Author's Note
For this second part, I used an outside contractor to edit my words. Let me know if you notice a difference and if you like it.
XXX
Story Arc: Welcome to Hogwarts
Episode 1: A Teacher for the DADA Class (IV)
Chapter 4: Negotiations
Plot: Negotiations have begun; what will be the price to pay to bring Boston's Occult Detective to Hogwarts?
XXX
Narrator's POV
The temperature in the train car has dropped as if winter had suddenly arrived.
"My brother is an Ice King in more ways than one," Adeline said, rubbing her hands together for warmth. The Diva is accustomed to the warm beaches of Los Angeles.
"I got the message. I apologize for how the last job I offered you ended. I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you somehow, and for your next birthday, I'll ask you what you want. No joke gifts." Zelretch said, speaking seriously.
The temperature in the carriage had returned to normal. Zelretch sighed in relief.
'I defused the ice bomb before it exploded.' Zelretch thought, happy to have resolved the situation, even if he won't be able to give any funny gifts next year.
"Dumbledore, Zelretch, explain in detail the job you want to offer me." Bruce said, taking the plate with the slice of cake and fork.
"Tsundere." Adeline muttered softly.
Belmont opened a drawer in his desk and took out a packet of salted crisps and a packet of chocolate wafers.
He threw the first packet in Adeline's face, while keeping the second for himself.
XXX
About ten minutes later.
Bruce puts down his plate, now completely empty, as does the packet of chocolate wafers.
Dumbledore explained the trouble he faced finding a qualified teacher for the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts; Zelretch also chimed in.
"Leaving aside the feud between a Headmaster of a magical school and a Minister of Magic, you want me, a detached outsider, to teach children how to deal with Night Creatures and monsters in human skin?" Bruce asks, giving a brief summary of the situation.
"Yes, the Ministry is keeping all qualified teachers away from my school. Zelretch advised me to take an outside element that cannot be touched by the British Minister for Magic." Dumbledore said, having no other option.
"I admit I'm surprised to get such a request. This is an unusual job for me and very low risk by my standards," said Bruce, never having thought of becoming a teacher at a real magic school.
"Judging by your resume, you'd be perfect for the position. You have a lot of experience, and the people who have become your apprentices have gone far, some of them real big shots," Adeline said, sounding like she was trying to convince her brother to take the job.
"Teaching a few people at a time isn't like teaching a whole class," Bruce said, not too sure about taking the job.
"Professor X, Wolverine, Doctor Strange, El-Melloi II, and Noel Vermillion have asked you to help with their students, and you've been an excellent substitute," Adeline said, knowing the cases her brother has had to play Occult Professor.
"I was just returning a favor to some people who taught me when I was a teenager," Bruce said, not considering those instances as real teaching work.
"What do you call what you did in Academy City of Kivotos and SCHALE Club?" Adeline asks, knowing almost all the adventures her brother has had throughout his life.
"Those girls weren't witches, they were more like a variant of the Sankta, only younger, more colorful, and much more obsessed with firearms. I was more of a tactical advisor and paramilitary instructor than a classroom teacher," Bruce explains, considering teaching warfare in the field to be entirely different from teaching magic in the classroom.
"When the day was over, those students were little girls and teenage girls who needed the guidance and support of a Sensei. And from what I heard, you were too good a Sensei. When you left, all those girls were heartbroken and started crying," Adeline said, insinuating that there was something more between her brother and the female students at Kivotos.
The Occult Detective took from his coat a small rectangle of dull metal, no bigger than a button.
In the center, an incision in the shape of a
Stylized clock. He placed it on the desk and, for a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a shiver of purple light ran along the grain of the furniture, transforming the smooth surface into an ocean of data.
Chronological grids and streams of names began to float across the surface, responding to the touch of his hand as if the desk had become the screen of a smartphone.
'This is a kind of magic I've never seen before.' Dumbledore thinks, watching the entire scene with interest.
'I'm lucky that Wizards like Dumbledore can't distinguish advanced science from magic, I don't have to explain myself.' Zelretch thinks, happy at his old friend's misunderstandings.
For a few seconds the Occult Detective interacts with the interface on his desk, maintaining a neutral expression.
Without saying anything, Bruce takes his trinket and puts it back in his pocket, returning the desk to normal.
Then he opens a desk drawer and takes out a glass jar filled with dice of various shapes, colors, and materials.
"One last check," announces the Occult Detective.
He pours the dice onto the wooden desk: a clatter of plastic and resin ricocheting among the files. The polyhedra roll, collide, and finally stop, revealing faces engraved with numbers and arcane symbols.
"What is he doing?" Dumbledore asks Zelretch in a low voice.
Bruce strokes his chin, his gaze lost in the reflections of the colored faces. He stares at the dice as if they were a cosmic enigma or an astral painting that only he holds the key to deciphering.
"When Belmont has a decision to make, the outcome of which he doesn't care a bit, he tosses his old gold coin. In more complex matters, he uses dice, and when he's serious, he uses tarot cards." Zelretch whispered in Dumbledore's ear.
"An alchemist who can create homunculuses, get Zelretch to apologize, and knows fortune telling. He's certainly a peculiar individual," Dumbledore thinks, growing increasingly intrigued by this Belmont.
"My schedule is pretty empty and the dice seem to be in favor of a change of scenery." Bruce declares, finally shifting his gaze to his guests.
"I might accept the job, provided the middleman's pay matches the omen," Bruce said.
As he banged the jar on the desk, the dice came to life: they popped into the container, followed closely by the lid, which sealed with a snap.
"You, Zelretch, are the contractor; you pay me to take on the job, so don't be a cheapskate. I'm only interested in your merchandise, or you'll see what an ice-breathing dragon can do." Bruce said, locking eyes with the Wizard Marshal.
As he spoke those words, a thin layer of frost bloomed on the glass of the freshly closed jar, and the warmth in the room seemed to vanish in an instant.
Zelretch nodded, realizing that this was no time to be foolish: risking his newly earned goodwill meant exposing himself to cold retaliation.
