Christian sat quietly as Ron and Hermione chatted happily with the newly awakened Harry. Once again, he had this absurd feeling that everything was destined to be, that everything happening was nothing but a scripted play.
"Christian!"
"Huh? Did you say something?"
"I asked whether you know why Voldemort wanted to kill me in the first place," Harry asked.
"If Dumbledore doesn't want to tell you now, why do you expect me to say something?" Christian shrugged. Although he despised Dumbledore's plan to raise Harry like a pig to be slaughtered, this is currently the only way to remove that piece of soul from him.
"Fair," Harry nodded.
"No, it's not fair. Why can't you just tell us?" Ron asked.
"Have you thought that maybe by revealing the truth now, I'm ruining Dumbledore's plan and putting Harry's life at risk?"
Ron was temporarily speechless. "Well, will it?"
"You have no idea what it feels like to be burdened by knowledge that you shouldn't have. So, stop acting like you do." Christian stood up. "Harry, I'm glad you're alright. We'll talk at tonight's feast." He walked out, heading directly to the library.
"Why did you have to antagonize him?" Hermione hit Ron slightly with her shoulder.
"I didn't."
"Christian is always willing to help, and if he doesn't, it's because he has a good reason. But you had to go and annoy him."
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
…
Christian watched in shock as Dumbledore casually found a way to make Gryffindor the winner of the House Cup. As much as he despised Slytherin and was happy his house had won, he felt bad for them. They were happily celebrating their seventh straight win when the headmaster walked in and stripped the trophy from them.
'If I were in another house and this happened to me, I would have rioted,' Christian thought. No way would he have accepted such unfair treatment. It would be one thing if Harry and the others had received the points before the celebration, but to have it stripped at the last minute seems like a form of cruelty.
The feast started, and Christian immediately placed some diri djon djon (Black rice) on his plate. He had an agreement with the house elves in the kitchen that he would pay them a monthly allowance, and they would ensure his favorite food was always available at breakfast or dinner.
Although he had to fight and even played dirty before they would accept the money, he insisted on paying them. The wizard's world did not experience the era in British history when the wealthy and affluent stopped using seasonings in their food to distinguish themselves from the poor, or the subsequent period when this practice soon spread to the lower class, essentially ruining British cuisine. Despite the good food, Christian often missed home food, so he made a deal with the house elves.
"Hmm?" While biting a piece of griot (Haitian Fried Pork), he noticed Ron had changed places with Hermione next to him. "Do you need something?"
"I…I came to apologize."
"Oh?"
"I felt Harry wouldn't have gotten hurt if you were with us, and took it out on you. But, now that I think about it, you two probably would have been injured together. What I'm trying to say to you is: I'm sorry, mate."
"I accept your apology," Christian patted his shoulder. "You have no idea how surreal it is to see the things you've predicted come to life. The worst part is you may want to change some things, but you cannot." Christian still remembered that poor unicorn. Was it his hubris that led to its demise? Definitely. But would he have been able to save it had he tried his best? He did not know.
Recently, he realized the power of fate guiding Harry and his story, and that it cannot be fundamentally changed. Some aspects can be changed, but the overall goals will remain constant.
"I never thought of that," Ron muttered.
The end-of-year continued, and Christian enjoyed himself with his friend. Knowing how bumpy his life was destined to be, he cherished peaceful times like this. He may not have enough of these moments, or he may not live long to experience mau, so Christian decided to love every last one of them.
As Christian was eating some gelato and listening to Harry and Ron exaggerate their legendary tale against Voldemort, Hagrid barged into the hall. "Harry, Harry, she' awak."
"What are you talking about?"
"Yeh mothe' — she' awak."
Harry suddenly stood up, spilling a few things on the table. "You mean my mother is awake from her coma?"
"Yah."
Before Harry could react, Cornelius Fudge, accompanied by a few people, walked into the room. They gave Hagriid a stern glance before Minister Fudge called Harry over to walk over to the teacher's High Table, in which several people were already standing — including Snape, who was the first to react.
The group had a brief chat before they departed with Professor Dumbledore, leaving the other teacher to continue the feast. Meanwhile, Christian had a look of shock—no, of horror—on his face.
….
Eleanor sat in an elegant office at the top of a building overlooking downtown London. She was reviewing the financial report of Massive Dynamics' latest product: women's cosmetics. This venture has earned less than $2 million in profit, and all she had to do was launch a product that targets a variety of skin colors, rather than catering to a single shade.
Although the profit was small compared to Massive Dynamic's vast fortune, she paid great attention to it because it was the first pot of money she made that was not from gambling, stock manipulation, magic, or other forms of illegal activities. Eleanor understood that with the right product, such a large demographic, and the proper ambassador, she could soon raise the cosmetic department to a billion-dollar industry.
Once that is done, she will take whatever steps are necessary to become the industry's leader and set the standards. Eleanor signed the increased budget to hire a popular actress as the brand's ambassador. She took the last document in the to-do pile.
Dynamic Law had just landed their first class action lawsuit against a company that was secretly dumping chemicals in a small town on the southwest edge of Durham. The entire settlement was worth 100 million euros.
'Maybe I can secretly put some Veritaserum into a key witness from the defendant's side,' Eleanor said. She wanted this case to be a sweeping victory, so she paid close attention to it. 'Let's first see how things are going before deciding whether to use magic.'
Eleanor put the document away before pushing a button on her phone. Her secretary, a middle-aged woman from Ghana with straightened hair, a long skirt, and glasses, walked into the room. She took the signed documents in front of Eleanor before handing two more.
