When Wentworth spoke, Juma showed no surprise. Instead, he nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Of course. Something of this magnitude warrants careful consideration. But I trust you'll make the right choice in the end."
Wentworth responded with a small, confident smile.
"Naturally. The choices I make are always the right ones. And if they're not, I make them so."
At that, Juma burst into hearty laughter, and seeing him laugh, Wentworth couldn't help but chuckle along.
Just then, Malika Kalembo glided over gracefully. She came up behind Wentworth, placed her hands gently on his shoulders, and pouted playfully at Juma.
"Cousin! Are you two quite finished? I've been waiting ever so patiently to dance with Wentworth again!"
At her words, Juma quickly apologized with exaggerated earnestness.
"My apologies, truly! I've kept you waiting. Please, carry on."
Wentworth and Malika then shared another dance before he politely excused himself and departed.
Once he had gone, Malika slipped into the seat he had occupied, casting a sly smile at Juma as she spoke with feigned innocence.
"Cousin, it seems my charm isn't working on him at all! We danced twice, and his hands didn't so much as wander. What a bore!"
Juma, unbothered, waved her concerns away.
"He's from an old European pure-blood line. If he lacked even that much self-restraint, Albus Dumbledore would never have brought him here. I told you already, your little tricks might dazzle the sheltered boys at Uagadou, but not someone like him."
"If you truly like him, I could help create some opportunities. But if you're just toying with him..."
Juma paused, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. His voice dropped into a cold, deliberate rhythm.
"Then it ends here. You can test the waters, but you will not cross the line. I will not have you jeopardizing the Kalembo Tribe's plans. Do you understand me?"
Under his piercing gaze, Malika straightened up reflexively and nodded.
"I understand, cousin. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Seeing that she had answered with due seriousness, Juma's demeanor softened, returning to his previous casual tone.
"Malika, while you're still at school, if you do meet someone you genuinely like, tell me. Once you graduate, if the tribe arranges something for you, even I may no longer be able to help."
At this, Malika paled, as if she'd just heard something dreadful. She shook her head repeatedly and said in a flurry:
"No, no, cousin, I don't like anyone, I swear! It's just a bit of fun, nothing serious! I promise, I'll follow the tribe's decisions without question. It would be an honour!"
Juma nodded, satisfied, and said no more. Malika exhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, before cautiously continuing:
"But cousin… You altered the tribe's plan on your own. Will the elders even agree to it? They originally wanted—"
Before she could finish, Juma slammed his goblet onto the table with a loud clack. Malika flinched and immediately fell silent.
Juma's expression darkened.
"They failed to secure this investigation trip to Uagadou. And now Dumbledore himself shows up. Who do they think is to blame?"
"I don't know why Albus Dumbledore, who usually pays little mind to these affairs, chose to intervene in person this time. But now that he's here, his word alone is as good as law in the eyes of the International Confederation of Wizards. The original plan? It's dead."
"But… that's not necessarily a loss. If we can bring the Dumbledore family into the school's board through Wentworth, that might turn out to be a greater gain!"
"In Europe, we could operate under the banner of the Dumbledore name. And as for influence over Uagadou? Please, this is Africa. Not Europe."
A slow, satisfied smile crept across Juma's face as he took another sip of his wine.
Malika, however, looked uneasy.
"But cousin… do you really think Wentworth will agree to your proposal? He didn't give any indication just now."
Juma chuckled softly.
"Malika, trust me, I was watching his eyes. There was a moment when they lit up. Just for a second. But I'm certain, he was tempted."
Malika perked up, intrigued and delighted.
"Then what should we do next? Should I slip him a potion to…"
Smack!
Before she could finish, Juma struck her across the face with an open palm. The sharp sound drew attention, but when those nearby saw who it was, they quickly turned away, pretending not to notice.
Malika sprang to her feet, trembling before him.
Juma rose slowly, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her close. He whispered into her ear, his voice ice-cold:
"If you're that eager to die, I can make it happen right now, and make it quick. But if you mess up my plan… even death won't come easy."
Malika could only nod over and over, shaking with fear. She didn't say a word, even as he finally let go.
Juma sneered.
"If Wentworth makes the choice on his own, Albus Dumbledore will have to accept it. But if he suspects manipulation, do you really think Dumbledore is just some kindly old man with a soft face?"
He paused, his expression neutralizing.
"If you truly want to be friends with Wentworth, I'll support you completely, even help you."
"If you can win him over by your own merit, if he chooses to marry you, I'll convince the tribal elders to throw the grandest wedding the wizarding world has ever seen."
"But if you don't have what it takes… then accept your fate. Stop dreaming. A political marriage, that's your only path forward."
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TN: This fanfic has been fully translated and is available on my Patreon —— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]