"You, Dumbledore, are my employer, and I am the one who possesses the knowledge and skills you need to instruct your students." Bruce said, turning his good eye on the old wizard with the long, white beard.
That single gray eye of the Occult Detective had returned to a cold silver, shining like living metal.
"I seek no friendship or favors, and I am not interested in your money. I will carry out my task my way: your students will learn to fight and defend themselves from what lurks in the dark. You will pay me a decent salary, not a penny more, not a penny less, and you will not dare interfere with my lessons or drag me into your squabbles with the Ministry of Magic. Is that clear?" Bruce finished his sentence by slamming the jar down on the desk.
The blow was so sharp that it made the entire train carriage jolt, but the guards (Karna and Arjuna) and the animals remained motionless, like statues of salt.
Only Adeline, his twin, gave a hint of an amused smile, enjoying the way her brother was cornering the principal.
Dumbledore remained silent, studying the man before him.
'He does the work of a detective, but he talks and acts like a king; and he has the eye of a dragon,' thought Dumbledore, almost amused.
"Zelretch wasn't lying: he's the best candidate, but he'll be a nearly impossible beast to tame. Hogwarts is in for a very... interesting year." Dumbledore mused, suppressing a smile that hadn't graced his lips in a long time.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts knew that the best move was to let his enemies bother the dragon; he would simply keep an eye on it and carry out his duties, letting Bruce's nature do the rest.
"My dear brother, wherever you go, you are a king; it is your gift and your curse. I understand why women fall in love with you and men are ready to march to hell to knock angels from heaven," Adeline said, savoring every moment of that spectacle.
"If by any chance my career on stage or in museums ends, I'll become your Watson or your Zatanna; then I can have fun forever," the golden-eyed woman said playfully.
It was clear: Adeline shared Zelretch's nature, that vibrant pleasure in seeing the threads of destiny intertwine in a unique spectacle.
"Once I take a job, nothing and no one can stop me. But my con artist mother taught me one thing: If you're good at something, never do it for free," Bruce said.
Her voice had become sweet as honey, a velvety caress that clashed terribly with the icy aura she emanated.
"Zelretch, this time... how do you intend to pay me?" the Occult Detective asked, imperiously beckoning the Wizard Marshal closer, like a mythical beast demanding an offering from a terrified noble.
Zelretch has seen worse, he's not afraid of Belmont, he's worked with him since he was a 14-year-old boy, dressed in an old, oversized leather jacket, and his only weapons were a revolver and a sentient grimoire. But he knows that the more time passes, the stronger he'll become, and one day he might forge a bullet with his name on it. So better to treat him well, with a little playfulness and professionalism.
"Once I take a job, nothing and no one can stop me. But my con-artist mother taught me one thing: if you're good at something, never do it for free. Zelretch, this time... how are you going to pay me?" Bruce asks, speaking in a voice as sweet as honey.
Bruce motioned for the Wizard Marshal to come closer, a slow, imperious gesture, as if a mythical beast were demanding an offering from a noble.
Zelretch had seen worse and felt no awe for Belmont. He'd known him since he was a fourteen-year-old boy, lost in an old leather jacket too big for him, armed only with a revolver and a sentient grimoire.
However, the Wizard Marshal was a man of foresight: he knew that the more time passed, the stronger Bruce became. He knew that, one day, Belmont might forge a bullet with his name engraved on it. Better to negotiate, then; better to mix professionalism with a touch of playfulness to maintain that balance.
"You are about to become the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a prestigious school with a centuries-old history. To mark the occasion, I have decided to stay on topic and offer you payment in the form of perfect replicas of some of the most famous artifacts associated with that school," Zelretch said.
He spoke with the vibrant tone of a showman, placing himself with a theatrical gesture in front of the Occult Detective's desk, almost as if he wanted to challenge his authority with his exuberance.
Adeline gave a small, amused round of applause, while Bruce remained as still as an ice king, his gaze fixed beyond Zelretch's form.
"Dumbledore, how many months does the Hogwarts school year consist of?" Bruce asked. He needed to determine whether the gifts offered were truly worth his time.
Typically, a single artifact or rare book could secure his services for a few weeks, perhaps a month if he was in a good mood or the situation was challenging. But a long-term assignment came at a significantly higher price.
"The school year consists of ten months." Dumbledore replied, stepping aside.
The Headmaster knew well when it was time to speak up and when it was best to let those who knew more than him get the job done. After all, in chess, as in life, everyone has their role.
At that moment, there was an empty spot on Dumbledore's mental chessboard that was about to be filled by a unique piece; but it was not his place to move it.
Only Zelretch had the means to place that impregnable tower or that indomitable dragon on his side.
Through a distorted mirror, Dumbledore felt he could see himself in the Wizard Marshal; and in Bruce, however dimly, he saw the crossed shadows of Harry and Tom.
'I'm getting old if I start seeing ghosts of the past and present reflected in others.' Dumbledore thought with a hint of bitterness.
He looked away, feeling the weight of decades weighing on his shoulders as he watched the Detective and Wizard Marshal deal with each other.
"You know, Belmont, I never know which is your greatest trait, your endless ambition or your abysmal thirst for knowledge?" Zelretch asks, starting with a little game.
"Good question, Zelretch, I don't know the answer either." Adeline said, not knowing what her brother loves more, the sword and books.
"The threat of excommunication may return, less circus and more display of the merchandise," Bruce said, tapping his fingers on the desk, a sign of curiosity about the merchandise.
"You know, Belmont, I never know which is your dominant trait: your endless ambition or your abysmal thirst for knowledge?" Zelretch asked, beginning his usual dramatic prologue.
"Good question, Zelretch. I don't know the answer either." Adeline interjected, her gaze flickering between her brother and the wizard. She knew Bruce loved his sword and his books with the same fierce intensity.
"The threat of excommunication can always come back. Less circus, Zelretch, and more display of the goods." Bruce cut him off.
His fingers drummed on the icy desk in a sharp rhythm, an unmistakable sign of his impatience.
