"You've seen for yourself — Barnabas's attitude toward the training area is… less than friendly. If that kind of force can't be firmly controlled, then it's only a matter of time before it becomes a threat. Better to place it in safe hands than let it turn into an enemy, don't you think?"
Sean frowned slightly. His instincts told him that this explanation was only half true — Gideon always had more than one motive for anything he did.
Still, he couldn't deny it: if he did take over the training area, it wouldn't take more than three to five years before he had a circle of loyal, capable wizards around him — a force no one could afford to ignore. And Sean knew better than anyone that Voldemort would return someday. When that time came, only those who held real power would have the means to protect themselves — and the ones they cared about.
Sean exhaled. "If I take it on… then I'm responsible for all their food, clothes, living expenses, everything — is that right?"
Gideon's mouth curved into a faint smile. "Naturally. But don't worry — I'll advance you the money to cover the first year. Once your first annual dividends come in, I'll simply deduct what you owe me."
He paused, then added with that same harmless tone, "Of course, there will be interest — two points higher than Gringotts' standard rate. How does that sound?"
Sean grit his teeth, glaring at him. "You really have it all worked out, don't you… Grandfather."
Seeing Sean's expression — that mixture of forced calm and quiet resentment — Gideon felt oddly satisfied. He didn't even know why it amused him so much, but watching Sean grit his teeth in helpless fury brought him far more joy than any pure-blood pet ever could. Some games never got old.
After his talk with Gideon, Sean prepared to leave Bulstrode Manor with his parents and brother.
Elena was clearly reluctant to go — but she took comfort in knowing she could visit her son, daughter-in-law, and two grandsons at Sean's home anytime she wished. That thought helped settle her mood, at least a little.
On the other hand, Margaret and Elena had been inseparable these past three days. They'd talked endlessly about everything, especially parenting — and many of Elena's suggestions had turned out to be surprisingly practical. Now that they were about to part ways, Elena managed to keep her composure, but Margaret looked back at the manor gates again and again, clearly unwilling to leave.
Aldridge didn't get in the car with them. Before they left, Sean had already spoken with him about taking over the training area. Aldridge was more than excited — he'd thrown himself into the plan with wholehearted enthusiasm, especially when Sean mentioned relocating and expanding the area's operations. Aldridge promised he'd handle everything properly.
So for now, Aldridge wouldn't be returning with Sean's family. He'd be staying behind to work closely with the training area's people and lay out the next steps.
Of course, moving the training area outside the Bulstrode estate didn't mean cutting ties completely. Far from it. When the children there eventually graduated, they'd still have options: many would choose to stay on and serve the Bulstrode family — but under Sean's new system, they'd gain better treatment and real rewards for their loyalty. After all, they were no longer just raised by the Bulstrode family — they were raised by Sean Bulstrode himself.
Strictly speaking, of course, Sean was still part of the Bulstrode family.
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Sitting in the car, Sean quietly weighed the power he held in his hands now.
It could be divided roughly into three parts.
The first part was the so-called official route — represented by Barrett, who had taken root in the Slytherin Brotherhood. Through these hidden subordinates, Sean was gradually building up influence inside the Brotherhood and even within the Ministry of Magic itself. They moved in shadows, steadily expanding his foothold behind the scenes.
The second part was the group led by Marwood — a gathering of desperate dark wizards, all banded together under the banner of "restoring Voldemort's rule." Using Marwood and his people, Sean could quietly handle all manner of illegal activities and blame the messes on Voldemort's remnants or other rogue wizards, while also sinking his hooks deeper into the black market's underbelly.
The third part was the newest piece — the force he'd just inherited from the Bulstrode family's training area. Although this group was still fledgling and far from strong, with a few years of careful nurturing under Aldridge's management, they'd grow into a force to be reckoned with. Sean trusted Aldridge completely to handle that growth.
But for now, all three branches of his power were still weak seedlings. They needed time, secrecy, and steady care to grow strong. So for the foreseeable future, Sean's life would remain low-key. He planned to bury himself in study, keep publishing papers, and gradually carve out a real voice for himself in the magical academic world — long before Voldemort's inevitable return.
Deep down, though, Sean couldn't shake off a suspicion about the Ministry of Magic. When Voldemort fell, the Ministry had fought tooth and nail. But after Voldemort's return in the future, would the Ministry really be so incompetent by accident? Or were there deeper reasons hidden behind that negligence?
Sean didn't believe in leaving things to chance. He knew exactly what happened to wizards who sat back and trusted the system to protect them — they ended up dead, or worse. He had a healthy fear of being underprepared. If there was one thing he couldn't tolerate, it was insufficient firepower.
When he finally returned home, it was just as he'd left it. Emerald had kept the house spotless and well-run. Kulkan was still deep in her long sleep, having been curled up for nearly a week now without waking once. Sean had a hunch: when Kulkan woke up this time, she'd have fully digested the basilisk tissue and grown stronger than ever before.
The days that followed were peaceful once again — exactly what Sean needed.
After handing over the patent for his new potion to the Bulstrode family, Sean finally found some quiet. No letters from pushy merchants, no noise — only the steady trickle of academic exchanges. Every few days, another letter from a potion master would arrive through the Golden Crucible. These letters were invaluable: Sean learned new perspectives, refined his methods, and quietly made connections with masters who, in turn, saw the value in befriending a prodigy with a promising future.
One event stood out during the holidays: a new issue of The Golden Crucible had just published a major paper by Master Damocles. His work dominated the entire front page — his photo practically covered the whole cover, with only tiny lines listing the other papers inside. But no one openly complained. Damocles's breakthrough justified every headline inch: he'd solved the age-old problem of werewolves losing control during the full moon. His new Wolfsbane Potion didn't cure lycanthropy, but it let werewolves keep their minds when they transformed — a miracle for the wizarding world's werewolf community.
When Sean got his hands on the latest issue, he wasted no time. He dove straight into Damocles's paper — determined to learn every detail behind the Wolfsbane Potion.