บท 120: Chapter 119 - Dinner at Black Manor 02.
[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]
Third Person POV
London.
...
...
Paris was entering Black Manor through a fireplace using Floo Powder, as green flames burned around him, revealing him in one of the main corridors of the grand Black mansion.
He had gone out to meet some friends from other prominent pure-blood families in his sixth year, unaware of what was really happening that day at Black Manor. Upon arriving, he encountered someone he would never have expected to see right in front of him.
Severus Snape was there, standing in the middle of the corridor—the same person who had humiliated him several times that year at Hogwarts, starting with that kick he took to his private parts in the second week of school at the beginning of the year. That had hurt too much. Paris never imagined feeling such intense pain. After all, who was the wizard that would kick another's... with such force that it lifted him off the ground just to defeat him? It was shameful, disgraceful, nothing short of a thug disguised as a wizard to do such a thing.
After being taken to the infirmary, found on the ground by Lucas Nott, who had also been taken down by Bellatrix herself, Paris even had to ask the nurse Penelope if he would still be able to have children, which was a major embarrassment for him, fearing he might fail to pass on his pure-blood lineage.
That incident made it impossible for him to forget Snape, and other things had happened since that he could hardly deal with this guy. But now here he was, standing in front of him. His first reaction was disbelief, then denial, imagining it couldn't be Snape there—perhaps an illusion in this place, his own house, standing there as if he belonged and hardly noticing him, as he looked down the corridor. Then, the anger came, caring little about whether he believed it or not.
"What are you doing here, you bastard?!" he exclaimed immediately.
Snape, who had been looking down the corridor, turned to him with narrowed eyes. "What are you talking about, idiot? Who are you, anyway?" Snape responded calmly, while Paris could not be more enraged.
Paris first felt a bit of fear, as this really seemed to be the real Snape, and, as always, things never went well for anyone trying to deal with him. But then anger followed, thinking that since he was in Black Manor, he could handle him, or his grandmother could—no one would mess with her.
"How can this half-blood speak to me like that? I am a Black, and you are in my house!" Paris said as he moved forward, reaching for his wand. However, at that moment, Kreacher appeared before him.
"Master Paris, I ask you not to continue with this," Kreacher spoke in a severe and authoritative tone, his usual arrogant manner. He spoke like this to all members of the Black family, with the exception of Sirius's younger brother, Regulus, for whom he had a certain fondness.
"What are you saying, Kreacher? Why is this intruder here, and why has no one done anything?" he exclaimed immediately.
"The half-blood... I mean, Mr. Snape is here by invitation of your grandmother, and she has requested that he not be disturbed by anyone," he said.
"Huh? You can't be serious," Paris murmured, unable to believe it.
"That is a command from our lady. Master Paris, I ask that you respect it; you know the consequences if you do not obey Mistress Astraea," Kreacher spoke, leaving Paris speechless as Snape had already looked away from him.
"You're in poor form to take so long just to follow a corridor. I've been waiting here for some time…" Snape taunted, as all eyes turned precisely to that corridor, where Bellatrix was emerging, her clothes slightly tattered—nothing inappropriate exposed—but looking exhausted and glaring at Snape with hatred.
It was no surprise to Paris that Bellatrix had been subdued by Snape during the year. What left him stunned was the fact that this was happening inside Black Manor, as he wondered what exactly was going on here, after all, since Bellatrix was his grandmother's favorite, along with Regulus.
In her worldview, his grandmother would have tortured Snape in front of everyone as punishment as soon as she saw such a scene. But there he was, making Paris wonder what was truly happening.
"I hate you, did I ever tell you that?" Bellatrix growled at him.
"Then keep hating me; it'll give you more energy—use it in training..." Snape commented in a neutral tone. Bellatrix just clenched her teeth, unsure how to respond to his provocation; after all, Snape always had a quick retort ready.
Bellatrix was taken aback when Snape used his wand, watching as her clothes repaired themselves. She was wearing leather attire with arm and knee guards, having just completed a physical training session. She was exhausted. After all, she was a witch; using her body in a fight was something unimaginable for Bellatrix and most wizards.
She looked at him, surprised, as he had done something kind, perhaps for the first time with her. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling a bit awkward.
Snape shrugged. "It's fine. Anyway, something tells me the clients are arriving," Snape said, turning his gaze to the grim-faced house-elf standing beside Paris. Kreacher quickly glanced toward the door and vanished, while Snape made his way to the main hall on his own. "See? I'm going to meet them," Snape said and walked on.
In the hall, the house-elf entered along with the visitors: two clients, carrying booklets and folders, dressed in formal suits—two managers.
"I'll call my lady. Please, wait a moment," Kreacher said, disappearing promptly, as Snape approached those who would conduct the negotiation with him.
"Mr. Snape, good to see you again," said the manager who usually dealt with Snape, greeting him with respect and gesturing to his colleague. "This is my associate, manager of another department. We are here to guide your negotiation and ensure everything proceeds as you wish, without the Black family trying to take advantage."
