Stealing Magic: A Darker Hogwarts

"Well, See you tomorrow then," Fleur said, her voice light but tinged with a hint of regret as she turned away.

"See you tomorrow, Fleur," Sean replied, watching her silhouette fade down the dormitory corridor, her silver hair catching the enchanted candlelight like a faint charm.

Sean said nothing more, his thoughts swirling as he headed to his own room. The door clicked shut behind him, and Jason, ever-present at his side, hesitated before speaking. "Master, Miss Fleur should be—"

Before Jason could finish, a piece of cloth shot across the room, stuffed into his mouth with a muffled thud. Aldridge's wand was still raised, his expression stern, like a Hogwarts professor silencing a wayward student.

Jason spat out the cloth with a "Pfft!" and glared, ready to snap at Aldridge. But seeing the butler's serious gaze, he swallowed his words. Jason wasn't foolish—he knew Aldridge's warning meant something.

Sean set down the book he'd been holding, an alchemy text from Beauxbatons' library, its pages faintly glowing with preservation charms. He turned to face Aldridge and Jason, a faint smile on his lips. He'd had his back to them, but the scuffle's sound painted the scene clearly.

"You don't need to feel sorry for me," Sean said, his voice calm but firm. "I know what Fleur meant. She's a great friend, and we get along well. I don't want that to change."

He paused, his gaze drifting to the flickering candle on his desk. "Because we're such good friends, I have to be careful with my words. Saying the wrong thing could ruin what we have—not now, but maybe later. If I'm not cautious, I might lose her friendship altogether. So don't worry about me. I'm not blind to my feelings."

Aldridge nodded, his expression softening, while Jason scratched his head, a sheepish grin breaking through. Sean's clarity surprised them, but it was a reminder of why they followed him—not just as a Bulstrode, but as someone who saw the world with sharp eyes.

The next morning, Sean found Fleur in the auditorium, her laughter bright as they discussed a tricky Transfiguration theory. She was as vibrant as ever, her confidence and independence shining through, a capable witch who needed no one's pity. They talked and joked, their ease unbroken by the previous night's moment, a testament to their mutual respect.

Sean's time at Beauxbatons continued, the one-month deadline drawing near. He threw himself into his studies, poring over the alchemy books gifted as compensation for Barre's betrayal. Each tome was a treasure, their copied pages brimming with secrets of magical crafting. Through them, Sean glimpsed the vast depth of wizarding knowledge—a world so rich no one could master it all in a lifetime. Even the greatest wizards, he realized, had to choose their paths, focusing on a few disciplines to truly excel.

He reflected on the divide between academic and practical magic. One could hone spellcasting alone, sharpening charms and curses to wield devastating power, like Voldemort, whose name still sent shivers through the wizarding world. But such a wizard would never match the legacy of Nicolas Flamel, whose Philosopher's Stone was a triumph of scholarly brilliance. The difference was clear: power versus greatness.

Sean knew he wasn't a genius, not like Flamel or even Dumbledore. But he was determined to pursue both paths—academic depth and practical skill. His Troll Strength and Agile casting gave him an edge in duels, as seen with Fleur and Barre, but the alchemy texts opened doors to a broader mastery. He wanted to be more than a fighter; he wanted to create, to understand the roots of magic itself.

This was the plan he'd forged over the past month, a roadmap for his future. As Beauxbatons' spires gleamed under protective enchantments, Sean felt a quiet resolve. The wizarding world was vast, but he'd carve his own place within it, balancing the wand's fire with the scholar's quill.

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In Beauxbatons' airy auditorium, Sean sat across from Fleur, the clink of goblets and chatter of students fading into the background. The enchanted chandeliers cast a soft glow, like stars trapped in crystal, but Sean's focus was on the milk in his cup, its cool simplicity grounding him as his departure loomed.

"Sean, when will your carriage arrive?" Fleur asked, her voice warm but edged with something softer, almost hesitant.

Sean drained his milk, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "About an hour from now," he replied, meeting her gaze.

Fleur's eyes flickered with a trace of reluctance, a fleeting shadow that vanished as quickly as it came. She smiled, her Veela charm brightening the moment. "When you get back to Hogwarts' region, don't forget to write. I've given you my address and all."

"You too—write to me often," Sean said, his tone light but sincere.

Fleur nodded, her smile widening. "Did you get the books Beauxbatons gave you as compensation?"

"Yeah, I got them," Sean said, leaning back in his chair. "No wonder they agreed to hand them over. Those alchemy texts are so complex, it's like trying to read a spell in a foreign tongue. Without some serious alchemy skill, they're nearly impossible to understand. I tried for three days and gave up. They're a bit advanced for me right now."

Fleur tilted her head, curious. "Does Hogwarts have alchemy books?"

"They do," Sean admitted, "but not like Beauxbatons. This is Nicolas Flamel's school, after all. No other place in the wizarding regions matches Beauxbatons in alchemy."

Their conversation flowed easily, touching on magic, studies, and the quirks of their schools. Sean felt a pang of nostalgia already, knowing this was one of their last moments together for now. Fleur's laughter, her quick wit, her effortless grace—they'd become a steady part of his days at Beauxbatons, a counterpoint to the isolation he'd faced after Barre's betrayal.

An hour passed too quickly. Aldridge and Jason entered the auditorium, their steps purposeful, carrying the last of Sean's belongings. Back at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Aldridge had arranged for a Bulstrode family house-elf to send Sean's textbooks, notes, and his pet, Kurkan, home, along with items not needed at Beauxbatons. The task had left their packing light, a few trunks charmed to hover behind them.

"Master, it's time to go," Aldridge said, his voice calm but firm.

Sean set down his teacup, its delicate clink echoing his reluctance. He turned to Fleur, a sheepish smile on his face. "Fleur, I'm off."

She stood, her expression warm but steady. "Safe travels."

"Goodbye!" Sean said, his voice carrying a note of finality.

"Goodbye, and remember to write, Sean," Fleur replied, her smile softening the farewell.

"Don't worry, I won't forget," he promised, raising a hand in a wave.

Outside, at the carriage stop, Fleur stood framed by Beauxbatons' gleaming spires, her silver hair catching an enchanted breeze. Sean waved once more as he climbed into the carriage, its polished wood glowing like a charmed lantern. He closed the door, and with a gentle lurch, the carriage took flight, soaring toward the Beauxbatons' authorities' transport hub.

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