The man in black robes went downstairs and then slipped out through the back door, likely heading toward Diagon Alley—or more probably Knockturn Alley.
Seizing the moment, Sean activated his Magic vision and scanned the figure. The man radiated the magical power typical of an adult wizard, roughly on par with Jamie standing nearby. But within that white aura, Sean could faintly see streaks of black. He wanted to take a closer look, yet the man had already disappeared through the back door.
When Sean went downstairs after putting away his luggage, he asked Old Tom at the counter, "Old Tom, who was that person who just left?"
Old Tom replied, "Sounded like a foreign wizard from the accent. Stayed here for two nights. Checked out today."
Sean felt uneasy. The black magical aura—he had only ever seen something like that on Voldemort's Horcruxes. Even Yovich, that Death Eater, had a white magical aura.
Sean once suspected that black magic might be related to death. Voldemort's Horcruxes required murder to create. Compared with the dark spells Sean had mastered—Ghoul's Kiss, Witch's Eye, and Dragonfang Saw—Horcruxes were true evil.
"Could that person have been Voldemort?"
Almost unconsciously, Sean began walking toward the back door.
"Sean, where are you going? What about my beer?" Jamie suddenly called out.
Sean snapped back to reality and stopped in his tracks. He suddenly felt like slapping himself twice.
"Are you an idiot? Even if it really was Voldemort, what's it got to do with me? Am I trying to chase him down just to die?"
Sean cursed himself in his mind, then composed his expression and brought Jamie his beer from the counter.
If the sky collapsed, there would always be someone taller to hold it up. Sean had no reason to risk his life over something that might not even be true. Besides, it was only a guess. Logically speaking, Voldemort wouldn't appear in London right now.
He was still extremely weak, hiding in the forests of Albania, possessing small animals.
"Whatever. Diagon Alley has Aurors around these days. Even if he's a Death Eater, he wouldn't dare cause trouble."
On the fifth day of the holidays, Hogwarts' report cards arrived by owl. Out of Sean's eight subjects, he received seven Outstanding grades and one Dreadful. Even so, the results filled Hearns with pride.
"Seven Outstandings, Sean—you're a genius."
Hearns naturally ignored the flying lesson grade. In his view, it didn't matter. Sean wasn't planning to become a Quidditch player anyway. One poor grade in flying was insignificant. That was also why Hearns never mentioned the flying class whenever he bragged about Sean's grades.
During the summer holidays, the Leaky Cauldron was especially bustling with business. Years ago, Sean had suggested that Old Tom spend some money renovating the bar's style, but Old Tom flatly refused, insisting that the place had a sense of historical weight.
The Leaky Cauldron had existed since the early sixteenth century. More than four hundred years of history had turned this small pub—situated at the crossroads between the magical world and the Muggle world—into a sort of barometer.
If the Leaky Cauldron ever became quiet and empty, it would mean the wizarding world was facing hard times.
The last day of July was Harry's birthday, though Sean didn't make any special note of it. He was chatting with Kurt, preparing to use the Floo Network later to visit Malfoy Manor.
Old Tom knew Lucius had invited Sean, so he couldn't very well stop him. In the end, he gave Sean the day off.
"Rose Manor," Sean said clearly as he followed Kurt and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire.
With a bang, green flames wrapped around Sean's body, and he vanished in an instant. When he appeared again, he was standing inside the luxurious fireplace of the Malfoy family home.
Sean glanced around the hall. There was only one word for it—wealthy.
Sean himself might be poor, but in his previous life he had seen plenty of videos of the mansions owned by rich people online. Lucius's home was indeed impressive, though not enough to leave him completely dumbstruck.
"Uncle Lucius, this is Sean Grylls," Kurt introduced.
A middle-aged man with long blond hair looked at Sean with a proud expression. The condescending gaze made Sean feel somewhat amused.
"A traitor acting all high and mighty," Sean thought to himself.
"Sean Grylls, welcome to Malfoy Manor," Lucius said, tilting his head slightly upward.
"Sir, the honor is mine," Sean replied with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
At that moment, a small blond boy with slicked-back hair walked downstairs. He looked at Sean with curiosity.
"Father, who is he?" Draco asked.
"Sean Grylls of Slytherin. The most outstanding student in his year," Lucius said.
Lucius didn't seem to deliberately downplay Sean's talent. Outstanding was outstanding, and besides, Sean was a Slytherin. If he had been from Gryffindor, Lucius's attitude would certainly have been different.
Lucius's introduction carried a deeper meaning. He had high expectations for Draco, hoping that when Draco entered Hogwarts next year, he would also perform brilliantly and bring honor to the Malfoy name.
Draco, however, seemed somewhat unconvinced. His father had just praised another boy in front of him.
"When I start school, I'll be even better than you," Draco said, staring at Sean.
Sean simply smiled without replying. Inwardly, he thought, The sky's cleared, the rain's stopped, and little Draco thinks he's invincible again.
Lucius had Dobby prepare some fruit and chilled drinks and bring them to the manor's garden pavilion. The four of them sat around the table chatting about Hogwarts—and about Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore actually chose Charlie Weasley. Making a Weasley the captain of the Hogwarts team—what an insult to the Malfoy family," Kurt said bitterly.
"I think he's getting old. He can no longer judge what the right decision is. Perhaps it's time for a new headmaster," Lucius said.
"Sir, Dumbledore holds great prestige at Hogwarts. Both professors and students support him," Sean replied.
"Then we'll make him lose that reputation."
Sean said nothing. In his heart, he thought, Give me a break. You think you can play games with old Dumbledore? You're not even close.
"This will require your help, Sean," Lucius said with a faint, meaningful smile.
Sean felt a chill run down his spine. What scheme was this scoundrel planning now? Surely he wasn't plotting something that involved him.
Lucius stood up and left for a moment. With his father gone, Draco became much bolder.
"You're also a Boy Who Lived?"
"What do you think? Your aunt Bellatrix still wants to kill me," Sean said lightly, as if being hunted were nothing at all.
"I've never met her. Maybe she saw me when I was a baby. My father says she's always been in Azkaban," Draco said.
"Last Christmas, Sean almost got killed by Bellatrix's people," Kurt added from the side.
Draco's interest was immediately piqued. He wanted to ask for more details, but Lucius was already walking back toward the pavilion, so he had to drop the subject.
Lucius carried a stack of books in his hands. Judging by their covers, every single one was brand new. He placed them on the table in front of Sean.
"These are the textbooks for second year. You won't need to buy them when school starts."
When someone shows kindness without reason, there's usually a hidden motive—especially someone like Lucius, a hypocrite through and through. Would he really give Sean brand-new textbooks out of pure goodwill? Why? Just because he was an outstanding Slytherin student?
"Sir, I can't accept your kindness," Sean said. "Kurt must have told you that I hardly attend classes at Hogwarts. The textbooks are useless to me. Besides, I already have the second-year books."
Years ago, Hearns had pieced together Sean's textbooks for years one through three from a junk shop. Each one was practically an heirloom.
Lucius remained insistent.
"Perhaps this one will interest you."
He lifted the books on top, revealing a volume titled The Stalker of Albania.
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