"Well, if you wish to wait, the session will end in a couple of hours," the receptionist added, unperturbed. "Afterward, he must bathe and be purified. Don't worry, we are extremely hygienic; when you receive him, not a trace will remain of what he did with the other clients. Of course, there will be an additional surcharge for a superior-grade revitalizing potion; Tom will need to be in peak condition to attend to you after such an effort, and we take great care of our merchandise. We do not allow their bodies to be damaged without due compensation."
Minerva was on the verge of exploding, her heart hammering against her ribs with rage and humiliation. But before she could utter a word, the air grew heavy and frigid.
"What's wrong, Minerva?"
A devilishly familiar voice caressed her ear, while hands with long, cold fingers encircled her waist in a possessive and perverse touch, embracing her from behind. Minerva froze. That presence was unmistakable; it was the scent of danger and dark power.
"Does our little kitten lack the patience to wait for her star to finish working?" Andra whispered with a malice that made her skin crawl. She extended a hand and traced Minerva's jawline with a single finger, forcing her to feel her dominance. "Perhaps you should go up and peek through the keyhole... to see how your dear Tom performs when he doesn't have to pretend to be a gentleman... you might... even like it..."
Minerva's skin bristled with a shiver. In a movement that was as much an instinctive reflex as a conscious decision, she broke free from Andra's grip and recoiled several meters, her wand already in hand and half-raised. Her heart hammered against her ribs; though her will commanded her to point directly at the woman, her instinct held her back. It was the ancestral fear of a prey that knows that, if it attacks, it will only accelerate the predator's pounce. Andra wasn't just dangerous; she was an anomaly that her own magic seemed to warn her not to provoke.
"Mmm... Why so evasive, Minerva?" Andra said, feigning a sense of betrayal that dripped with mockery and dominance. "It was only a hug... Are we not friends?"
"I do not consider you my friend... I barely know you," Minerva spat quickly, trying to raise a wall of coldness to protect herself. She remained tense, her eyes fixed on every slight movement the woman made.
"That hurts, Minerva. And to think I was the one who reunited you with the boy who did such an... impeccable job." Andra let out a soft laugh, loaded with perverse intent. "So good that he made you return, despite all the loathing you swore to feel for my trade and this place."
Minerva didn't even bother to reply. She knew that arguing with her was falling into her trap. Her instinct screamed at her to get out of there, that the air of the building had been laced with poison since that woman arrived.
"But, what if I introduced you to another of my workers?" Andra began to take slow, rhythmic steps toward her, marked by the clicking of her heels. "I assure you they will give you a time equal to, or even better than, what Tom can offer."
"No!" Minerva denied vehemently, raising her wand another inch. "I need nothing from you or this place. It was a mistake to come; I am leaving right now."
The flush of shame burned her cheeks as she noticed the silhouettes of other clients turning toward them.
"Oh... I see. Tom did an exceptional job." Andra stopped, feigning theatrical surprise while her eyes glinted with malice. "It seems he has taken possession of your insides as much as your heart. How romantic... and how tragic. But I suppose you are in a hurry to leave," she sighed with a resignation thick with irony.
"I am," Minerva replied, trying to recover a shred of the dignity she had left at the counter.
"Yes, I understand. After all, with the crisis Hogwarts is going through at this very moment, I am surprised the old man allowed you to be absent," Andra let slip casually, like someone commenting on the weather. "I wouldn't have allowed it; there are too many new fires to put out."
"Crisis?" Minerva stopped dead in her tracks, unable to even complete a full step.
She didn't want to pay attention to the woman's provocations, but her words had a gravitational weight. There was something in Andra's fatalistic tone that sounded like prophecy, a dark enchantment that forced her to listen.
"It's fascinating, don't you think?" Andra tilted her head, locking her playful gaze with Minerva's. "That boy who upset the entire Ministry... and let's not even talk about the students lost in the Amazon rainforest, or the poor Castelobruxo children petrified in your own hallways. Truly... it's too many tragedies for a simple school of magic, don't you think?"
Minerva turned pale. Surprise and dread fought for control of her features at this "news." She knew nothing of the Ministry, nor of Brazil, nor of the petrified students; the mere mention of such tragedies made her feel that her few days of rest had been criminal negligence. She had to return to Hogwarts immediately. She had to confirm if those words were a tortuous lie or the reality of a school crumbling in her absence.
However, when Minerva tried to push past Andra with a firm step and her gaze forward, the malicious woman let out a smile that boded no good. She uttered her next words with deliberate slowness, ensuring every syllable pierced the professor's pride.
