"Listen, Malfoy— I mean, Lord Malfoy," Igor stammered, trying desperately to regain some control over himself. "Whatever happened here was just… a misunderstanding. It was completely out of instinct. I didn't—"
"So you are telling me," Abarax interrupted calmly, "that none of this was planned?"
He slowly stood up.
The movement was simple.
Almost casual.
Yet Igor immediately felt the pressure.
Abarax took one step forward.
Igor took one step back.
"Well… yes. Nothing was—"
"So that explains the dozen wizards waiting at your command?" Abarax continued, his eerie smile never leaving his face. "Interesting."
Igor swallowed.
"Were you attempting to kill me, Lord Karkaroff?"
The question was asked so softly that it was somehow worse.
Abarax tilted his head slightly.
"Or perhaps you believed a lord of higher standing in the Slavic magical community could simply attack a British lord without consequences?"
His eyes sharpened.
"Are you trying to start a war between magical communities?"
Igor's expression changed.
"Or did you assume Britain would simply stand aside and allow such an insult?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant—"
Igor's voice cracked.
He immediately dropped to his knees.
"Lord Malfoy…"
Abarax raised an eyebrow.
"I assure you, I did not come here expecting this."
Igor lowered his head until his forehead touched the floor.
"This was a terrible misunderstanding. I— I am willing to pledge my family's allegiance to House Malfoy to make up for my mistake."
His voice became desperate.
"Please, could you just—"
He stopped.
Abarax looked down at him.
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then his smile widened.
"Well, well."
The amusement in his voice was unmistakable.
"Rise, Igor."
Igor hesitated.
"I thought you had already pledged your allegiance to Voldemort."
Igor remained kneeling.
"I pledged my allegiance, my lord."
He looked up slightly.
"Not my family's."
"There is a difference."
For a second, Abarax simply stared at him.
Then—
He laughed.
Not cruelly.
Actually amused.
"Well," he said, shaking his head slightly. "That was clever."
Igor looked confused.
"I always knew you were a smart man, Igor."
Abarax stepped closer.
"So tell me…"
His expression became serious again.
"Are you truly willing to do this?"
Igor looked up.
Before he could answer, Abarax sighed.
"Get up."
Igor blinked.
"My lord?"
"I said get up."
Abarax extended a hand.
"I am not some barbarian who enjoys forcing people to submit."
He smiled faintly.
"We can discuss this like civilized people."
Igor stared at him.
Then slowly accepted the hand and stood.
As Abarax turned and walked back toward the study, Igor followed behind, still trying to process everything.
Under his breath, he muttered—
"Civilized…"
He glanced at the destroyed room.
"At least twelve dead guards…"
He looked at Abarax's calm back.
"What civilized person does something like this?"
He sighed.
"Merlin… what have I gotten myself into?"
********
With Orion...
Orion was looking over the Black family grimoire — a collection that had existed long before Hogwarts itself. It contained spells older than most magical institutions, spells passed down through generations. He was speaking to Rajveer through a two-way mirror.
"No, Orion. The problem is not that your magic isn't powerful enough to cast the spell. The problem is that you do not understand the spell completely," Rajveer said, his expression serious as he looked through the mirror.
"I know, but I know I can do this. It is my ancestral grimoire. Anything in here should be possible for me to perform, shouldn't it?" Orion replied, his irritation clear as he flipped through the ancient pages.
The book was not originally a book. It was a collection of countless scrolls from generations of the Black family, later bound together into a single grimoire.
"Well, if we get the magical core and the body restoration parts correct, then we might actually have a chance at bringing my sisters back," Rajveer said, carefully looking through his own notes.
"We can. That is exactly why I went through all these lengths to get this grimoire, Rajveer. Do you have any idea how much effort I put into finding this?" Orion snapped, annoyance slipping into his voice.
"You see, that is exactly why I am asking you this. Are you absolutely certain you broke the curse completely, Orion? Because I do not want my sisters to return only to suffer from the effects of it again. They have already lost enough. Unless you are completely certain the curse is gone, you should not attempt this. Otherwise, everything will return to the beginning again. Do you understand?" Rajveer asked solemnly.