After all, with his unique magic, the Wizard Marshal could have achieved anything within the folds of reality.
"First offering: Salazar Slytherin's Locket." Zelretch announced, placing a solid gold necklace on the desk. A serpentine "S," inlaid with sparkling green stones, seemed almost to move under the light of the carriage.
"This item is no mere relic; it grants its bearer benefits few kings could dream of. It prevents any other from removing it, shields from all tracking, be it magical or earthly, and fortifies the mind with impenetrable shields for your own secrets... or sharp swords to extirpate those of others." Zelretch explained, his voice heavy with promise.
"It has support functions like mental acceleration and thought splitting, empowering every fiber of your magic. Inside, you'll find an expanded storage space filled with trinkets and treasures, with room for many more. And, of course... it has a few extra tricks you'll only discover by wearing it." Zelretch concludes the presentation.
The Wizard Marshal slid the medallion onto the desk with the nonchalance of someone moving a pawn.
The solid gold made a dull sound, as the serpentine S seemed to watch Bruce with its green stone eyes.
Bruce lifted the medallion with precise fingers, holding it suspended in the space between himself and Adeline. They both remained silent, studying the serpentine S with an intensity that seemed to be peeling away the gold to find its soul.
There was no need for words between them: the twins were weighing not only the value of the artifact, but the trail of power and danger that such an object carried with it.
Bruce's silver eye and Adeline's watchful gaze converged on the green stone, which shone with a hypnotic light, almost as if it were a third eye watching them in turn.
Zelretch remained still, enjoying that moment of pure aesthetic and magical appreciation.
"Zelretch, what you offered... is it really a retort?" Dumbledore asked, suspicion creasing his brow.
"Yes, it's not the amulet your Salazar Slytherin created. Don't ask me how I got it; believe me, you don't want to know." Zelretch replied with an enigmatic smile.
The Wizard Marshal failed to mention that, only a few months earlier, he had traveled to a parallel earth where a zombie plague had wiped out humanity. He had plundered the treasures of the Four Founders without issue, amidst the ruins of a ghostly Hogwarts, where undead wizards were no longer capable of casting even the simplest spell.
"Brother, this medallion would be immensely useful to you." Adeline observed, never taking her eyes from the gold.
"I was given the talent for mind magic; you, however, only know how to defend yourself from that kind of attack." Adeline said, knowing their mutual strengths well.
Perhaps due to blood, their twin nature, or unique circumstances, their magical talent had been broken in two.
There were areas in which both excelled, but in others one was an unparalleled genius and the other a hopeless case.
Adeline was a natural telepath and a master of spatial manipulation, capable of healing fatal wounds and weaving light magic—arts at which Bruce was completely helpless.
Bruce, on the other hand, was a titan of telekinesis and a master of time manipulation. He could kill with a simple touch and dominated shadows and darkness with a ferocity Adeline could never match.
"Don't say I'm helpless. You know very well that nothing and no one can rule my mind: I'm too crazy and twisted to be tamed." Bruce retorted, his voice becoming hard as stone again.
"I have my own methods for countering mental invasions. Anyone who dares enter finds my mind a labyrinth of horrors, a partially radioactive and cursed place. But I admit... this would be a useful trinket." He concluded, placing the medallion on the desk, but keeping it close to him.
A possessive gesture that went unnoticed by anyone in the room. Bruce had just claimed his first piece of the treasure.
"The trinket is nice. I like snakes, and it will be a useful addition to my collection." Bruce replied, sounding like he was doing an old friend a favor.
"However, for this I can only give you a month of my service. In exchange, I promise you that I will not do the bare minimum: I will commit myself to them as if they were my chosen students," Bruce said seriously.
Zelretch inclined his head, weighing the proposition.
"A month is a short time, Belmont... but getting a service of your quality is worth the sacrifice." The Wizard Marshal admitted, accepting the challenge.
"We have satisfied your ambition. Now," Zelretch said with a smile that promised universal secrets.
"It's time to satisfy your thirst for knowledge. Here is Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem," Zelretch said mysteriously.
The Wizard Marshal pulled out a finely crafted silver tiara, with eagle wings framing a sapphire as deep blue as a nighttime ocean.
On the surface shone the engraving: "Ingenuity beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
"It doesn't just increase wisdom," Zelretch explained, his voice vibrating with academic excitement.
"It clears your mind of all distractions, granting you absolute clarity and a photographic-perfect memory. It allows you to access the memories of anyone who has worn it before you, including Rowena herself. But there's more, Belmont..."
Zelretch leaned forward, lowering his tone.
"This diadem is often said to increase wisdom; in reality, it does much more," Zelretch explained, his voice dropping a note, laden with an ancient gravity.
"Once worn, it enhances intelligence, creativity, and problem-solving in ways ordinary logic cannot even begin to grasp. It clears the mind of all distractions, granting unparalleled clarity of thought. It also accelerates perception: the wearer sees events pass more slowly, gaining precious time to reflect while the world around them remains still," Zelretch said, running a finger along the silver of the tiara.
"It grants you an absolute photographic memory: you can recall every detail you've ever learned and retain every new knowledge you acquire perfectly while wearing it, even after you take it off. This generates such intuition and inspiration that anyone who wears it is exceptionally inventive. But the real miracle is something else: the diadem amplifies the ability to interpret visions of the past, present, and future." Zelretch said, looking Bruce straight in the eye.
"You can pour your memories into it, and even more preciously, access those of those who have worn it before, including the legendary Rowena Ravenclaw herself. It is a collective treasure trove of wisdom and experience, a direct bridge to the mind of a Founder. It is, indeed, the ultimate artifact for anyone who yearns for the truth." Zelretch concludes his explanation of the second artifact.
Zelretch slid the diadem across the desk, making it clink next to the golden medallion.
The contrast between the Ravenclaw silver and the frost that still covered the wood made the atmosphere almost unreal.
Adeline looked at the blue sapphire, then shifted her gaze to Bruce's tense profile. A mischievous smile played on her lips.
