"A blood curse?" Madame Olympe Maxime's voice rose sharply, several times louder than before. She frowned, murmuring to herself, "Oh, that poor girl… This isn't some kind of joke, is it?"
Judging by her reaction, she clearly knew of the existence of dark magic like a blood curse. That realization instantly rekindled hope in Jon's heart.
"Headmistress Maxime, do you have any solution?" Jon asked eagerly.
"Perhaps we should continue discussing your leave of absence first, Mr. Patrick…" Madame Maxime forced a strained smile and deliberately changed the subject. "You mentioned applying for a leave. How long were you planning for it to last?"
As she spoke, she rubbed her forehead with her massive palm.
Jon couldn't help but sigh. The faint hope that had just flared up was extinguished once again.
"I don't know…" he said softly. "I also hope to return to school as soon as possible… but at the same time, I hope she can live a little longer…"
With his first goal clearly unattainable, Jon immediately shifted his focus to the second. For him, the longer the leave lasted, the better—hence his deliberately vague wording.
The ostensibly straightforward half-giant Headmistress failed to notice his subtle maneuvering. She nodded lightly.
"Very well. I'll write the duration of your leave as 'indefinite.'"
As she spoke, she clapped her hands. A blank sheet of parchment flew onto the desk in front of her.
Holding a magnifying glass in one hand, Madame Maxime somehow produced an enormous goose-feather quill with the other and began carefully writing on the parchment.
To be honest, the sight of her writing was a little comical.
Jon, of course, didn't laugh. He watched solemnly until she finished drafting the "leave of absence application."
Despite her rough appearance, the French script Madame Maxime wrote was delicate and elegant, easy on the eyes.
With the leave document in hand, Jon's trip to Beauxbatons had essentially achieved its goal.
He bowed deeply and respectfully.
"Thank you for your generosity and understanding, Madame Maxime."
"I hope you return soon to continue your studies, Mr. Patrick," Madame Maxime replied calmly, carefully placing the magnifying glass back into a drawer.
"Then I'll take my leave."
Jon turned around, lowered his gaze to the floor, raised his hand, and murmured softly,
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Using the Levitation Charm, he lightly hopped down from the raised platform over a meter high.
Just as he was about to pass through the bronze doors, return to the corridor, and leave the Headmistress's office—
"Wait a moment, Mr. Patrick…"
Madame Maxime's voice rang out from behind him once more.
"Actually… there is a way."
...
"A way?" Jon froze, momentarily confused—then realization hit him.
Madame Maxime's expression was conflicted, as though she were hesitating over whether she should say any more.
Suppressing the surge of excitement in his chest, Jon cautiously asked, "Headmistress Maxime… is it a method related to blood curses? Could you explain it in more detail?"
She didn't answer right away. The hesitation on her face remained.
"If it truly works, an innocent life could be saved," Jon said quietly, forcing himself to stay calm.
For a brief moment, he had even considered using Veritaserum, Legilimency, or a Memory Charm on her.
But remembering her earlier kindness, her unfathomable strength as Beauxbatons' Headmistress, and the fact that they were standing on the top floor of her own castle, Jon's rational mind forced him to abandon that reckless thought.
"You spent a year at Hogwarts?" Madame Maxime asked. The hesitation on her face gradually faded.
"Yes," Jon replied, his voice trembling slightly.
"Then I assume you know Rubeus Hagrid—the Keeper of the Keys and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures?" she asked coolly.
"Yes… I know him," Jon nodded quickly.
"Then go ask him," Madame Maxime said, lowering her head.
"Ask Professor Hagrid… about blood curses?" Jon echoed in disbelief.
It wasn't that he looked down on Hagrid. Given what he knew, Jon seriously doubted whether Hagrid even understood what a blood curse truly was.
"No, of course not!" Madame Maxime shook her head firmly. "Don't mention blood curses to him—he likely wouldn't understand. Ask him instead… ask him about the giantess Fridwulfa… and her…"
Her voice grew quieter and quieter. Jon had to step closer just to barely catch her words.
...
Watching the boy leave with a grave expression, Madame Olympe Maxime finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.
She was willing to offer him a bit of help—but not at the cost of her own interests. No matter what, she could never publicly acknowledge her origins or her bloodline. That was her greatest weakness, and it would be a fatal blow.
She was merely a witch with wide hips. Nothing more.
Hopefully Hagrid could provide him with some assistance.
Lost in thought, Madame Maxime lowered her head and bowed respectfully toward the portrait resting on her desk.
The portrait depicted a strange-looking old man—pale, dry hair, a skeletal frame, and a gaunt appearance.
He was the benefactor of Beauxbatons, the greatest alchemist in the wizarding world, the master of the Philosopher's Stone. After his death two years ago, one of his portraits had been permanently placed on this desk.
"Lord Flamel… I'm sorry, I…" Madame Maxime murmured with a trace of guilt.
The old man in the portrait smiled and nodded.
"That's enough, Olympe. You've done very well."
...
The enormous rooster statue stepped aside, its expression as arrogant as ever.
Jon exited the Headmistress's office, his face heavy with thought as his mind raced.
Distracted, he nearly collided with the oil painting opposite the office.
"Sorry! Sorry!" he muttered, then instinctively looked up.
The girl in the painting was gone. In her place remained only a patch of burned ashes.
As Jon stood there in a daze—
A pure and sacred soul slowly rose from the ruins.
The saint's spirit smiled faintly at Jon, then turned away without a second glance, drifting upward into the sky.