A quiet sense of unease had always been Yad's companion, a steady, low hum beneath the surface of his everyday life.
This deep-seated anxiety stemmed from his childhood as a Squib. He'd grown up surrounded by a world of magic, seeing its wonders up close but always separated by an invisible barrier, unable to truly touch or belong to it. That longing had left a distinct hollowness within him.
Marrying Martha, his unwavering support, and later welcoming their son, Sean, should have eased that feeling. Instead, his sense of powerlessness sharpened, twisting into a constant, nagging fear for his family. He knew firsthand how breathtaking and terrifying magic could be—its beauty, its danger, its sheer unpredictability. Without any magic of his own, the question relentlessly plagued him: how could he possibly protect them if that world turned hostile?
And so, Yad had dedicated himself to a different kind of strength. His path was not to contend with magic itself but to conquer his own limitations. Every spare moment, every bit of his resolve, was poured into rigorous training. He pushed himself with a fierce, almost quiet desperation, his body learning and mastering every fighting technique he could find. He was determined to become stronger and more capable.
All that effort, every gruelling session, every early morning, was for one purpose: to be the reliable shield his family might one day need if things went wrong.
The punch he'd just thrown was born from all of that. It carried the weight of years of unspoken frustration, fuelled by a fierce, protective love for Sean, and it landed squarely on Borell's sneering face. The impact sent his brother staggering back, the arrogance wiped from his expression as he crashed heavily to the ground.
The haze in Borell's vision finally began to recede, but the physical shock was instantly consumed by a burning wave of humiliation. It crashed through him, hot and shameful, then quickly twisted into raw rage. His jaw throbbed painfully, and the gasps of the onlookers were distant, insignificant sounds. All that mattered was getting even. His fingers, clumsy with fury, fumbled for his wand.
But Yad was fast.
Before Borell's fingers could properly grip the familiar polished wood, Yad moved. There was no wasted motion, just focused intent.
CRACK!
The sound was sharp as Yad's foot connected precisely with Borell's exposed wrist. The wand, jarred from his grasp, spun through the air, clattering uselessly onto the cobblestones several feet away.
Yad didn't pause. His follow-up punch landed hard in Borell's unprotected stomach.
"OOF—!"
All the air, all the fight, rushed out of Borell in a ragged, desperate gasp. He doubled over, collapsing onto the hard stones, curling instinctively into a pained ball. His mind, moments before alight with anger, was now a daze of shock and pain. Casting a spell? He could barely breathe, let alone summon the focus. His attempts at wandless or nonverbal magic were weak even on his best days; right now, they were impossible.
Millicent, who'd always seen his father as an immensely powerful figure of pure-blood strength, could only stare. His eyes were wide, unblinking, reflecting the unbelievable scene before him: Borell Bulstrode, his father, being decisively beaten. By a Squib. The word itself stung. The sight was so wrong, so deeply unsettling to his worldview, that for a precious, frozen second, he was simply paralyzed.
Then, his ingrained arrogance quickly reasserted itself. The shock morphed into a snarl. He recovered in an instant, his own hand darting to the wand at his hip. With a furious growl, he leveled it at Yad, the incantation for a sharp spell already forming on his lips, his voice dripping with malice,
"Thorn Entangle—!"
But the final, crucial syllable never escaped.
Sean reacted instantly. One hand shot out, clamping down firmly over Millicent's mouth, the word dying in a choked gurgle. Simultaneously, with swift coordination, his other fist struck Millicent hard in the stomach.
"Urk—!"
A choked, wet sound escaped Millicent. His eyes bulged. The spell forgotten, the fight gone, he doubled over with a strangled groan, breath stolen, and crumpled to the ground beside his equally incapacitated, groaning father. Two Bulstrodes, laid low.
With swift efficiency, Sean snatched Millicent's fallen wand from the cobblestones – no way was he leaving that lying around. Then, he grabbed his father's arm, his voice low and urgent.
"Dad. Let's go."
Together, they retreated, moving with determined purpose, putting a safe, ever-widening distance between themselves and the two groaning, humiliated figures sprawled on the Diagon Alley cobblestones. The whispers of the crowd followed them, but Sean didn't look back.
Borell, his face already beginning to throb and swell from the bruises, watched them back away through a haze of pain and intense anger. He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, snatched up his fallen wand, and raised it, ready to unleash a spell at Yad. Just as he was about to utter an incantation, two imposing figures in Ministry robes suddenly appeared beside him and Millicent. Their authoritative presence quickly quieted the onlookers and blocked his line of sight. Aurors.