"Obviously, I understand." Orion's eyes sharpened. "What do you think I have been doing all these years? I have spent years searching for a way to break that curse, and I did it. I found the answer, and I broke it."
"But Rajveer started—"
"No buts." Orion cut him off immediately. "I know what I am doing, brother. Trust me."
For a moment, Rajveer remained silent, studying him through the mirror.
"Fine. We will continue tomorrow. I have some things I need to handle. Until then, take care."
With that, the connection faded, leaving Orion alone in the quiet room.
He stared at the empty mirror.
The silence around him felt heavier than before.
His silver eyes darkened, and something dangerous stirred beneath the surface — a familiar madness that had always been waiting.
Because after years of searching, after years of losing everything...
He was finally close.
Too close to stop now.
*********
I've cleaned up the grammar, improved the flow, and kept the character dynamics intact—Lucius being distracted but protective, Regulus trying to act normal after the previous events, and the subtle political implications of them being seen together.
In Hogwarts...
Lucius was seated in the Slytherin common room, absent-mindedly polishing one of his wands.
The regulations at Hogwarts had changed after the visit from his father and Lord Black. It seemed the administration had suddenly discovered the importance of practical duelling. A duelling club had been established, and all final-year students were now required to participate in it to gain firsthand combat experience.
Normally, Lucius would have appreciated the change.
Today, however, his mind was elsewhere.
He was so distracted that he did not even notice when Regulus sat down beside him. The only reason he realized he was no longer alone was because Regulus spoke.
"At this rate, you're going to polish the surface right off that wand, brother. You should probably cut down on the polishing."
There was a teasing edge to Regulus's voice.
The sight immediately drew attention from the other Slytherins.
This was one of the few times the heir of Malfoy and the scion of House Black had been seen casually sitting together and talking. It almost seemed as though all the political rumors circulating through Britain were true—that the Blacks had the support of the Malfoys and that both houses stood united politically.
If that were true, no one quite knew what it would mean for the political landscape of magical Britain.
Lucius snorted softly.
"Well, it's better than not polishing it at all."
Regulus rolled his eyes.
Before he could say anything else, Lucius continued.
"And before you start, you're not responsible for what happened. I was the one who wanted to see the photograph. So stop beating yourself up about it."
Regulus looked away.
"Lucius, I—"
Lucius immediately cut him off.
"Relax, brother."
The words carried enough finality that Regulus let the matter drop.
Instead, Lucius changed the subject.
"Are you joining the duelling club, or have you decided on something else? Have you given it any thought?"
Regulus nodded.
"Actually, yes. I've been thinking about joining..." He paused for a moment. "What was it called again? Ah, yes—the Mystic Arts Club."
Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"The Mystic Arts Club?"
"Apparently, they introduced about five new clubs alongside it."
"Oh, really?" Lucius asked, now genuinely intrigued.
For a moment, the conversation settled into something comfortable.
Then Lucius abruptly remembered something important.
"Actually, gather the rest of our team."
Regulus blinked.
"Our team?"
"Quidditch."
Understanding immediately dawned on his face.
"We have practice tomorrow morning. I want everyone on the pitch before your brother decides to claim it for Gryffindor."
Regulus laughed.
"Sirius is still talking about winning the championship this year?"
"He swore he would."
Lucius looked deeply offended by the very idea.
"And we are absolutely not letting Gryffindor have it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Captain."
Lucius narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"That sounded sarcastic."
"Maybe because you should work on your captaincy skills."
Lucius stared at him.
"Are you on our team or theirs?"
"Definitely ours," Regulus replied without hesitation.
"Good."
Lucius pointed toward the dormitories.
"Now get going."
Still laughing softly, Regulus stood up and headed toward the dormitories to gather the team, leaving Lucius alone once more with his wand, his thoughts, and the many questions that still remained unanswered.