"Brother, if Zelretch were a woman, you'd probably sleep with her and father her a child just to have such a trinket," Adeline said with a hint of amusement.
Zelretch burst into a loud laugh, not at all offended, while Dumbledore coughed embarrassedly, looking away at the scenery outside the window.
Bruce, for his part, didn't blink; his silver eye remained fixed on the tiara, as if already calculating the weight of every single memory within the Diadem and its functions.
At that moment, Carmen, Bruce's raven, slipped out of her cage and perched on the Occult Detective's right shoulder.
The bird began to move with nervous jerks, cawing softly as if whispering secrets directly into her ear.
Bruce then turned to the left, in Adeline's direction; but his gaze did not meet his sister's, remaining fixed in space, as if he were scrutinizing a ghost visible only to him.
"You offered me something of the utmost value, Zelretch. I cannot deny it," Bruce admitted, his voice low and monotonous.
"I don't need a perfect memory; I already have it; and I know well the techniques to accelerate my mind and divide it into seven autonomous parts. I'm not a genius like Adeline in this field, but the years have taught me a lot." Bruce explained, there was no envy in his tone, only the cold acceptance of two different natures.
"But enhancing my divination abilities... that is a rare gift." Bruce said, touching the silver of the diadem.
"Some features of this item could dramatically accelerate my personal project," Bruce admitted.
His good eye seemed to dilate, pointing toward a distant horizon, a place and time that did not yet exist except in his mind.
"By reverse-engineering Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, I could accelerate the creation of the Sarkaz's Black Crown. Instead of five hundred years, I could hold my own Eternal Civilight in my hands in less than two centuries, at best," Bruce explains fervently.
In the Occult Detective's mind, that diadem was the equivalent of an antiquated steam engine: a rudimentary technology, but necessary to generate the spark that would lead him to the "space engine" represented by the Black Crown.
Zelretch smiled, visibly pleased by the Occult Detective's boldness.
"Typical of you, one eye on the past, one eye on the future, even if you only have one. So, Belmont, how much is the key to your Eternal Civillight worth to you?" Zelretch asks, purposely mentioning the final stage of Belmont's long-term project.
The genie didn't answer immediately. He moved the Diadem next to the Medallion, forming a small constellation of power on the desk.
"Give me a minute to think." Bruce said, closing his eye and thinking.
"Zelretch... does that replica of yours actually contain Rowena Ravenclaw's memories?" Dumbledore asked quietly, almost fearing the answer.
"And who are these... Sarkaz? What is Eternal Civilization?" asks Dumbledore, having many questions.
Zelretch turned to him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Let's just say there's a lot of stuff in this Diadem that talks about Rowena Ravenclaw and her descendants, Albus," Zelretch said, keeping everything vague.
"As for the Sarkaz... think of them as a race of ancient, tormented magical creatures that Belmont knows all too well. Their most sacred treasure is the Black Crown, the crown of their kings. Bruce has set his sights on replicating it." Zelretch said, choosing his words carefully, tailoring them to the Headmaster's understanding, but without revealing the horror or majesty of the dimensions from which those stories came.
The minute passed slowly, punctuated by the heavy beating of a dragon's heart. Then Bruce's silver eye opened again, bright and cold as a freshly sharpened blade.
"Three months for the Diadem." Bruce declared, his firm voice putting an end to any possible bargaining.
"In exchange, I will provide the students with textbooks designed and written by me. Free of charge." Bruce declared, his voice firm and brooking no argument.
"And that's not all: I will donate to the Hogwarts library copies—I emphasize, copies, not the originals—of three hundred volumes selected from the private collection of House Belmont." Bruce spoke the name with a note of austere pride.
Those texts, inherited from his maternal side of the family, were the legacy left by all the Belmonts who came before him.
Dumbledore's eyes widened, aware of the inestimable value of such knowledge.
"They deal with how to deal with monsters," the Occult Detective continued, touching the sapphire of the Diadem.
"How to track them down, how to kill them, and most importantly, how to dissect their carcasses to turn them into magical artifacts and tools. Those books will remain at Hogwarts even after I'm gone. It will be my gift to Rowena Ravenclaw and her Diadem." Bruce declared, stroking his new headpiece.
His long fingers began to caress the silver of his new headdress, almost as if it were a living animal.
"Consider this my personal gift to Rowena Ravenclaw... a tribute to the value of her Diadem." Bruce said, placing the artifact down next to the locket.
Dumbledore bowed his head slightly, an old-fashioned gesture of courtesy that served to mask his shock at the "surgical" methods Bruce had described.
"Thank you, Belmont. Despite the circumstances, yours is a valuable donation." said the Headmaster of Hogwarts, his voice calm but firm.
"It's hard to refuse an offer like that. Three months for the Diadem, then. We're four months into our contract. Six more to go, Bruce." Zelretch declared.
The Mage Marshal projected confidence, but inwardly he was recalculating his reservations; he knew that negotiating with a Belmont was like trying to feed a dragon without losing an arm. He wanted to end this deal without finding himself empty-handed or, worse, literally without clothes on his back.
Adeline crossed her legs, watching with amusement as Zelretch's fingers rummaged through the folds of her robe.
"You've been successful so far, Zelretch," the twin murmured, her voice vibrating with a subtle malice.
"But will you be able to keep up this streak? My brother isn't a man who settles for scraps. Are you sure you still have something worth six months of his life?" Adeline asks, her voice soft.
"Do you doubt my collection, Golden Diva?" Zelretch asks, shooting Adeline a look of mock disdain.
"Maintaining success is an art." Zelretch replied, looking back at Bruce with an almost solemn expression.
"Here you go, a near-original replica of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor!" Zelretch exclaims, pulling a bladed weapon from his pocket.
The Sword of Gryffindor was made of pure silver, and its hilt was set with egg-sized rubies, the precious stone that symbolized Gryffindor House at Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor's full name was engraved just below the hilt.
"A goblin-forged blade." Zelretch announced, peeling back the worn leather to reveal gleaming silver.
