The morning after the champions were selected dawned with a cold, gray aura due to the events, but Aurelian's mood was unbeatable.
He walked down the sixth-floor hallway, acting as an impromptu tour guide for Viktor Krum. The Bulgarian walked beside him with his hands behind his back and a frown on his face, recounting in his deep, monotone voice the events that had taken place in the antechamber after Aurelian had left the banquet.
Aurelian had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from laughing out loud in the middle of the hallway.
"And then," Viktor said, shaking his head, "little Potter stood in front of Madame Maxime, who is three heads taller than any of us, and shouted that he had confronted Voldemort. He said it with his chest puffed out, as if he expected us to give him a trophy or a medal. He's definitely still a little boy."
Aurelian snorted, covering his smile with a loud cough.
"And how did the others react?"
"Mainly with pity," Viktor admitted frankly. "Diggory tried to protect him, but Potter rejected him as if he had insulted him. That boy... he has too much ego for so little magical talent, at least from what I saw. He's going to be a problem when the tournament starts. Personally, I think he'll end up a corpse."
"Let's hope he doesn't cause any trouble," said Aurelian, secretly enjoying how his plan to inflate Harry's ego was working perfectly. The boy was definitely very naive.
They continued walking, and Aurelian changed the subject as he pointed out the staircases that changed location.
"That's one of the famous staircases at my school. As you can see, it likes to move, so be careful if you're in a hurry. Oh, and that tapestry over there hides a shortcut to the seventh floor," he said, pointing with his chin.
Viktor watched everything with critical but impressed eyes.
"Hogwarts is... impressive," Viktor conceded. "It's very different from Durmstrang. There's a lot of light here. A lot of noise. My school is... more austere. Less welcoming and more fortified. We don't have staircases that play tricks, we have mountains that protect us and frozen lakes that won't let you escape if you ever fall into them."
Aurelian nodded, very interested in learning more about that institution. He had always wanted to know the details about that fortress in the north.
"Speaking of Durmstrang," Aurelian began, lowering his voice slightly, "I've read stories. It is said that Gellert Grindelwald, before his expulsion from the school, left a mark on the castle. Is that true?"
Viktor paused and looked at Aurelian seriously.
"It's true," he confirmed. "It's not just a story."
The Bulgarian looked around to make sure no one was listening.
"On one of the stone walls of the main hall, he carved that famous symbol. The triangle, the circle, and the line. 'The Deathly Hallows'. Many students have tried to erase it over the years, but no matter how strong the magic, the drawing reappears. It's a very powerful spell."
"Fascinating... truly fascinating," Aurelian murmured.
"That's not all," continued Viktor, lowering his voice even further. "There are rumors that have been passed down from generation to generation at the school. It is said that Grindelwald had a private laboratory. A secret room where he carried out his dark experiments before he was discovered. The worst part is that it is still there, hidden somewhere in the foundations, full of his notes and possible failures. But no one has ever found it."
Aurelian's eyes gleamed with a hint of greed. The secret room of one of the most brilliant dark wizards in history... that was something worth investigating.
"An interesting legend, Viktor. Maybe one day it will be worth taking a tour of your school."
Before Viktor could reply, a shuffling sound and hissing breath interrupted them.
"Gaunt boy!"
Argus Filch appeared from behind a statue, holding his broomstick like a scepter. The caretaker's expression shifted from calm to sadness when he saw Aurelian.
"Mr. Filch," Aurelian greeted him, a warm and respectful smile forming on his face. "Good morning. How's everything going?"
"Badly, Gaunt, very badly," Filch complained, approaching him. "What happened last night was a tragedy. A complete farce. You should be the champion. That Potter boy and Diggory the badger aren't fit to shine your shoes. Hogwarts has lost its chance at victory by not having you in the arena."
Aurelian placed a hand on the old caretaker's shoulder, a gesture that made Filch straighten up.
"I appreciate your confidence, Argus. But Cedric is a good wizard. We must support him. Besides, I have other projects that require my attention... and the help of my most loyal collaborators."
Filch caught the hint about his experiments with the Arcane Patterns and nodded fervently.
Suddenly, the sound of laughter and paint splattering could be heard at the end of the hallway. Two second-year Gryffindor students were painting mustaches on a portrait.
Filch's face transformed into a mask of fury in a millisecond.
"YOU!" he bellowed, salivating. "YOU FILTHY LITTLE BEASTS! I'LL HANG YOU BY YOUR THUMBS IN THE DUNGEONS! COME HERE!"
Filch ran off with surprising speed for someone his age, waving his broom threateningly.
Viktor watched the scene with a raised eyebrow and let out an amused snort.
"That man... he's intense. A janitor with the temperament of a dragon. It's very curious that he respects you."
Aurelian watched Filch disappear around a corner and his smile widened.
"Don't underestimate him, Viktor. Magic has many ways of expressing itself."
Aurelian turned to his Bulgarian friend.
"Someday, I assure you, the entire wizarding world will know the name Argus Filch, and it won't be for cleaning the halls of Hogwarts. It will be for something that will change our society in ways you cannot imagine."
Viktor looked at Aurelian. He didn't understand what he meant, but there was such certainty in Gaunt's voice that he couldn't replicate it.
