emma shrugged lightly. "A fraction. A few well-placed donations. Two port officials in New Orleans, one Ministry clerk in Washington, and an alchemist’s guild leader in Buenos Aires. They all had... motivators."
Eira didn’t smile, but her eyes glead. "And no one traced anything?"
Emma replied calmly, "All roads point to trade mismanagent, internal corruption, or sabotage from rivals. Not a single whisper touches the White family."
"Excellent," Eira said, folding the paper neatly. "Let’s let them panic , the Trévérs will think it’s retaliation of the Voclains."
For a while, there was quiet between them. The snow outside thickened. Then, after a pause, Emma reached into her bag again.
"There’s sothing else. News from Britain—Hogwarts."
Eira glanced at her. "Trouble?"
Emma nodded. "You could call it that. Lucius Malfoy is pushing hard to get Dumbledore removed from his post as headmaster. He’s lobbying several departnts at the British Ministry, writing to governors, trying to build montum."
"I’m not surprised," Eira said. "That man’s ambition has no ceiling."
"He’s also trying to reach out to you," Emma added, her tone more cautious. "He sent three letters over the last week. All sealed and diplomatic. I’ve kept them from your desk."
"Burn them," Eira replied flatly. "Let him stew."
Emma smiled. "Very good."
Eira crossed one leg over the other. "Why is he so desperate now?"
Emma’s face darkened slightly. "There’s been... incidents. At Hogwarts."
"What kind of incidents?"
"Petrification. Multiple students. So say they’ve been frozen stiff—stone-like, almost. Still alive, but unconscious. The school’s denying details, but I have correspondents there. A few portraits even spoke of seeing the victims before they were moved."
Eira’s brow arched. "That’s serious. Who’s behind it?"
"No one knows," Emma said. "But there are rumors. And they’re turning to the most obvious suspect."
Eira asked . "Who is this lucky guy?."
Emma replied . "Well it’s a familiar na actually. Harry Potter has been seen near the scenes of at least two attacks. Nothing proven. But gossip is ruthless, especially among the old bloodlines. So Slytherin parents are demanding answers. Even the other children parents are unsettled."
Eira was quiet, digesting the information. "I never thought the golden boy would be capable of sothing like this."
Emma shook her head. "I doubt he is."
"Why?"
"I’ve looked into him. Very ordinary boy, honestly. Nothing remarkable except the scar. He’s not a prodigy. Doesn’t stand out in class. If anything, the older students mock him for being... underwhelming."
Eira tilted her head. "But didn’t he face a dark wizard last year?"
"That’s the only unusual thing," Emma admitted. "There are whispers he confronted soone who tried to steal sothing from the school. Possibly related to Nicolas Flemal. But even that’s all speculation."
Eira tapped her fingers against her armrest. "The fact he keeps getting caught in the middle of events either ans he’s attracting chaos—or it’s being aid at him."
"When the hearing over the Black family’s assets was held in the Wizengamot court," Eira replied , her tone calm but edged with dry observation, "I noticed sothing rather telling. Dumbledore—he seed remarkably invested in the outco. It was clear he was trying, quite hard in fact, to tilt the situation in favor of that boy... Harry Potter."
She leaned back slightly, her gaze distant in thought. "So no, we don’t need to concern ourselves with him. Regardless of what he does or doesn’t do—nothing of consequence will happen to him. He won’t be expelled from Hogwarts. He won’t face real consequences. Not with Dumbledore shielding him the way he does."
There was a pause before she added, almost amused, "From what I saw, Dumbledore was practically bending over backwards to ensure Potter would inherit the Black estate. That tells you enough, doesn’t it? They’re not only tolerant of him... they’re protecting him. Fiercely. So yes, there’s no need to worry. The golden boy is under powerful protection."
Emma’s eyes narrowed. "You think he’s being used?"
"I think he’s either a magnet or a pawn," Eira said, standing slowly and walking to the window. "Either way, he’s may not be the cause. But the press won’t care about that."
"No," Emma agreed. "Not when they can sell fear and scandal."
Eira stared out into the falling snow. Her reflection in the glass was calm, unreadable.
"Keep watching Hogwarts," she said. "And keep intercepting Malfoy’s letters. I don’t want to be dragged into their little gas."
Emma rose to her feet. "Understood."
"One more thing," Eira added, turning back. "If the boy really is at the center of this—whether cause or consequence—I want to know why. Don’t rely on gossip. Use real sources. Use portraits. Ghosts. Even owls if you have to."
"I already have people inside the castle. I’ll press them harder."
"Good."
Eira walked back to her seat, brushing a loose strand of white hair from her cheek. "Let Hogwarts burn itself quietly. We have our own enemies to ruin."
Emma smiled faintly. "As you command."
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