"But don't let its beauty fool you: it is a perfect catalyst, capable of acting as a wand and possessing unparalleled magical greed. It requires no maintenance, for it absorbs whatever touches it to grow stronger." Zelretch said, running a finger near the blade's edge.
"It is laced with basilisk venom, and in the hands of one with an affinity for fire, it can unleash flames capable of distinguishing friend from foe. But its true gift is spiritual: this sword devours fear. It heightens the resolve of its wielder, making him immune to mental influences and as firm as a rock before the abyss." Zelretch said, looking up at Bruce.
"She can absorb other weapons, other fires, integrating their powers into her own. She's a steely predator, Belmont. And she's the only thing in this world that can match your fury," Zelretch said dramatically.
Dumbledore's eyes widened like a child at a miracle.
"No one in their right mind could refuse." thought Dumbledore, convinced that the negotiation was finally concluded.
Adeline, with the clinical eye of an archaeologist accustomed to handling relics of forgotten eras, shook her head with a grimace of pure disdain.
"Zelretch, you're exaggerating. You sound like a used-car salesman trying to pass off a junk car as a collector's item," Adeline said, her voice harsh.
Bruce didn't say a word, but he barely moved a finger. With a telekinetic grip, the sword slipped from Zelretch's hands and came to him, floating horizontally in front of his face.
Bruce and Adeline studied the blade together.
"As a certified archaeologist and judge of form, here are my grades," Adeline announced, crossing her arms.
"The Medallion is an eight. The Diadem is a ten. The Sword... a three." Adeline said, raising three fingers of her left hand.
"Rubbish." Bruce declared, ceasing to use his telekinesis.
The Goblin steel hit the floor of the carriage with a dull, vulgar sound.
"You must be losing your mind, Zelretch, if you think such junk is worth anything to me. As a blacksmith, I tell you this blade would only absorb small trinkets; true power would melt it from the inside. It's unstable, primitive," Bruce said, able to forge a better weapon with his eyes closed.
Dumbledore stood transfixed, watching the replica of Hogwarts' most sacred relic lie on the carpet like a forgotten kitchen knife.
"You're trying to sell an old hatchback to a classic car collector," Adeline snapped.
"But since the first two gifts were valid, I'll take the sword so as not to hurt your feelings. I'll give it to Adara, my firstborn. She loves blades and fire, and is too young to receive a real weapon. For a ten-year-old, it will be fine," Bruce said, thinking of his Little Princess.
"You should make her a shield to make it look like a real gift and not an attempt at recycling," Adeline added, already thinking about aesthetics.
"I'll make her a princess knight dress and jewelry. My favorite granddaughter deserves only the best," Adara said, loving Adara as if she were her own daughter, perhaps even more than her own.
Bruce looked back at Zelretch.
"One month of service. Only because I love my princess and because the first two gifts were worthy of my service and time." Bruce said stoically.
"I admit I got carried away by the salesman's spirit and forgot who I was negotiating with," Zelretch admitted with a wry half-bow.
He had made the mistake of forgetting their arsenal: he knew that Bruce wielded Excalibur Morgan, obtained by blood right, and that Adeline guarded the legendary Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, recovered from the ruins of ancient Japan.
Against such blades, Gryffindor steel was mere ceremonial scrap.
"Let us continue, then. The final replica of the Founders' treasures: Helga Hufflepuff's Cup." Zelretch announced, placing artifact number four on the desk.
It was a small, heavy, two-handled golden goblet, with a finely engraved badger on the side.
"It keeps any liquid in optimal condition, but its true power is internal transmutation. It allows you to instantly convert any substance into another known to you: water into blood, wine into Felix Felicis, or even molten gold. The Cup bypasses time constraints and lunar phases to create perfect elixirs." He said
Zelretch lowered his tone, becoming serious.
"It can reproduce any liquid it has ever held, and its mere presence grants fertility to the lands you hold. But beware: once it is removed from the chalice, the maintenance magic ceases. If you spill molten gold, it will instantly return to solid form, depending on your mastery of its temperature." Wizard Marshal said, sliding the trinket toward Bruce.
Dumbledore chose to remain silent. He would question Zelretch once he was safely within the walls of Hogwarts; now, any unnecessary words only risked upsetting the situation.
"I don't dabble in potions, but it's certainly a useful tool." Adeline commented, studying the golden reflections of the goblet.
"It's not as glamorous as the Medallion, nor as priceless as the Diadem, but it will help you, brother," Adeline said, offering her opinion.
"I agree. It's a more than useful trinket," Bruce admitted, slowly rotating the cup on the desk.
"So you agree to come to Hogwarts?" Zelretch asked, hoping he had finally closed the circle.
But Adeline burst into a crystalline laugh.
"My brother isn't an easy sell, Zelretch. Especially when you've proven yourself to be so deep-pocketed and... desperate." Adeline said in a mischievous voice, she's enjoying herself.
Bruce looked up, cold.
"One month's service. That's all I'll give you for the Cup. However, I'll be generous with donations. I'll substitute for Potions and Divination, and I'll be available for private lessons with deserving students. I'll even bring rare plant seeds from my island; I'm sure your greenhouse will benefit." Bruce said, noticing the Wizard Marshal's grimace.
It was a superb offer wrapped in a minimal concession: Bruce was giving Hogwarts his knowledge, but he was stingy with his time.
"Well done, Zelretch. You're six-tenths of the way there." Adeline murmured, crossing her arms with a challenging smile.
"There's not much time left. Can you find something worth the last four months?" asks Adeline, curious if Zelretch can.
Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the Wizard Marshal's hands.
"Zelretch, tell me... do you also have the replica of the Sorting Hat? Or is there something else I don't know?" asks Dumbledore in a low voice.
The Headmaster was beginning to wonder whether the man before him was the greatest forger in history or the most skilled thief ever discovered.
"I'm out of replies, Albus. But I still have one Hogwarts-themed ace. In fact, I have four," Zelretch announced. With a flourish, he produced four heavy parchment envelopes, sealed in the four House colors.
