Chapter 139
"The Silver Key" was located not far from Gringotts. The establishment was housed in an old building with a dark stone facade and display windows behind which soft lights flickered. The sign, depicting a silver key on a black background with the establishment's name, glowed faintly in the gray daylight.
I approached the entrance. The door was heavy, with a brass handle polished to a shine. Inside, after walking a short distance, I immediately encountered a waitress in classic English servant's uniform — a long dark blue dress, a white apron, a lace cap. Her attire was strictly styled, but the magical world was hinted at by a small shoulder cape over the dress, which echoed the style of an ordinary magical robe.
"Mr. Malfoy," she inclined her head slightly. It was hard not to recognize me, given the color of my hair and the fact that she had the names of those who had reserved tables written down. "You are already expected. One of your guests arrived ten minutes ago."
"Thank you."
You should always be polite to those who are polite to you. Especially in the food industry. Food with spit is always less preferable than food without it.
The first thing that caught my attention was the smell. Not the cloying smell of food, but the barely perceptible aroma of old wood, wax, and something sweet, like vanilla. The interior was done in dark burgundy tones: chairs with velvet upholstery, a carpet with gold patterns on the floor, walls covered with paintings in massive frames. The autumn-yellow color of the walls and the white tablecloths created a sense of spaciousness, despite the abundance of dark shades.
In short, everything was done very beautifully, and I was now ready to spend on this venture, having also visited this particular establishment for the first time.
The tables against the walls were separated from each other by dark oak wooden partitions. Booking such tables cost a considerable amount of money for an ordinary wizard. Just booking! But I booked on the second floor — it was more expensive and more private.
Hah, now I could afford it without even asking my parents. It's good to have noble roots. Actually, I wanted to show that the rules had changed. And that, although I hadn't received the inheritance, my ambitions remained the same.
I went up the stairs. The second floor greeted me with even more coziness — here the chairs were combined together, forming something like a compartment without one wall and ceiling, separated by high backs upholstered in velvet. Dark oak and the soft light of wall sconces and beautiful chandeliers created an atmosphere of elite exclusivity, although the decor everywhere had some convexity so as not to completely break out of Diagon Alley's style, but it was not so vulgar.
There were separate VIP rooms here too, but they were booked several days in advance, and I seemed to have overdone it as it was. Yes, the restaurant was for the important and wealthy. Perhaps I could have settled for something simpler, but I had heard the name of this place in my father's conversations with business partners, so I came here. So-called native advertising apparently worked well.
The establishment was half-empty — lunchtime, not evening, but even now I noticed well-dressed wizards sitting here, but no one was noisy, no one attracted attention. There was an elderly wizard with a silver cane reading the Prophet at a corner table. And there were two women in expensive robes quietly conversing a little further away, heads bent together. A man in a black suit, resembling a bank clerk, was quickly writing something in a notebook, sipping tea. In short, I already liked the place for its calm atmosphere.
I found my table. And there, sitting at the table, was, of course, Amanda Rosier.
She stood up upon seeing me — perhaps she wanted to show me where the table was. A white blouse with elegant patterns and sleeves to the elbows fit her perfectly. The skirt was dark blue, almost black, and only when she moved could one discern the folds that made it unlike a school uniform. The Slytherin ring was on her finger, and it sparkled in the lamplight as she adjusted her hair. Nearby, on a coat rack, hung her formal robe with the Rosier family emblem — three roses intertwined into a single crest.
Or perhaps she wanted to show herself off. And not in vain.
Amanda was beautiful at that moment. I don't know why, but in this lighting, in this place, and at this moment, I couldn't take my eyes off her, rediscovering every feature of her appearance. Her light hair, styled in a simple but elegant hairdo; her blue eyes, which looked at me with that mixture of challenge and interest that had always attracted me to her. Thirteen years old, but she already knew how to present herself as a gentle and fragile flower that one just wanted to embrace, but stop! No hormones!
