Chapter 27: The Orvis Heir
Elrond, Gilves, and Solim stood in a quiet room, their attention fixed on the young boy who was the subject of their endeavor: Flegg Orvis. He had just swallowed the Magic-Reaction Potion and was now flushed with fever, his breathing shallow.
Solim's role was to time the reaction. The duration would indicate the strength of the latent magic within the boy, and based on that, he would use Snape's formulae to determine the correct potion regimen.
When Gilves, who had been monitoring his grandson closely, gave a sharp nod indicating the reaction had subsided, Solim checked his chronometer. "Five minutes. No problem."
Five minutes was the reaction window. "No problem" meant the child's magical core was sufficient; he could become a wizard. It was a far cry from Filch's thirty-minute reaction, but Filch was a grown man. This boy was only ten.
When Solim mentioned he needed to brew the next potion on the spot, Gilves stood, a glint of pride in his eyes. "I may not be the most formidable duelist," he declared, "but when it comes to potions, everyone else in this room is dross."
The Orvis family's trade was potion ingredients, and they possessed an innate advantage in the craft. Many renowned Potions Masters throughout history had hailed from their line. Like Elrond, Gilves's strengths lay elsewhere; no wizard could master everything. It was all a matter of perspective from the highest echelons of their world.
While Gilves began the meticulous work of brewing, Elrond quietly explained the situation to Solim. The Orvis family's future was precarious. Gilves's son and daughter-in-law were dead, leaving only this child. The subsequent discovery that the boy was a Squib had been a devastating blow. What future was there for the Orvis family if its sole heir was magically inert? Would their vast estate and business pass to a distant, disinterested cousin? Be torn apart by rival families like sharks scenting blood? Or fall under the management of the unsympathetic Council of Elders?
Solim's arrival, therefore, was a miracle. If he could make little Flegg a wizard, the debt of gratitude the Orvis family would owe him was immeasurable. Every wizard, especially those of high standing, relied on potions. As the largest supplier of magical herbs in Britain and across Europe, the Orvis family wielded immense, quiet influence. The nature of their repayment for saving their lineage would be substantial.
As Gilves worked and Solim and Elrond conversed in low tones, the door to the room was thrown open with a violent crash.
"Uncle! I heard the man who claims he can 'save' the Orvis family is here. I thought I'd come and see for myself. You don't mind, do you?" A broad-shouldered wizard strode in, followed by an "acquaintance" of Solim's.
"Father, that's—" the younger man behind him began, but his words died in his throat as his eyes fell upon Elrond standing beside Solim.
"What's the matter, Lyman?" Solim rose to his feet, his voice cold as he regarded the newcomers. "Has your memory failed since I left Scuol? Or did my previous lessons not leave a lasting enough impression?"
The older wizard who had entered first narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting calculatingly between Solim and Elrond before he forced a laugh. "You must be Solim. I've heard of you. Having trouble with the Ritch family? I'm quite familiar with them. I could help smooth things over—"
"Either hold your tongue," Gilves interrupted, not even turning from his cauldron, his voice dangerously calm, "or get out. I will not say it again."
The broad-shouldered wizard, Deli Orvis, sneered but retreated, pulling his son, Lyman, with him.
"You'll have to excuse that display," Gilves muttered, his focus returning to his potion.
Once they were gone, Elrond provided a quiet explanation. The man was Deli Orvis, the son of Gilves's late younger brother. Raised by Gilves, Deli had long considered himself the rightful heir to the family, as a Squib could never lead a pure-blood house. Solim's arrival, promising a solution, was a direct threat to his ambitions. Had Flegg not been kept under Gilves's constant watch, an "accident" would likely have already occurred.
The younger one, Lyman, needed no introduction. The Ritch family Deli had mentioned was the same one whose heir Solim had killed through the proxy of the black glove. Lyman had been a loyal follower of the deceased Ritch heir and had tormented Solim frequently. After the heir's death, his gang had not relented, believing an illegitimate son like Solim was living on borrowed time. Their efforts were thwarted when Solim left Scuol for Hogwarts, placing himself under Dumbledore's protection where he could not be openly touched.
It was dusk by the time Gilves finished the potion. Solim had not been idle, spending the hours in the Orvis library until Elrond summoned him. He had managed to copy several rare potion recipes, a satisfactory consolation for the day's tensions.
When they returned to the room, Gilves was studying Solim's codex. He looked up, his expression grave. "Boy, are you certain only this first potion is needed now?"
Snape had not developed a single potion to cure Squibness, but a regimen. Like Muggle medicine, it was a course of treatment, tailored to the patient's specific magical resonance. With only Filch as a test subject, many details remained theoretical. This was a question beyond Solim, but one where Elrond and Gilves could collaborate. They would determine the precise sequence of the three potions for Flegg.
Half an hour after administering the first phial to Flegg, the results were clear: it was working. The boy's magical aura was stabilising. To fully awaken his magic, the correct sequence of the remaining three potions was still to be determined, but the breakthrough was undeniable. Gilves was so exhilarated he forgot about dinner, retreating immediately to his laboratory with Solim's notes. Solim and Elrond found their own meal forgotten in the wake of the success.
Elrond was not upset; he was counting on his old friend's expertise for Sylna. In matters of potions, he readily admitted Gilves was his superior. There was still time—nine months until the next Hogwarts term began. It was enough to secure Sylna's future.
"Alright, we'll stay the night," Elrond said, leading Solim to a guest wing, his familiarity with the manor making it clear he was no stranger here. "We leave for Little Hangleton first thing in the morning."
In a dimly lit room elsewhere in the manor, a different conversation was taking place.
"Father, what do we do if that Squib really becomes a wizard?"
"That boy, Solim, has talent, but to develop such a potion alone? Impossible. He has a master backing him." Deli Orvis paced, his face twisted in thought. "I will contact the Ritch family immediately. Their heir was killed by that boy. They will not let this rest. And now, with the two of them away from Selwyn Castle... the timing is perfect."
"But can it be done?" Lyman pressed. "Won't they have a Portkey?"
A wizard of Elrond's stature would never travel without a Portkey. It allowed for instant return, bypassing the need for Apparition, which could be monitored by the Ministry and was often blocked by ancient manor wards like those surrounding the Orvis estate. While Apparition was taxing and unstable, a Portkey was convenient and secure. Of course, only families like the Selwyns or Orvis could flout the Ministry's registration laws with impunity.
"Portkeys are not infallible," Deli hissed. "They require a moment to activate. If we strike at the right moment, we can interrupt it. Reusing a Portkey has a cooldown period. If we can kill them both within that window..." He didn't need to finish. With his own skills and the support of the vengeful Ritch family, he was confident he could eliminate the threat. With their backing, how could that old fool Gilves hope to stand against him? The headship of the Orvis family would finally be his.