"Clues to the treasure rooms?" Bruce speculated, his silver eye glowing with a new light.
"Hogwarts has no treasure rooms." Dumbledore cut him off, shaking his head.
"I'm the only person alive who knows this; I found out by questioning the Sorting Hat at a time (reality) when he wasn't so... reticent." Zelretch retorted with a sneer.
"The four Founders have hidden their personal laboratories within the castle." Zelretch said, sliding the envelopes onto the desk, one by one.
"Slytherin's Scriptorium, where he honed the forbidden arts. Ravenclaw's Library, a treasure trove of lost wisdom. Hufflepuff's Sanctuary, an inaccessible refuge. And finally..." Zelretch looked Bruce straight in the eye.
"The Gryffindor Forge. The secret workshop where Godric crafted weapons, armor, and golems. These envelopes contain the clues needed to find them. Now what do you have to say, Occult Detective?" Zelretch asks challengingly.
Bruce gave Zelretch a small round of applause, a gesture of genuine respect between predators.
"You won Adeline over." Bruce admitted, looking at his sister.
"She loves treasure hunts." Bruce said, knowing his other half's preferences.
Adeline, with lightning speed, had already confiscated the envelopes, tucking them safely into her cleavage.
"Gotcha! I'm an adventurous archaeologist; lost treasures are the great love of my life." Adeline exclaimed with a wink.
Bruce began to recap, weighing every word: "A medallion of rare abilities, a tiara for my projects, a 'peculiar' sword for my princess, a cup for my studies, and four clues for a long-term mission in the castle. This is receiving."
He paused, his silver eye glowing with an eerie light.
"In exchange for ten months of my time as a substitute teacher, free textbooks of my own design, three hundred volumes on monster hunting, and ten jars of rare plants. That's giving," Bruce said, holding both hands out like a scale, weighing. The receiving part isn't enough.
"In exchange for ten months of my time as a substitute teacher, free textbooks of my own design, three hundred volumes on monster hunting, and ten jars of rare plants. That... is giving," Bruce declared.
Extend both hands forward, palms open facing up, turning your arms into a living scale.
His muscles were tense, his gaze fixed on nothing as he weighed the abstract against the concrete.
Despite the treasures accumulated on the desk, the hand that represented his time showed no sign of lifting itself.
For Bruce, the receiving part, however legendary, still couldn't match the value of ten months of freedom in his life as an Occult Detective.
"Still a gram to go, Zelretch." Bruce muttered, smiling for the first time.
It was an unexpected smile, sweet and almost mischievous, which for a moment made him look like a provocative girl.
Adeline covered her mouth with a hand to keep from bursting out laughing at that smile.
"Almost?!" Dumbledore exclaimed, almost choking.
"What's the problem? It's not your money anyway," Adeline dismissed him, certain that in the end, the Headmaster would be the one to profit the most from this deal anyway.
"True," Dumbledore conceded, albeit with a hint of uneasiness.
"Give me one last treasure, Zelretch. Just one, but let it be the right one." Bruce said, holding out his left fist in a closed position.
When he opened it, in his palm was a small piece of paper with writing in a language only he and Zelretch understand: Soul Gem Phylactery.
Zelretch sighed, shaking his head.
"I'll give it to you, but you have to promise me you'll do your worst." Zelretch bent down and, with a bizarre gesture, pulled from his shoes an egg-sized gem, imprisoned in a golden cage.
"I've never let you down." Bruce replied, exchanging the note for the final, forbidden gift.
As the gem enclosed in the golden cage passed from Zelretch's hands to his, Bruce closed his eyes, finally feeling the two plates of the imaginary scale align in perfect balance.
"Now that's a perfect equivalent exchange." Bruce states, lowering his hands and ceasing to smile.
"So you're accepting the position as professor at Hogwarts?" Zelretch asked, hoping he had finally concluded the matter.
"Yes, I accept the Defense Against the Dark Arts position." Bruce replied.
"But first I want to hear from the principal what exactly the role entails. I don't sign anything without analyzing every single clause in the contract," Bruce said, being the professional he is.
XXX
Dumbledore had just finished listing holidays, awards, and academic duties. But when he said the word "College," explaining that Hogwarts was not a day school and that the teachers were required to reside in the castle, the room went cold.
"The deal is off," Bruce declares suddenly, his voice flat and final.
Adeline shook her head, crossing her arms with an expression of feigned regret.
"I wish you good luck finding someone else for the position. My brother can't accept these terms, and neither can I," Adeline said without hesitation.
"Take your treasures and go," Bruce added. The physical strain was palpable in his words: giving up the Diadem was a huge sacrifice, but he couldn't accept the job.
With a sharp gesture of telekinesis, he lifted the Medallion, the Diadem, the Sword, the Cup, the four clues and the Gem, sending them back towards Zelretch like gold and silver bullets.
"What just happened?!" Zelretch exclaimed, nearly losing his balance as he tried to catch the flying artifacts. The showman was stunned, his calculations ruined.
"Is this some kind of reverse psychology, Belmont? A trick to up the ante even further?" Zelretch asks, trying to figure out what happened.
Dumbledore, pale, watched the scene breathlessly.
"At the root of our negotiation was a profound misunderstanding," Bruce stated stoically, trying not to look at the Diadem floating in the distance.
"Being a teacher and being able to go home at night is acceptable. Being away from my loved ones for ten months is unacceptable," Bruce said, keeping his gaze on the seductive treasures.
Adeline's expression changed radically, the playfulness gone.
"I took a gap year to be with my brother, not to watch him disappear to full-time boarding school," Adeline said, her voice rising, sounding ready to claw someone's eyes out.
Zelretch was genuinely confused.
"What's the reason for this change? You usually have no problem leaving Boston for months, Belmont." Zelretch asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You're about to find out." Adeline replied, as Bruce opened a desk drawer.
He took out a photograph and placed it on the table, right where the treasures Zelretch had offered had previously shone.