"Good afternoon, Amanda," I said, approaching. "You look even more beautiful than usual. You know, that outfit suits you very well."
"Hello, Arcturus," she smiled, but her voice carried her usual sharpness. "Thank you. But you look a little out of breath."
Well, the world doesn't change.
"I was in a hurry," I replied, sitting down opposite. "I couldn't afford to be later. For those minutes of waiting — please forgive me. I miscalculated the time."
"That's not like you," she remarked.
It felt as if, during the holidays, she had forgotten how she had behaved, and about that kiss too.
"Sometimes we deviate from our usual image," I said, and this hint referred to that kiss.
Awkwardness hung between us immediately. I saw Amanda clench her fingers on the tablecloth, her gaze sliding away.
I shouldn't have done that, of course. But what's done is done. We should have discussed this moment earlier, but there were too many more important things for me.
"However," I added, breaking the silence and smiling, "sometimes such surprises are very pleasant. And they impress me with their boldness."
Amanda, blushing, smiled back. This time it was even without her usual sharpness, that is, without the mask she always wore. The smile brought back to her face that tenderness I had noticed only upon seeing her.
"As you can see, Amanda, we're alone here for now," I said, getting back to business. "I wanted to talk to you first, before the others arrive. We haven't discussed a lot of things. And in two days, we have… apparently, a betrothal."
She lowered her gaze, and a note of sadness sounded in her voice.
"I only found out during the holidays too," she said quietly. "Arcturus… you regret it, don't you? Since you couldn't achieve the headship of the house."
"I regret it, but not for the reason you think. Not at all," I replied, and there was no falsehood in my voice. "I've had time to think about a lot of things during the time we haven't been in touch. And even if Sirius hadn't been freed, I would still have known who to choose as the one who would guard my back, care for me, and support me."
Was I lying? Of course, but it was necessary for me, and for her too. Amanda was embarrassed by my words. It was clear from how she slightly averted her gaze. No matter how much she pretended today, I still understood that her infatuation hadn't faded. That was good.
"Sweet words, Arcturus," she said, regaining her composure. "But they only started singing now. I understand perfectly well why you're being so nice."
It was foolish to think she wouldn't see through such a poor game.
"Don't take it to heart if you don't want to," I replied, looking her straight in the eye. "But I needed control over my own destiny to sell myself more profitably. For myself, not for my father. And as for who to choose, I realized that when I saw that a little snake could defend herself. And that she has fangs, even without intrigue."
I paused. The hint referred to the incident with the two upper-year girls whom Amanda had put in their place with her skills. And she was also good at potions. So let's see if I could steer her in the right direction, using the factor of infatuation.
I continued my monologue.
"Magic sometimes stirs the mind more than anything else. It's important to me that my future bride is not a void. Weak and helpless. I need a strong witch who is passionate about something and has her own field. One who can help in a difficult moment where I cannot. One with whom I can stand back-to-back and defeat all enemies. Not one who only knows how to spin intrigues. Mastery of magic has always been important, and now especially so. Our times will be great, and the changes will be big."
"I understand," Amanda said, and a particular firmness sounded in her voice, the kind that appeared at the right moments. "But I also have requirements for my chosen one. Don't think that just because there is that ideal, in whom I am completely smitten…"
Was the little snake lying? Or not?
I didn't understand. But it seemed to me that she was lying more than telling the truth here. In any case, the plan to choose a bride after becoming Lord Black had failed, and now my father was clearly not going to give me time to choose. He now wasn't giving me that choice at all. Everything had changed very, very quickly.