"If you liked him enough to make you come back, perhaps I should call Tom to my bed," Andra said, licking her lips with a sibilant sound while an aura of oppressive lust began to emanate from her. "It's been a long time since I've tasted him... and, after all, he is my property. Perhaps if he pleases me enough, I'll decide to lock him away and keep him all to myself."
Minerva's expression shifted in an instant: from discomfort to volcanic fury. Her wand moved with lightning speed, an elegant and lethal stroke in the air. In a blink, one of the heavy oak chairs transfigured into a lioness with tensed muscles that leaped, roaring, toward Andra's throat.
Andra didn't even blink. She raised her own wand with insulting laziness and intercepted the feline mid-flight. The lioness exploded, reverting to wooden splinters with a dry thud that shook the narrow space between the two women. Minerva stepped back, stunned by the violence of the impact and the ease with which her magic had been nullified. Andra, conversely, remained impassive, as if she had just brushed a speck of dust from her robes.
"Or perhaps not, who knows. I have matters to attend to," Andra commented casually, downplaying the attack. "But Tom is one of my boys. I can do with him as I please, exactly like anyone who pays his fee." Andra stepped forward, forcing Minerva to hold her gaze. "I recommend you return soon, Minerva. Before Tom's penis wears down so much that it becomes permanently useless... I say it for your happiness, of course."
A deep terror seeped into Minerva's bones. She realized, with growing horror, that she had lost control; that she had jumped to defend Tom instinctively, sacrificing all her sanity. She had attacked impulsively, breaking decades of iron discipline. It was then she understood: Andra's mere presence was a catalyst for primal instincts. She forced those around her to act with violent impulsiveness, stripping them of all restraint. It was something as natural as a Veela's charm, but terrifyingly discreet.
The worst part wasn't Andra's power, but her indifference. She didn't seek retaliation; she smiled with perfect commercial courtesy, as if the lioness's attack had been nothing more than child's play. She was playing with her, stripping bare her soul and her morality, and Minerva had no defense against the assault.
Minerva did not allow herself to remain in that place for a single second longer. She felt that, if she did, the web of that poisonous spider would end up suffocating her until she herself, in a delirium of impulsiveness, might end up offering to work in the brothel. Without hesitation, and regardless of the tactical risk of turning her back on such a dangerous enemy, she ran toward the exit with her heart hammering in her ears.
"Safe travels, Minerva! Come back soon!" Andra's voice, laden with biting cheer, pursued the woman fleeing toward the light outside.
While Minerva escaped in terror and Andra returned to her professional indifference, the hall was plunged into an electrifying silence. The clients, hidden behind their veils of anonymity, were dumbfounded. They hadn't been able to identify the visitor due to the establishment's spells, but they had witnessed something unprecedented: a direct clash of magic against the regent and the perpetrator's clean getaway.
It wasn't the first time someone had caused trouble. Pretentious nobles, black-market hitmen, or envious competitors had tried to subdue that brothel in the past, attracted by its success and peculiarities. But no one—absolutely no one—had emerged victorious. This place was unbeatable, and Andra herself was known as the head of a dragon: as successful as she was terrifying. Anyone who had dared to raise a wand against her usually "disappeared" from the face of the earth or ended up paying compensations that ruined entire bloodlines.
However, this was the first time they had seen Andra be directly attacked, only to bid the aggressor farewell with a smile and an invitation to return. It was a total breach of the iron code that governed the establishment... or what these clients believed it to be.
Curiosity began to seep through the cracks of anonymity. They wanted to know who that woman was, what power she held to receive such exceptionally indulgent treatment. Some, ignoring the pleasure they had paid for, hurried out to inform their respective "bosses." Others, less bold, tried to coax information from the staff, desperately seeking the name of the stranger who had challenged the owner and lived to tell the tale. They obtained nothing.
Andra had already instructed her staff on how to manage the "McGonagall affair." Despite her immense responsibilities, she oversaw every detail of that interaction with almost religious devotion. It was the ultimate proof of her loyalty: even though Red's recent weakening had reduced the magical pressure he exerted on her, Andra never ceased to execute his orders with the same absolute priority as always. To her, her master's wishes remained the only law, even as the outside world began to burn.
Ignoring the chaos her brief interaction had unleashed among those present in the brothel, she returned to her office to draft a contingency plan for a possible return by Minerva. With her boss weakened and occupied with his own affairs, the workload on her shoulders had multiplied; now, a large part of the responsibilities were relegated directly to her. Not only did she have to deal with Minerva's visits, but she also had the task of researching various magical races and acting as a diplomatic envoy in a series of clandestine meetings with these species.