"I present to you the latest addition to my family: my ninth daughter, Chiyome Yukikaze B. Kazama," Bruce said, his voice filled with pride and paternal love.
The photo showed a newborn baby girl, just a few months old, with very pale skin, blue eyes, and brown hair, held in the arms of a woman with the same features as the child.
A clear mother and daughter pair, the mother's pride and happiness are evident.
Zelretch broke into a surprised smile.
"You finally had a baby girl with Akio! The Trinity Seven... you really conquered them all, huh? Congratulations, Bruce," Zelretch said, sounding like a grandfather receiving wonderful news.
"Ninth daughter? They outnumber the Weasleys." thought Dumbledore, his eyes widening.
"If Chiyome were older, I would have accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts post without hesitation." Bruce concluded, his gaze fixed on the little girl's photo.
"Chiyome isn't even three months old," Bruce declared, and for the first time his voice sounded not like ice, but like an ordinary man.
Bruce didn't even glance at the accumulated treasures, letting the light of the gold die in the shadow of his coat.
His eye is fixed on the photo, one of the nine pure reasons to keep going despite all the difficulties he faces in his crazy life.
"My adoptive mother taught me to steal everything except one thing: blood." The Occult Detective said, his voice low and firm as a sentence.
"Whether it's the one in your veins or the one you choose to protect, family is the one rule I don't break. Better to die than betray or abandon them." Bruce said, running his thumb along the edge of the photo, an almost sacred gesture.
"And my Stepsister, Luz, left me another commandment: We weirdos have to stick together. Everything you've offered me, Zelretch, I desire, but it's not worth a single instant of his first steps or his first words. I won't go away," the Occult Detective said firmly.
Bruce is a complicated man, full of personality flaws and unspeakable secrets, a Planeswalker and a Warlock who has seen it all and done it all.
But Bruce has his own code and values, many of them questionable or morally gray, but there are some purely good rules.
Adeline had to swallow hard to keep from bursting into tears. She looked at him, realizing how different they had become since that distant day when their paths had parted.
She ended up in the bright lights of Los Angeles living a nearly normal life between the corridors of the Natural History Museum and her mother's crazy theories about UFOs.
He, cast into the darkness of Gravesfield, forged by a con witch in a world where the paranormal was not a theory, but a daily threat.
"When you talk about family values, it moves me," Adeline said, her voice cracking slightly.
"My life is definitely less crazy than yours and easier in many ways, but... I fully support you," Adeline said, faking a wistful smile.
The Golden Diva thinks for a moment of her adoptive mother: a black woman who spent her days among the exhibits of the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History and her nights scanning the sky, obsessed with UFOs.
His values were perhaps less "epic" than Bruce's, more tied to the stars than to blood, but the substance did not change.
"We think alike, Bruce. It doesn't matter where we come from or how strange our history. Some things just don't go away," Adeline said, on the same wavelength as her brother.
Zelretch remained silent, regarding the photograph with unexpected respect. Even he, a traveler between dimensions, understood that this was a fundamental force that could not be bought.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, was reconsidering everything. He knew he couldn't ask a father to abandon a newborn baby, but he couldn't give up Belmont either.
"Belmont." The Headmaster muttered, his mind already weaving a desperate solution.
"Hogwarts has many rooms... and ancient magic that bridges distances. Perhaps we don't have to choose between your family and the chair." Dumbledore interjected, the honeyed tone of someone trying to mend a rift with diplomacy.
But the air in the room had already changed.
Bruce's good eye betrayed a violent conflict: the magician's ambition, the detective's curiosity, and the visceral love for his daughter clashed like electric currents.
Zelretch watched him, his features hardened with cold calculation.
'I have a short opening, I have to get the heavy stuff out, or all this will have been for nothing,' thinks the Wizard Marshal.
"If the Darkhold didn't drive you mad, then you can handle this." Zelretch hissed, digging his hands into his pockets as if he were about to draw a death sentence.
With a dull thud that made the wood of the desk vibrate, he placed upon it an ancient tome, its skin still seeming to pulsate with a malignant life.
"I present to you the first volume of the Nine Books of Nagash." Zelretch declared, knowing that Bruce can't resist this kind of merchandise.
The silence that followed was absolute. Bruce, the Occult Detective, remained motionless. Then, with the slowness of one who knows he's touching poison, he reached out.
He lifted it. The weight of millennia of necromancy and blasphemy seemed to weigh on his shoulders as he read the first page.
At that moment, Bruce's gray eye did not turn silver as usual.
It turned a deep, dark blood red, which began to flash with bursts of unnatural neon purple.
"It must be a very valuable commodity," Adeline commented with an almost unnatural calm, observing the signs of excitement emanating from her brother like electric shocks.
She knew him well. She knew that Bruce wasn't just the head of the Morgan family; he was the one who carried Morgan Le Fay's Mantle of Power, a crown of thorns made of dark curses and blessings.
In his youth he was driven by an ambition that bordered on madness, he had immersed himself in the black mud that had spilled out of Pandora's Box, that mud that contained All the Evils of the World.
It was an ocean of curses that should have melted his soul. Instead, Bruce had resurfaced.
Miraculously unchanged in spirit, but rewritten in flesh: a vessel perfectly attuned to the darkness, able to attune to every esoteric horror without ever becoming its slave.
Bruce closed his eyes and, with a gesture of disturbing tenderness, closed the tome and hugged it to his chest, as if he were holding the son he had never had.
He took a deep breath, holding the essence of that power in his lungs. On his shoulder, the raven croaked a secret directly in his ear.
Slowly, the telekinetic tension in the room vanished: all the objects that had been floating in mid-air returned to their resting place on the desk.
"I accept the assignment," Bruce said, his voice firm and professional again. He opened his eyes, which were once again a calm, leaden gray.
"But we'll have to make some changes." Bruce said, putting the ancient book down without any problem.
Adeline stared at him in silence, reading between the lines of this return to normality.