The quarrel with the Milfoils was the reason. They didn't receive help during the pressure from that Italian family, with whom they had been trying to get involved in shady dealings, allied with many prominent French families. Only my distant relatives, unlike other families, even the more important and powerful ones in this nascent trade conglomerate, realized that if you can't beat them, lead them. And now, as my mother informed me, they were in some kind of negotiations. According to indirect rumors from spies, everything was taking an unpleasant turn for us. The Italian family was almost directly concluding new agreements with the Milfoils, who had somehow managed to become a kind of bridge between so many French families whose main income was from trade and transport. They threatened to become much more influential than before. Essentially turning the situation upside down, and with huge advantages. They could now become the leaders of an entire faction, uniting some very influential French families. In short, a trading giant could emerge any day if the alliance with the Italians was concluded.
I don't know if it was worth giving up when I had so few chances, but now I couldn't do anything. And in the future, perhaps the Milfoils would not refuse to become related to the House of Black, but for now, we play with what we have. And Amanda is very beautiful, intelligent, and has backbone.
So I should forget about the betrothal to Celine. I looked at Amanda — she didn't take her eyes off me either. It was so sweet that even I smiled with a foolish expression. But it was time to get to the main purpose of our private conversation.
***
The conversation reached a point where Arcturus cast a Silencing Charm. Amanda raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
"The rest will be about the betrothal."
She didn't start objecting. She just leaned forward slightly, indicating she was listening.
Arcturus began to explain. He spoke calmly, without unnecessary emotion, telling her about the difficulties in his relationship with his father. He laid everything out point by point, explaining the benefits and risks, not missing a single detail. Amanda listened without interrupting, and only at the end, when he fell silent, waiting for her reaction, did she nod.
"You're right," she said. "My grandfather and father clearly expect a betrothal to the future Lord Malfoy. So, I think such a clause will definitely be there."
Arcturus smirked.
"That's precisely why I think it would be useful to include a mandatory clause in the betrothal in my variation: Arcturus Malfoy must be officially declared the heir, both by will and by word."
Amanda smiled slyly.
"Good. Then I, for my part, will do everything to make sure my grandfather agrees to this clause."
They both smiled slyly, and there was much in common in those smiles. For each of them was hiding their own hidden agenda. Each believed they had outsmarted everyone else.
Arcturus would thus be able to guarantee his inheritance, while also having a way to break the betrothal himself. After all, if Lord Rosier didn't know about Lucius's doubts in choosing an heir, it was very possible that there was no clause preventing it.
"If my father values the betrothal, he will agree to this, and I will definitely be the heir."
Amanda was resolute on this matter, but if Arcturus truly needed guarantees of inheritance, rather than just creating a loophole to break the betrothal, Amanda would do it slightly differently, so that breaking the betrothal would become impossible.
While the two teenagers considered themselves smarter than everyone else, planning how to pull it off to their own advantage, the adults had entirely different plans and agreements, of which they were unaware. But now, in this cozy hall of "The Silver Key," they were pleased with each other and enjoyed each other's company, with neither enmity nor awkwardness between them.
They talked about this plan, then about Arcturus's transfer to another school, about politics, and about many other things. All of it interspersed with subtle flirting between the two teenagers. Amanda laughed when Arcturus started talking about Dumbledore, about Hogwarts, and about the students, and he smiled, listening to her caustic remarks about their classmates.
Time flew by unnoticed. The hour they spent together ended too quickly in their perception.
The first to arrive, surprisingly, was Marcus Avery. He entered the hall with a lazy gait, but upon seeing Arcturus and Amanda at the same table, he paused for a second. Then he smirked knowingly, rolled his eyes, but still spoiled their idyll. Then everyone else began to trickle in.
Each new arrival felt it was their duty to mention the Black inheritance that Arcturus had lost, since he had told everyone beforehand about his possible inheritance. But they all quickly noticed that this topic didn't upset Arcturus; only the trial itself slightly annoyed him, details of which had been in all the newspapers the past week. But overall, Arcturus looked calm and even content.
When everyone was gathered, they finally pressed the small silver bell in the center of the table. The sound was physically quiet, but the charms ensured it wouldn't go unheard by the house-elf who took orders on the second floor.
