Chapter 26: A Visit to Orvis Manor
The next morning, Solim awoke with a singular focus: preparation. That afternoon, he would accompany Elrond to the Orvis family to meet a young Squib. If he could enable this Squib to wield magic, then upon their return, he and his grandfather would finally address Sylna's situation.
The existence of a Squib in a pure-blood family was a closely guarded secret, a source of profound shame in a culture that prized magical pedigree. To have found three Squibs with potential was a success in itself. For the sake of thoroughness, they could wait for word to spread after a success at the Orvis estate, potentially drawing out one or two more subjects. But Sylna could not afford to wait. She was ten years old. If she did not manifest magic before her eleventh birthday, her future became dangerously uncertain.
No magical school in the world accepted students after the age of eleven. They would take transfer students from other institutions, but never a new, older student. Wizards who awakened their magic after that age were deemed to have lost their potential. Solim's mind turned to the wretches of Knockturn Alley. Many were wizards who had never received a formal education, their magic blooming too late. Without the systematic training of a school, their knowledge was patchwork and incomplete. They scrounged for resources, often mired in the dirty work of the wizarding underworld, their talents wasted on simple potions and herbology. Some didn't even own wands, as Ollivanders and other reputable makers only served those registered with the Ministry. They were ghosts in the machine, confined to the dark corners of their own world.
Solim refused to let that be Sylna's fate. Though a trueborn Selwyn, to their family a Squib was more contemptible than a Muggle. Most pure-blood families treated their Squibs with cold indifference, while the more extreme saw their elimination as a necessary measure to preserve family honour.
Sylna's situation demanded a resolution: she would either become a witch, or she would be sent away to live as a Muggle, far from the world she knew. Even if the potion failed, Solim believed his grandfather would ensure her safety. While Professor Snape's potion series had proven effective on Argus Filch, its suitability for a young girl like Sylna, and indeed its very efficacy for her, remained a terrifying unknown.
Beyond Sylna's plight, a success today with the Orvis family would be immensely beneficial for Solim. Word would spread among the ancient families, and soon they would be seeking him out to solve their own embarrassing "problems." The favours and connections he would garner would be a formidable shield; any who wished him harm would have to think twice.
The Orvis family was a respected name, renowned for their vast herbal plantations. Any serious Potions Master was familiar with their work, as they were the largest producers of many rare and precious ingredients. A successful outcome today would be the perfect beginning for Solim's rise.
After a hasty lunch, Elrond and Solim set off.
It was worth noting that a family like the Selwyns would never use the Floo Network. Firstly, the network was managed by the Ministry of Magic. Connecting to it would mean exposing the location of Selwyn Castle to the government—an unacceptable proposition. Secondly, the Floo System's security was laughable. A skilled witch or wizard could override the controls and enter a home at will, a gaping vulnerability no ancient family would tolerate.
Their destination was the Cornish peninsula, the southernmost tip of Britain. North of Plymouth, deep within Dartmoor National Park, lay the Orvis family estate and their three largest plantations. This hiker's paradise was magically secluded from prying Muggle eyes. The Orvis family were the undisputed masters of herbology in the region, shipping vast quantities of mature ingredients across Europe from their ancestral home.
Walking through the magnificent landscape of Dartmoor, Solim felt his irritable mood begin to lift. He wondered when he might have a home of his own. If he chose not to reside at Selwyn Castle, his only option would be a room at the Leaky Cauldron. The thought was depressing. He had some savings, but they were for acquiring potion ingredients. Building a house was a fantasy. It was like a young Muggle scraping together money for a car, while the prospect of a house remained a distant dream.
Furthermore, one couldn't simply build a home anywhere. The Ministry of Magic had to approve the location, assessing Muggle proximity, secrecy risks, the planned size, and the materials to be used. The process involved reams of paperwork and, ultimately, a hefty payment of Galleons to the Ministry for the land rights. It didn't matter if the land was remote and uninhabited; the Ministry demanded its due.
"We're here," Elrond announced, gesturing ahead.
Solim stared at a massive, solid rock. "We walk through?"
In answer, Elrond strode directly into the rock and vanished. Solim shrugged and followed suit.
"It's just like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he muttered.
The grounds of Orvis Manor were immaculate, the work of House-Elves skilled in topiary. To the left of the grand entrance, Solim spotted a Gnarled Frond tree—a plant whose wood produced wands exceptionally adept at soul magic, but utterly useless for charms like the Patronus. Scuol had taught him to identify it, along with the warning never to burn it; the smoke was instantly lethal.
Is it really appropriate to plant such a dangerous thing by the front door? he wondered.
"Confused, are you?" Elrond said, reading his expression. "Don't overthink it. You'll be more surprised inside."
Just then, an old wizard in crimson robes emerged from the doorway.
"You're late, you old relic! Stop dawdling and get inside!" The voice was unmistakable even from a distance: Gilves, the Orvis patriarch and Elrond's frequent verbal sparring partner.
Elrond snorted and led Solim towards the entrance. "Remember," he said in a low voice, "no matter who asks about the potion, you direct them to me. Do not mention your school professor. Gilves knows the truth, but the others don't. Keep it that way."
It took Solim a moment to grasp his meaning.
"Idiot!" Elrond hissed. "What use are favours to you if everyone knows the potion is Snape's?"
The realization hit him. If the potion worked, the families of these Squibs would owe a great debt. If that debt was owed to Snape, Solim would get nothing. It felt underhanded, but he desperately needed the connections and influence of these pure-blood families. He could always compensate Snape later with rare ingredients or a few coveted potion recipes.
But when Solim stepped into the central atrium and saw the tree growing there, all other thoughts vanished. His eyes widened, his jaw going slack.
"Hahaha! I told you, every wizard reacts this way on their first visit," Gilves chortled, delighted by Solim's astonishment.
"Boy, compose yourself!" Elrond snapped, embarrassed by his grandson's lack of composure. "It's just a tree. Control yourself."
"Rubbish!" Gilves retorted. "Don't you dare pretend you weren't the same when you first saw it!"
It was Snakewood. Solim recognized the legendary tree immediately. The wood was incredibly precious, used in both advanced potions and alchemy, but it was most famous as a core component for spell-casting focuses: wands and staves. A wand of Snakewood had no known upper limit on the magical power it could channel. This meant a wizard could pour every ounce of their strength into a single Stunning Spell. Most wands had a built-in regulator, limiting the power of any given charm. But with Snakewood, the only limit was the wizard's own magical reserves. With enough power, one could theoretically kill with a Stupefy.
"Listen, boy," Gilves said, a sly smile on his face. "If you can sort out little Fleg's problem, I'll see to it that you get a piece of Snakewood."
"Hey now, for the two of us, you'd only part with one?" Elrond squinted at his old friend. "And you call yourself the Head of House? Such stinginess. It speaks poorly of the Orvis family's future."
"Rubbish!" Gilves shot back, his temper flaring at the insult. "You know its value as well as I! If he succeeds, you'll each have one. But if this is all a waste of my time..." He let the threat hang in the air with a cold sneer.
"Enough," Elrond said, beckoning to Solim, who was still staring raptly at the tree. "Come along, boy. Attend to the matter at hand first. You can gawk later."