"My brother was born distorted, more in tune with the Fairies, Demons, and Gods than with men. His brain works differently. Even I'm outside the box, but he... his distortion has made him a living paradox: he's the only man immune to every esoteric poison precisely because he's already part of that darkness." Adeline thinks.
The Golden Diva felt a pang of sadness for him, for that fate that had made him a magnet for the strange and the dark, but she couldn't help but feel a selfish relief: she was grateful that she hadn't been the one to inherit Morgan Le Fay's Mantle.
"Dumbledore, you must triple your pay." Bruce stated, his tone flat and cold, brooking no argument.
It wasn't a request, it was the price of having a Warlock of his caliber within the walls of a school.
Then he turned to his sister.
"You, Adeline, are coming with me. You'll be my Defense Against the Dark Arts co-teacher. We'll also take Mash as our assistant," Bruce declares, having already made up his mind.
Adeline didn't hesitate for a moment. A knowing smile lit up her face.
"I'm in. But we'll have to dress Mash in a nice uniform. If we're going to be at Hogwarts, let's do it in style." Adeline said, with a wicked smile.
Bruce nodded slightly, before returning his leaden eye to the Headmaster.
"I want the right to keep a couple of campers on school property and visitation rights, every weekend, for my extended family. I won't leave anyone behind." Bruce lays out his terms.
Dumbledore laced his fingers together, pondering his options and realizing they don't exist.
"It won't be a problem, as long as you can fulfill your duties as a teacher and ensure the safety of the students." Dumbledore said, willing to make this compromise.
"One last thing, Dumbledore," Bruce added, and for the first time the warrior's spark flashed in the room.
"I want a duel against you. At the end of the year. I want to test the strength of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. At my old wizarding high school, Headmistress Konoe Ayatsuki Mercury, aka Nine the Phantom, was an opponent who made my blood boil." Bruce said, his gray eyes seeming to reflect memories of flames and impossible spells.
"I want to see if you can do the same," Bruce said, unable to hide his desire for a good fight.
The old wizard smiled with a courtesy that did not entirely hide the weight of his wand.
"An unusual request for a job interview, if that's what it takes to get your talents at Hogwarts... I accept. I just hope I don't disappoint you," said Dumbledore, unsure of what to expect at the end of the year.
The Magician Marshal, in a corner, let out an amused grin, already anticipating the end-of-year show.
"Zelretch, you will give Adeline special pay." Bruce added, shifting his icy gaze to the Marshal of Traditions.
"A way to track down the four swords of the Sect, the ones that were hidden by Tongtian Jiaozhu." Bruce said, knowing full well what secrets Zelretch held.
The old wizard smiled, an expression somewhere between amusement and admiration for the Occult Detective's audacity.
"Very well. Here's a route to find them." Zelretch replied. With a fluid gesture, he conjured up four ancient silk scrolls, inscribed with ideograms that seemed to burn with their own light.
"The Zhuxian Jian, the Immortal Slayer Sword; the Luxian Jian, the Slayer of Sage; the Juxian Jian, the Deity Trap; and the Juexian Jian, the Power Slayer." Zelretch says, not going into detail.
He placed them on the desk next to Nagash's book, but he wasn't finished yet.
"I almost forgot." Zelretch added, pulling out one last scroll that emanated an aura of utter destruction.
"This is the ritual to invoke the Zhuxian Sword Formation: the Four Swords of Heaven Formation for Absolute Annihilation. But remember, Adeline: it is useless if you do not possess all four." Zelretch explains.
Adeline stared at the parchments with wide eyes, her heart pounding in her chest.
That gift exceeded all his expectations.
"Brother, I love you!" she exclaimed, forgetting all composure and throwing herself into Bruce's arms with overwhelming joy.
"Finally, guarantee everything necessary for my family's stay in London for the full ten months." Bruce added, his voice steady as he thought of every single member of his circle.
Zelretch raised an eyebrow, doing a quick mental calculation.
"This is going to cost me a fortune," Zelretch comments, sorry for the consequences his finances will face.
"You're a deep-pocketed old man, Zelretch. All or nothing: those are my terms." Bruce replied, planting his ultimatum like a dagger on the desk.
The Wizard Marshal was silent for the blink of an eye, then burst into a laugh that was vibrant with energy.
"It's hard to turn down such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Bringing just you would have been a victory, bringing both twins would have been a lottery win... But bringing the entire Agency and the Black Cabal..." Zelretch flashed a wolfish grin.
"It's like going out to find a mercenary and coming back with an entire army. I accept," Zelretch said, feeling fortunate.
Zelretch turned to his old friend, whose expression wavered between gratitude and concern for the stability of Hogwarts' foundations.
"I'm going to take Dumbledore back to Hogwarts." Zelretch announced, grabbing the Headmaster's hand.
Then, looking at Bruce: "I'll come back for you in the next few days. I'll bring you the contract to sign and the rest of the paperwork."
He took a step back, already enveloped in the first sparks of his multidimensional power.
"I almost forgot: I'm not giving you all the goods at once. We'll talk when I get back about how to distribute them throughout the school year. We don't want you to lose motivation," Zelretch said with a sly grin.
With a flash of rainbow light that shook the carriage, the two old wizards vanished, along with all the gifts, except the Locket of Salazar Slytherin, which remained as a sort of down payment or reminder not to go off to do other work.
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Bruce could still feel Adeline's warmth hugging him.
"Adeline, stop hugging me." Bruce murmured with a rough sweetness.
"We need to have a family meeting. We have a lot to discuss," Bruce said, donning the first of many treasures he'll receive this year.
Continues ...
XXX
Author's Note:
Ladies, Gentlemen, and anyone else reading this story, with this long chapter split into two, I have finished Episode 1: A teacher for the DADA class.
Yes, I decided to finish the last segment quickly, otherwise I risked dividing this material into three parts.
Now I can finally work on writing a new chapter for [Kaleidoscope Adventure (YG): An invincible shield of the storm.]
After that, as I promised someone, I will make a new chapter of [Rogue/Bahamut Effect.]
After that, I will make a necessary update to [Fate Zero Owl: Lumity's path.]