He was impeccably dressed in a white starched napkin tied around his skinny neck, holding a notepad and a quill in his hands.
During the quarter of an hour while the various dishes ordered by the Council members were being prepared, they managed to discuss some token questions, and then, after a lengthy meal of everything ordered, they could begin talking about more serious matters. And over a cup of tea with wonderful desserts, Arcturus finally, again, got down to business.
***
I leaned back in my chair, feeling the gazes of all six — Amanda, Dexter, Cassius, Marcus, Isabel — converge on me.
"Now the Council must function without me," I began, my voice steady and emotionless. "Avery and I have been preparing for this for a long time. We even wrote a whole emergency journal — with instructions for situations beyond all limits."
Amanda pursed her lips but remained silent.
I turned my gaze to Marcus, who sat with his usual lazy expression, but seriousness could be read in his eyes. He nodded in confirmation.
A lot of it was tied to future events. For I did not intend to return to Hogwarts. Perhaps for one year, towards the end of my studies, in the format of a student exchange. Because despite the agreements with Dumbledore, the first order of business during these six months would be to secure a full transfer to another school.
In the journal, I prescribed actions ranging from what to do if teachers started digging under the Council, to attacks by werewolves, trolls, questioning about the Council, recruitment into extremist structures like the Death Eaters. And even for cases where something happened to someone's family, health, and so on.
"Almost every case assumes first informing me," I said, "and then acting according to the instructions and your own judgment, but trying as much as possible to follow the guidelines."
"And if you can't reply?" Cassius asked. "Or if a decision needs to be made quickly?"
"Then you act according to the journal," I replied. "That's why it was written."
Silence fell. I saw them exchange glances, shadows of sadness appearing on their faces.
"I can't get used to the idea that you won't be here this term," Amanda said quietly.
"Neither can we," Cassius added. "It'll feel empty."
"It won't be empty," I replied. "You have your duties and our Council."
"What's with all this whining?" Blackmore said irritably, turning on his tsundere mode. "It's sickening, all your tears."
"He'll actually be the one crying the most," Avery said calmly, prompting a sharp reaction from Dexter and laughter from Cassius, and then we all laughed. But now wasn't the time for fooling around.
I looked around at everyone present, calming the guys down.
"Avery and Amanda will know more than the others. Not because I don't trust the rest, but because I don't want to write to everyone. If there's any doubt about the right course — though such cases are unlikely — just write to me, and I'll reply to you personally."
I didn't say that this was only to avoid singling anyone out on paper. In general, if I ended up in Durmstrang, even sending letters might not work. So I was hoping for Beauxbatons. Though whether they would be glad to see me was a big question.
"From now on," I continued, "the first-years must study completely independently. Without any interference or recruitment on our part. Even the second-years should be forbidden from recruiting first-years. This way, the Council won't provoke indignation from the upper-years and teachers. And more importantly, we'll be able to see what they're capable of in a truly unfriendly environment. Apparently, this unwritten rule arose for that reason, and we, by overstepping, began to spoil the natural order of things."
This unofficial rule turned out to be important for everyone at school. Even for the Headmaster. So better to avoid it, to avoid attention. I took a cup of tea, took a sip, moistening my throat, and continued my monologue.
"Already at Hogwarts, one of you will have a set of distinguishing symbols in the form of jewelry. They should be distributed to our loyal classmates and the most loyal, worthy ones from the second year. And in the summer, there will be new instructions. But for this term, that's all."
I set the cup aside, continuing to explain what was already in the Council's rules, but let them hear it from my lips, to ensure everyone followed them.
"The most important thing is that you must instill in everyone loyalty to the Council and to the one who created it. The main purpose of the Council, why it was created — is to form a unified elite stratum on the faculty, which in the adult world will become a passport to life and a strong alliance, the cream of which we will reap."
"But most of all — you," Isabel snorted, a barely perceptible mockery in her voice.
I smiled broadly.
"Yes."