"What are those?"
"The first one is the final deal for the western rights of Power Rangers, and the second one is the investment for the opening of Chipotle."
Eleanor took the documents, reviewed them slowly, and then signed on the dotted lines. "What else?"
"Three things," Secretary Kwame said. "First, your dual American citizenship has been accepted. Those papers will arrive within two days."
"Why did it take so long?"
"I'm not really privy to how our American branch operates."
Eleanor understood this was her way of saying, 'This is not part of my job.' "Alright. What's next?"
"Sir Leon is waiting for you outside, and we have a meeting with Alcosao to discuss the aluminum trade deals."
"Send Leon in and prepare the car."
Leon was a white man dressed in a blue suit, but his face screamed exhaustion. "How is it?" Eleanor asked.
"They've agreed to sell us their B-List heroes like Iron Man, Thor, and so on. But they refused to sell us the rights to heroes like Hulk, the X-Men, and Spider-Man."
Eleanor's brow furrowed. She remembered Marvel's situation would not be desperate enough until 2 years later, when they were forced to sell the X-Men to Fox, and Spider-Man would not leave their hands until 1999.
"Have you tried buying their company? They are in desperate need of cash, right?"
"I suggested, but they were adamant about only selling the rights," Leon explained.
"They should be getting desperate. Your primary focus should still be the movie rights, but also put a bit more focus on changing their minds," Eleanor suggested. Marvel is already an established brand — especially in the comics industry. It would make her entry and eventual domination of the industry even better if she could buy their company.
"Is this really wise?"
"Don't worry about it."
"But I've heard from the Financial Department that we are running out of liquidated assets," Leon warned. While Massive Dynamic was worth $ 1.8 billion, most of that money was in the form of assets, such as stocks, bonds, or real estate.
"Don't worry about it," Eleanor said. Leon opened his mouth to say something, but he only sighed. He nodded politely before walking out of the room.
Eleanor relaxed her body in the chair. She was aware of what people said about her. They called her the Lucky Queen because a significant portion of her wealth came from gambling or unexplained stock market fluctuations. She also had another name: The Spender.
They called her that because she spent money as if it were water, buying companies across multiple fields — many of which had nothing to do with each other. Many people believe it was only a matter of time before she had to call for bankruptcy. However, Eleanor knew better.
Massive Dynamic's outline of operation was created while she was under the influence of Felix Felicis. So, she knew all the companies she bought would not only make a profit, but they would also set the foundation for her future global dominance. Now, she's waiting for an opportunity for their effects to activate.
Secretary Kwame came to remind her that the car was ready, so Eleanor took her private elevator to the first floor. "How is the acquisition of Pixar going?"
"The negotiations are slow," Kwame responded.
"What was our latest offer?"
"15 million dollars."
"In other words, three times the original value. How greedy is Steve Jobs?" Eleanor complained.
"Do you want to halt the negotiation?"
"No, tell them to offer an additional 2 million. If he still refuses to sell, I'll take things into my own hands."
Kwame felt a chill down her spine, but her demeanor remained calm and composed. "I'll pass on your words."
The elevator opened, and as soon as Eleanor stepped out, a muscular but handsome man with a bald head, glistening dark skin, and wearing a suit, stood tall, evidently waiting for her arrival.
"Bruce," Eleanor nodded.
"Ma'am," Bruce saluted, his demeanor exuding high discipline and a former military background. Bruce calmly led Eleanor to her car with more than five men following him. Bruce served as the driver for the primary vehicle, while the other security details followed in front and behind, accompanied by an additional three new vehicles.
Under normal circumstances, Eleanor would not allow for such a fanfare, but she had suffered two more assassination attempts after the one from the Russian Oligarchs. She survived the first one thanks to Christian's enchanted ring and the two house elves, but the second effort was all due to Bruce's careful nature.
The small brigade soon arrived at their destination. Eleanor attended the meeting, accompanied by Bruce and Secretary Kwame, who arrived in one of the other cars. Eleanor hoped to get a steady source of aluminum from this company, but less than five minutes into the meeting, she used a secret signal.
Secretary Kwame excused herself to receive a call, and when she returned, she whispered something into Eleanor's ear.
"Gentlemen, there is an emergency that I must attend."
Eleanor politely shook everybody's hand before walking out of the room.
"I'm guessing I don't need to reschedule a meeting?" Secretary Kwame asked.
"You would guess correctly," Eleanor nodded. The moment she walked in that room, the Sneakoscope Enchantment in her contacts lit up brighter than Christmas, indicating these people did not want to do business. In fact, they were trying to harm her in some capacity.
"Noted," Secretary Kwame said. This was not the first time this has happened, and she has learned to accept it. The previous times have shown she had made the correct choice. Plus, it's not her job to dictate what her boss wishes to do.
Eleanor entered the black vehicle, and Bruce drove her back to the office. However, midway through the journey, Eleanor received a phone call. Her brow furrowed as she listened to the person on the other side. "I understand. I'm on my way now."
"Bruce, take me home," Eleanor ordered before calling Kwame and asking her to cancel everything she had planned for the evening. Bruce did not ask any questions. Instead, he took his enormous phone, equipped with military-grade encryption, and relayed orders to change the route. Then, all four vehicles methodically changed their destination, heading to Eleanor's public's house.
As soon as she arrived and separated from Bruce — who did not like not being able to provide a security detail inside — Eleanor called, "Tinkle."
A house elf dressed in a tailored suit apparated before her. "Yes, Madam."
"Take me home."
"As you wish."
—---
[Volume 2 END]