Sean knew that sharp voice instantly. It was Snape, and Sean realized their fight was over. He felt a pang of regret—if the duel had gone on, he could've used his panel to take Tarquin's abilities, maybe more than once.
Snape stepped out from the shadows, his black robes swirling. He glanced at Sean, checking he was unharmed, then turned his icy stare on Tarquin. "Tarquin, I warned you before. If you attack another student at Hogwarts, you'll pay a price. Do you think my words mean nothing, or that you're above them?"
Tarquin met Snape's gaze for a long moment, then lowered his wand. He forced a smile, his voice oily. "Of course not, just an accident. I'm really sorry, Dean." With that, Tarquin turned and slipped away.
He didn't dare challenge Snape, not truly.
Most students didn't know, but Tarquin, from a strong family, was well aware. Snape had been one of Voldemort's most trusted followers, skilled and powerful in every way. Tarquin could taunt others, but he wouldn't cross Snape.
Snape stood in the dark corridor, his voice low as he spoke to Sean. "Tarquin's family, isn't one of the twenty-eight pure-blood lines, but it's among the strongest new families. They're richer and tougher than many old, fading houses."
He paused, his eyes sharp. "Tarquin is a pure-blood fanatic, dangerous and extreme. Stay away from him."
"I understand. Thank you, Professor," Sean said, his voice steady.
Snape's lip curled. "If you really want to thank me, stop causing trouble and survive seven years at Hogwarts. But with your reckless brain, so close to a Gryffindor's, I doubt you'll last that long safely."
The Snape's words stung like venom, as always.
Sean watched Snape's robes billow as he walked away, but his mind was elsewhere.
He was certain Tarquin had wanted to kill him during their duel. The guy's eyes had burned with murder. Sean didn't wait for enemies to strike first—if someone wanted him dead, he'd act. Tarquin had to die.
Now, Sean faced a problem: how to kill Tarquin and stay clear of trouble.
Luckily, he had a plan.
Sean hurried back to the Slytherin common room, the dungeon's chill fading as he reached the stone door. A polite student stood waiting, his smile bright in the green torchlight.
The student stepped forward, eager. "Hello, I guess you are Sean Bulstrode?"
Another one? Sean thought, smirking inside. I didn't know I was this famous.
He could tell this guy was likely with Tarquin, part of the group targeting Andy's business.
Sure enough, the student reached Sean and said, "Hello, my name is Dorian Cook. First, I want to say a big sorry for Tarquin's rudeness to you earlier."
"No need to apologize," Sean said calmly. "I didn't get hurt."
Dorian frowned a little, surprised by Sean's cool attitude. Sean wasn't scared or mad, unlike others Dorian had met. But after Sean's two pure-blood duels, his confidence made sense.
"He should apologize," Dorian insisted. "Tarquin was rude first. He comes from a pure-blood family and has some extreme ideas, so he acts mean. Please let me say sorry for him."
Dorian pulled a small bag from his pocket and pressed it into Sean's hand.
Sean weighed it—ten Galleons, a huge amount for a Hogwarts student. It showed Dorian was serious about the apology.
Sean didn't push the bag back. It was an apology, so he took it. But forgiving Tarquin's sneak attack didn't mean forgetting his murderous intent. That, Sean would deal with.
He tossed the bag lightly in his hand. "I accept your apology. Anything else to say?"
Dorian smiled, watching Sean tuck the Galleons away. "Of course, but it's late, Sean. You should rest. I'll come by another day."
"Okay, bye," Sean said, his voice flat.
As Dorian walked off, Sean's smile turned cold. Dorian played the nice guy, Tarquin the mean one. If Sean were really twelve, he might've fallen for it. But his soul wasn't a kid's anymore.
Back in his room, Sean rested for a bit and fed Kulkan some snake food, the serpent's scales glinting in the lamplight. Then he sat at his desk, the wood creaking, and opened Gavin's notes.
The notes were thick, nearly three hundred pages of tight handwriting. Sean flipped through, stopping at page sixty-six, where he found what he needed.
A curse from Gavin's notes!
Most of the notes were about potions, but a few pages held curses—dark, sneaky spells. The curse Sean picked wasn't the strongest or easiest, but it was perfect. It didn't need a powerful caster. With the right materials, a clear target, and a true wish to kill, even a first-year could use it.
This curse was also secret. Without knowing the exact spell or where it was cast, no one could trace the caster. That's why Sean chose it.
But casting it had two big challenges.
First, it needed blood from a magical creature, like a fire dragon, phoenix, or thunderbird. Different creatures made the curse stronger or weaker, depending on their magic. Sean remembered a unicorn would soon die in the Forbidden Forest. Its blood, as powerful as a dragon's, would work perfectly.
Second, he needed Tarquin's hair, blood, or teeth. To get them without raising suspicion, Sean had to be careful and wait for the right moment.
The second part was trickier. Inside Hogwarts, it was hard to get those things quietly. Outside, in Hogsmeade, might be easier, but Sean worried about the Ministry tracking his magic. Tarquin, a sixth-year, could escape if Sean wasn't careful, making things messy.
Cursing Tarquin was safer than a direct attack.
But Sean, a first-year, wasn't allowed in Hogsmeade. How could he get there without anyone knowing?