"Mr. Bulstrode," one of the Aurors stated, his voice cool and devoid of deference, "casting spells on non-magical individuals in a public place like Diagon Alley is a serious offense, punishable by a sentence in Azkaban. That is Ministry law." The Auror then added, his eyes flicking towards where Yad had been, his tone dry, "Furthermore, I highly doubt your father would be pleased to learn you were using magic on a Squib—family or not—in such a public manner. Would he?"
The Auror's carefully chosen words cut through Borell's rage. The mention of Azkaban was chilling enough, but the thought of his father's displeasure… He knew that even if the Bulstrode name could somehow keep him out of the wizarding prison, the punishment awaiting him at home would be severe. His father detested public scandal.
His anger struggled against a cold, pragmatic fear. Realizing the futility of his position, Borell had to swallow his frustration. No matter how much he wanted to lash out at Yad and Sean, he slowly, visibly, lowered his wand and slid it back into his robes. Without another word, he helped a still-groaning Millicent to his feet. The younger Bulstrode looked as though he wanted to protest, but a sharp glare from his father silenced him. Together, they turned and made a hasty, undignified retreat from the area near Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, aware of the Aurors' watchful eyes and the crowd's hushed whispers.
Sean watched as Borell and Millicent disappear into the crowd. He felt pretty good about that. He knew this wasn't totally over, though. Borell was really proud, and that kind of hurt doesn't just go away. But for now, Sean figured Borell would keep his distance. Borell was scared of his own dad and Azkaban, especially with Sean going to Hogwarts. If Borell wanted revenge, he'd have to wait until Sean finished school. And by then, Sean was pretty sure he'd be strong enough to handle him.
After the Bulstrodes were gone, the two Aurors came over to Yad's family. "Just a reminder to follow the magical laws while you're in Diagon Alley," the main Auror said. His voice was polite, but you could tell he meant it. "We won't bother you anymore." He gave a quick nod, and then they both turned and walked back into the crowd.
As they were walking away, Sean overheard the younger Auror talking to his partner.
"Hey Corey," the younger one said, sounding a bit confused, "why weren't we, you know, a bit nicer to the Bulstrode kid just now? Isn't it bad to tick him off like that?"
Corey just shook his head. "Rook, you've got a lot to learn. That whole thing? That was Bulstrode family drama. If you want to get on someone's good side, you go for the Patriarch of the family, not the kid who thinks he's next in line. Right now, the old man's still calling all the shots."
The younger Auror's eyes widened a bit, like he was starting to get it. He nodded, finally understanding what his partner had handled so smoothly.
Sean watched them go. He was pretty impressed. They were calm, knew what they were doing, and didn't mess around. Way better than the cops in movies from his old life. He actually respected these guys.
Sean went back to his seat and took a bite of his ice cream, which was mostly melted by now. Then, he mentally pulled up his panel and looked at the message he'd gotten during the fight.
[Duel Won!]
[Conditions Met: Victory Against Magical Opponent.]
[System Commencing Random Ability Extraction from Defeated Target: Millicent Bulstrode.]
[Extracting...]
Sean felt a tiny, quick buzz of energy as the system did its thing.
[Extraction Complete!]
[New Ability Acquired: Thorn Curse]
Sean's eyebrows went up. The Thorn Curse – that's what Millicent had tried to hit him with. This was a big deal. Before, his panel just seemed to make him better at stuff he already knew from his old life. Now, it looked like it could actually give him new magic spells from people he beat in these 'duels.' That changed things, a lot.
He was curious, so he checked out his character panel:
Name: Sean Bulstrode
Profession: Wizard Apprentice
Affiliation: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Skills: Lumos (Basic), Thorn Curse (Basic)
Equipment: Ebony Phoenix Wand (Bonded)
He saw Lumos (Basic). He'd tried so hard to do that spell before but only got a weak flicker. But he knew how it was supposed to work from Gavin's notes. Now, with his wand, the panel said he actually knew the spell, even if it was just the basics. Cool. The same for Thorn Curse – he had the basic version of it.
Sean closed the panel and let out a long breath. He felt himself relax a bit. This system was a really big help. Guys like Borell, with all their family power and looking down on everyone, seemed pretty scary right now. But because the panel could help him learn new things, he felt more confident. He felt more ready for Hogwarts, for the whole wizarding world, and for keeping himself and his parents safe, no matter what happened.
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