After both parties signed their true names, the illusory parchment shimmered, then transformed into a glowing ribbon of light. It slowly twisted through the air, forming the shape of an ∞—the symbol of eternity—hovering between Sean and Barrett.
Moments later, the ribbon unraveled into countless points of light, each glowing softly as they sank into their bodies.
The contract was sealed.
In that instant, both Sean and Barrett felt a shift deep within their magic.
Sean experienced a sudden epiphany. He could feel it—Barrett's life, his death, even his suffering, were now tethered to Sean's will. A single thought could end Barrett's existence. Or worse—if Sean so chose, he could render Barrett unable to die, forcing him into an endless loop of pain.
This magic had come from Gideon's notes—dark, ancient, and binding. A soul contract.
But such a contract couldn't be forced. It demanded sincerity from both parties. Even a sliver of resistance would have caused the ritual to fail.
Barrett, however, had been broken in mind and spirit. After his defeat at Sean's hands, after facing death and witnessing power beyond his comprehension, he had surrendered completely. With no hesitation, no resistance, he had accepted his fate—and thus, the contract had taken hold.
When the light faded, Barrett lowered himself in a deep, sincere bow before Sean. No longer trembling. No longer conflicted.
When he rose, he stood respectfully at Sean's side.
At that moment, Marwood arrived with several of his men. Sean surveyed the aftermath—the scorched trees, broken ground, and scattered magical residue. Without hesitation, he issued orders.
"Take some men and clean up the scene," he said to Marwood and Barrett. "Make sure no magic traces can be tracked. Burn the bodies—leave nothing behind that points to us. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, Master," Marwood replied immediately.
Without further delay, he turned and began directing his men into action.
Barrett was about to assist when Sean raised a hand, halting him.
"Barrett," Sean said coolly, "the deaths of Dickey and his group will undoubtedly prompt an investigation from both Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic. Do you have a plan?"
Barrett bowed his head respectfully. "Master, if I pose as one of the victims, the Ministry won't be able to use Veritaserum on me without legal grounds. As long as your dark wizards cooperate and stick to the story, I can blame everything on a rogue dark wizard attack."
Sean nodded. "Good. Go speak with Marwood. Draft a solid plan and clean this up properly. No evidence. No loose ends. Go."
"Yes, Master."
Barrett turned swiftly and disappeared into the trees, already shouting for two men to assist him.
Sean stood still for a moment, watching the fires rise as the bodies were consumed and the magical traces erased. Black smoke swirled faintly around his cloak as he stepped forward—and then rose, lifting into the air with practiced ease.
His body moved smoothly through the sky, headed toward Hogsmeade. After long hours of focused training in the Room of Requirement, Sean had finally mastered the art of magical flight.
Returning to Hogsmeade, Sean found Andy still sleeping in the corner and used magic to wake him up.
Although getting drunk from butterbeer was even more absurd than Snape attending class with a smile, Andy was clever enough not to ask questions or overthink. He played his ignorance well, and the two of them returned to Hogwarts the same way they had come. Andy even accompanied Sean to deliver the Polyjuice Potion ingredients to Harry and the other two.
Watching Harry and his friends trying to act secretive—clearly attempting to hide the fact that they were brewing Polyjuice Potion—Andy almost wanted to laugh. Sean has already started drinking Polyjuice Potion like water, and you're still sneaking around like it's some big secret.
Back in the common room, Sean began reviewing the abilities he'd gained from the duel.
Each of the four, including Dickey, had only given him one ability. Dickey had provided a Level 1 Explosion Spell. As for the others, the magic they offered was already part of Sean's arsenal. Aside from gaining a bit of experience and deeper understanding of spells he already knew, there wasn't much else to be gained.
Barrett, however, was a massive win.
[Duel Victory: Randomly draw two abilities from the opponent.].
[Drawing…]
[Draw complete: Acquired Talent: Swift Casting LV1, Cruciatus Curse LV1]
He'd gained the Cruciatus Curse, one of Azkaban's Unforgivable trio, and a talent, Swift Casting, comparable to his Agile Casting.
If Agile Casting let Sean chain spells smoothly and wield his wand with precision, Swift Casting purely boosted his casting speed. No wonder Barrett could match Sean's spell speed in their duel.
The only pity was that Sean didn't get the Killing Curse.
The Azkaban trio felt incomplete without it.
Satisfied with his gains, Sean slept soundly, curled up with Kulkan.
------------
While Sean slept soundly with Kulkan in his arms, Barrett limped back to Hogwarts under the cover of night, his body battered and broken. Burns of various sizes marked his arms and neck. One leg dragged uselessly behind him, and his left arm hung limp at his side—the bones within completely shattered.
In his condition, Barrett's return stirred immediate commotion. Thankfully, most students had already gone to bed; had it happened during daylight, his appearance would've caused outright panic across the castle.
Within minutes, Dumbledore and the four Heads of House arrived. The moment Dumbledore laid eyes on Barrett, his pupils narrowed slightly—barely perceptible, but not without meaning.
Madam Pomfrey, who had rushed to his side, protested sharply against any interrogation in his condition, but Dumbledore remained calm. His voice was low, serious.
"Mr. Barrett, who did this to you?"
Barrett's face twisted in pain, but he answered quickly.
"Dark wizards," he rasped. "I didn't recognize any of them. Dickey and the others were with me… but they were all killed. We fought back, we managed to take down a few, but there were too many. I barely escaped with my life."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "And where, Mr. Barrett, did you encounter these dark wizards?"
Barrett faltered. The question caught him off-guard, and his eyes flicked sideways—a clear sign of evasion.
At that moment, Snape stepped forward, voice cold and cutting.
"Barrett," he said, "this is not the time to hide anything. If necessary, I will request authorization from the Ministry to administer Veritaserum. You won't be able to dodge anything then—not just this."
Barrett stiffened, clearly unnerved. A flash of fear passed across his bruised face.
Then Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus," he said mildly, "I don't support using truth serum on students."
He paused, then turned back to Barrett with a thoughtful look.
"But Mr. Barrett is of age now. He'll graduate soon. He ought to understand the weight of his choices. I trust," Dumbledore added, eyes narrowing just slightly, "that he will tell us the truth."
It was a gentle tone—but a heavy warning was woven into every word.
With Snape playing the cold enforcer and Dumbledore the reasonable protector, the message was clear. Barrett had no choice but to speak.
And so, with a pained sigh and carefully altered details, Barrett began to recount a version of the truth—just enough to satisfy their suspicions, while keeping the true mastermind's identity hidden.