The next morning, Sean could feel Barrett's eyes on him, a strange mixture of fear and calculation in his gaze. He deliberately ignored it, proceeding with his day as if nothing had changed.
Barrett isn't desperate yet, Sean reasoned. He wouldn't dare make a direct move within the castle walls. To nudge things along, Sean had made sure that as he, Andy, and Blaise walked past Barrett earlier, he loudly mentioned their plans to use Polyjuice Potion to visit Hogsmeade on Saturday. An opportunity that perfect? Barrett wouldn't be able to resist, especially since the phantom Voldemort had only given him a week.
The entire charade had been orchestrated for one purpose: to force Barrett's hand. By feeding him a specific time and place, Sean could predict his enemy's move with absolute certainty and prepare the perfect trap.
Meanwhile, he needed to deal with the situation with Phineas Burke. Maintaining the Imperius Curse on so many individuals was a significant drain, even for a wizard as skilled as Phineas. It was time to thin the herd. The ones most resistant to the curse would be cut loose. If they perished alongside Barrett and his cronies, all the better. If not, they could be served up as scapegoats. The Ministry of Magic's Aurors were always eager to crack down on Dark Wizards impersonating the Dark Lord.
And then there was the diary. Sean was done with it, but he wouldn't just toss it aside. He had already chosen its next owner. Since his dear uncle had made the first move, he shouldn't be surprised when his nephew and younger brother retaliated.
Yes, Sean thought with a cold smile. Marcellus.
As the Quidditch season swept through the school, an air of festive excitement filled Hogwarts, providing the perfect cover for darker dealings.
In a secluded corner of the dungeons, Barrett addressed his small group of followers. "I've confirmed it. The targets are leaving for Hogsmeade this Saturday. Our plan is to follow them and deal with them one by one."
"This Saturday? So soon?" one of them asked nervously.
Barrett shot a sharp look at Dicky. He hadn't told him about his encounter with the Dark Lord. Part of it was the need for secrecy, but another, more selfish part didn't want Dicky competing for favor. By now, Barrett was almost entirely convinced. He had seen Voldemort with his own eyes, a phantom possessing a Slytherin student. When connected with the recent release of the Basilisk by the Heir of Slytherin, the conclusion was undeniable. He was perhaps 95% certain the figure he'd met was the real Dark Lord. The remaining 5% was less disbelief and more a sliver of self-preservation.
His loyalty had shifted. He was no longer acting on behalf of Phineas Burke. His only thought was completing the task given to him by the great Dark Lord, thereby saving his own skin and securing a place of honor at his side.
"It's the Quidditch season," Barrett explained, his voice low and urgent. "There's a match on Saturday, so far fewer students will be in Hogsmeade. It's the perfect time to act. None of us want to be expelled, hunted by the Ministry, or worse, thrown into Azkaban, do we?"
The mention of Azkaban sent a palpable wave of fear through the group. They may have admired Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but the reality of prison was something else entirely. Their fanaticism was a shallow thing, born from a desire for the power and status that Pure-blood supremacy promised, not from true conviction. They were like the cowards who had reveled in the chaos of Voldemort's reign, only to claim they were under the Imperius Curse the moment he fell. They would never truly sacrifice anything for their beliefs.
"Alright, then. This Saturday it is," one of them declared, his voice gaining a false bravado. "Once we kill those three half-bloods and the Squib's son who disgrace our house, the great Dark Lord will surely acknowledge us!"
"That's right!" another chimed in. "The Basilisk he released will know we are worthy!"
"We must kill them this Saturday!"
As the others voiced their grim determination, Barrett and Dicky exchanged a look. Dicky, however, remained oblivious. He had no idea that Barrett's motivations for killing Sean had now completely diverged from his own.
Sean was descending from the Astronomy Tower when he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.
"Sean, can we talk?"
He turned to see Harry hurrying to catch up, flanked by Ron and Hermione. He offered a small smile and nodded, then turned to his own friend. "Blaise, go on ahead to the library. I'll meet you there in a bit."
Blaise shot a look of cool indifference at Harry and Hermione, completely ignoring Ron. "Alright," he said to Sean. "The usual spot."
"See you there."
As Blaise walked away, Sean turned his attention back to the trio. "So, where should we talk? Here, or should we find somewhere more private?"
Harry glanced down an empty corridor nearby. "Up there should be fine."
The four of them started walking. As they did, Sean caught sight of Malfoy, who had clearly been about to accost the trio. Upon seeing Sean with them, however, Malfoy executed a remarkably smooth pivot and vanished from sight.
A faint smile touched Sean's lips. "Alright, Harry," he said. "What's so important that you had to track me down?"
Harry exchanged a quick, nervous glance with Ron and Hermione before taking a deep breath. "Sean, we know… we know you have a sort of potions business. We were wondering if you had any way of getting some Bicorn horn and the skin of a Boomslang."
Sean's expression didn't change, but inwardly, he knew exactly what they were planning. Polyjuice Potion. He couldn't recall how they'd originally acquired the restricted ingredients, but since they had come to him, he was more than willing to help. Between his genuine friendship with Harry and the unwavering trust Harry had shown by lending him the Invisibility Cloak, it was an easy decision.
He didn't bother asking what they needed them for. "Are you in a hurry?" he asked simply. "If not, I can get them to you by Saturday evening. Is that alright?"
His casual agreement clearly stunned them. A wave of excited relief washed over their faces. They hadn't expected him to agree so readily, let alone so quickly. Today was Thursday. That meant they could have what they needed in just two days.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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