"That's excellent. Thank you for coming," Snape appreciated their willingness, knowing that even earning a commission, the clients wouldn't easily do this if it were anyone else.
It wasn't long before Astraea appeared, Apparating and looking between Snape and the visitors. As he had mentioned earlier, the managers had come as soon as they received his letter.
"Please, follow me," Astraea said, maintaining a respectful tone, as the visitors followed her. Paris observed the scene from the corridor, shocked to see Snape disappearing with his grandmother and the visitors, heading to the upper floor.
"What is going on here?" he murmured, unable to contain his amazement.
"You'd better not stick your nose where it doesn't belong, Paris. Now, get out of my sight!" Bellatrix snapped, quickly heading to her room, still limping, leaving Paris even more puzzled about what had happened while he was away.
"Many things are happening on this day, Master Paris. Accepting it will be better for you," Kreacher said to Paris in a stern tone before disappearing to attend to another task.
Meanwhile, Snape was swiftly negotiating with Astraea, who organized all the documents she had on the shop. It was a shop they had tried to open to compete with Ollivanders, importing wands from wandmakers outside the country.
However, it had been a failure. Two years after purchasing the property, Ollivanders remained the most sought-after, and despite promotions and lower prices, the monopoly continued in the hands of England's famous wandmaker, perhaps the most renowned in all of Europe, as even wizards from outside England came to buy wands.
"I believe some documents are missing," Astraea commented, looking through the papers and noticing that certain items were absent. "Perhaps my sons took them without informing me, as we were negotiating with the Nott family."
"Don't worry about that, Miss Black. We retrieved the documents from your bank after receiving Mr. Snape's letter," one of the clients said, picking up a paper and handing it to her, leaving Astraea a bit surprised. The idea that the documents had been stored in her bank and that the clients themselves had checked it by accessing her vault for something like this was slightly offensive and disrespectful, but, after all, what could she do?
In any case, the goblins began filling out all the documents, officially naming Severus Snape as the owner of the shop. They asked several times if Snape truly wanted to purchase the shop for 200,000 Galleons, to which he nodded in agreement.
However, this deal would be concealed within Gringotts, invisible to the entire magical community. As long as the Black family did not reveal the sale, no one would know; the bank would keep the secret.
"We will transfer the deposit of 200,000 Galleons with no fee to your bank, due to the arrangement with Mr. Snape, one of our best clients," one of the goblins said, while Snape raised an eyebrow, as he hadn't even been their client for a year to merit such words.
Nonetheless, this undermined Astraea's earlier mocking about Snape not having resources, proving he did, in fact, have the funds and a special favor with the goblins, even securing a waiver on bank fees.
Had she truly known he had such wealth, she might have been less harsh, as it was hard for her to believe a half-blood could have such buying power. Still, knowing Snape better now, she wasn't surprised.
"I believe with this, we are almost closing the contract," the goblin said, as he scribbled the last lines and ended with a period. "Now, I need both of your signatures," he added, handing the quill to Snape. The paper floated to him, and Snape signed with a blood quill, as the contract was significant. The pain of being cut while writing his name didn't bother him at all. Astraea, next to sign, grimaced slightly but kept her gaze steady the entire time.
"I believe that with this, we have completed the negotiation. We will store all documents securely in both accounts, with the official document authenticated and a copy for Mr. Snape in our archives. I assume the Black family knows very well what will happen if this contract is violated, correct?" the goblin added with a threatening tone.
Astraea kept her stern gaze, though she felt a slight offense; she had to agree with the goblin.
"Well then, we are done here. I wish you success in your ventures, and we will maintain confidentiality, Mr. Snape," the goblins commented, saying their goodbyes to Snape as they headed toward the exit, ignoring Astraea as usual.
"I assume you will keep my name out of this, correct?" Snape asked one last time, while the goblins left, taking a potion to heal the wounds from the blood quill as Astraea nodded.
"Yes, you will remain hidden. You have my word; not even your presence here today will be recorded, and I will ensure it," she assured, already aware that reporters were at the entrance to the mansion.
"Good, take this; it will heal your hand," Snape threw her a potion. She caught it, surprised by the potion's purity and quality, now certain that he was the mysterious alchemist.
Meanwhile, a Thestral-drawn carriage stood in the manor's garden. The goblins climbed aboard, but their presence upon arrival had drawn attention, and magical reporters hurried to the entrance of Black Manor, eager to snap photos and find a headline for the next day.
Astraea drank the potion, seeing her cuts vanish, and turned back to Snape. "Mr. Snape, as I invited you for dinner, I also prepared a room for you with some clean clothes, should you wish to use them. So please make yourself comfortable," she remarked, observing him.
"Very well," Snape nodded in agreement.
Her gaze softened as she turned to the side. "Kreacher, come here," she called, and the house-elf appeared.
"Yes, my lady?" Kreacher asked.
"Take Mr. Snape to his room. I will be waiting for him with my family at dinner," she said. The elf, in a foul mood, nodded and began walking toward the door, beckoning Snape to follow him.
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