"If the great Lord Gaunt says so," Viktor replied with a nod, "then it's best to believe it."
Evening was falling on the castle as Aurelian made his way toward the painting with a fruit bowl in the basement hallway. He tickled the green pear, which laughed and turned into a doorknob, allowing him to enter the Hogwarts kitchens.
The place was bustling with activity and the occasional delicious aroma. As soon as he crossed the threshold, three house elves in clean uniforms with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on their aprons rushed towards him, bowing so low that their noses grazed the floor.
"Welcome!" they squealed in unison. "Your friends are waiting for you! This way, this way!"
The elves led him to a table tucked away in a quiet corner, far from the main ovens. The table was decorated with a white linen tablecloth, trays of cakes, chocolate frogs, and jugs of ice-cold butterbeer.
Sitting there, looking unusually serious, were Fred and George Weasley.
When they saw Aurelian arrive, they both jumped up.
"The man of the moment!" Fred greeted him, although his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.
"Thanks for coming, Aurelian," said George, pointing to the chair the elves had prepared. "Please, have a seat."
Aurelian sat down, crossing his legs and taking a cookie with curiosity. On the table was a worn leather briefcase that looked like it had seen better days.
"All right, gentlemen," Aurelian said with a smile. "I've been intrigued ever since you gave me that note. What is this clandestine meeting about? Are you going to blow up a toilet again?"
The twins exchanged glances. They took a deep breath, and at the same time, their faces changed.
"It's not always about pranks for the sake of pranks, Aurelian," Fred began. "There's always a reason for everything."
"It's about our future," George continued.
Fred reached out and opened the clasps on the briefcase.
"We present to you... our dream."
As the lid opened, a cardboard structure unfolded from inside the briefcase, growing into a detailed and colorful model of a multi-story store. A small sign flashed above the miniature entrance: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"People need to laugh, Aurelian," George explained, pointing to the model. "Especially in these dark times."
"We've designed a complete line of products," said Fred, pulling out scrolls full of graphs, cost calculations, profit margins, and complex diagrams. "Sangranarices nougat, Extendable Ears..."
For the next fifteen minutes, the twins presented their business plan with an intelligence that would have left their mother speechless. They were great inventors and entrepreneurs in the making. They had the product, they had a market to enter, but they lacked the gold.
When they finished, they both looked at Aurelian, panting a little from the intensity of the presentation.
Aurelian remained silent. His black eyes scanned the scrolls, analyzing the numbers. He was genuinely surprised. He knew they were smart, but this... this was amazing.
The silence dragged on. One second. Five seconds. Ten.
Fred and George began to sweat. Panic seized them. They thought Aurelian considered their idea childish nonsense.
"We can... we can give you more equity," Fred stammered desperately. "We know it's a risky investment."
"Forty percent!" George offered quickly. "No, wait, fifty! We'll give you half the company if you finance the launch."
"Seventy!" Fred shouted. "We just want to see this happen, Aurelian, please!"
Aurelian raised his hand, stopping the bidding, and a laugh escaped his lips.
"Stop, for Merlin's sake!" Aurelian laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to give away your company before you've even sold your first product."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and gave them a broad smile.
"It's brilliant, guys. Absolutely brilliant. Of course I'll finance you. I'll give you... a thousand galleons to start with. Better yet, I'll give you all the gold you need."
The twins froze, their mouths agape.
"Really?" whispered George.
"But on one condition."
The twins swallowed hard.
"Seventy percent?" asked Fred weakly.
"No," said Aurelian, his expression turning serious. "I'll only take twenty percent."
Fred and George blinked, confused. They looked at each other and then at Aurelian, as if he were speaking another language.
"Twenty?" repeated George. "But... Aurelian, we offered you half. You're putting up all the capital. Why would you accept so little? It's a bad deal for you."
Aurelian sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking at them with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
"I always have to remind you, don't I?" he said softly. "You are my friends. Friends don't take advantage of each other's dreams. You'll do the hard work. I'll just put up the gold, and I have plenty of that. I want you to succeed. That twenty percent will be more than enough for me when you're the kings of pranks."
The twins' composure broke.
The tension of years of being the "poor ones," of wearing second-hand robes and of no one taking their ambitions seriously, collapsed in the face of Aurelian's blind faith in them.
"Aurelian!" Fred moaned, his eyes filled with tears.
"You're the best damn bastard in the world!" George sobbed.
They both threw themselves on the table, ignoring the model, and hugged Aurelian around the shoulders, squeezing him in a tearful, snotty bear hug.
"Thank you! Thank you, friend!" they repeated as they patted him on the back.
Aurelian, trapped between the two sobbing redheads, could only laugh, awkwardly returning their embrace.
"Okay, okay" Aurelian said, "That's what friends are for, you damn idiots. Now let go of me, I don't want to be soaked with your tears."
Fred and George separated, wiping their faces with their sleeves, their smiles so bright they lit up the room.
"Deal!" shouted the twins.
"Deal!" confirmed Aurelian.
The three burst out laughing, toasting with butterbeer in the heart of the kitchens, sealing a pact that would change the future of two redheads forever.
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