Chapter 54.3- Doom Days

We were told, more or less in those exact words, to get off the pitch in short order, and we did so. I tried to shake hands with Kuznetsova, maybe strike up a conversation about how it felt to have been under the influence of my new type of illusion, but she gave me a wide berth, kept her eyes trained on the ground so I could get no eye contact for legilimency and walked out of the gate so quickly one might have assumed she had the hounds of hell at her feet. Disappointing.

I’d probably have to get Sirius to play test subject for mw in the end, and I could already hear his moaning about it. He would agree, but it was not in his nature to give in without a fight. To capitulate without testing the patience of every other person involved. I could appreciate it when I was not one of the others involved— his negotiations around selling Grimmuald Place to Malfoy had been oh so amusing to hear about. The fact that he ended up getting even more money for it than his initial asking price was just genius, but I had the feeling that the extra gold had just been paid for Sirius to get out of the man’s hair. Most people knew the Malfoys were rich, but it was not until Sirius had explained it to me that tI understood how rich.

Needless to say, the man could have bought Grimmauld Place three times, and not even noticed the difference in his wealth. Centuries of proper wealth management, ownership of the rights to most of the popular potions still in use today, and exemptions from most of the taxes levied in this world could compound massively to form wealth that was not just generational. Even if they just let it sit there, no Malfoy in centuries would ever have to work for gold.

I returned to the competitor’s box in high spirits, and to confused looks. From the outside, it must have looked like my opponent just suddenly seized up and left herself wide open to my disarming spell. Most wouldn’t assume an illusion on first instance. No one here would be unfamiliar with how illusions traditionally worked, and they would know well enough that a traditional illusion was unlikely to cause that outcome.

Instead, they would probably think I’d…and here I sent my mind out into theirs, plucking stray thoughts with ease from those who lacked barriers— close to half the room while leaning against the edge of said barriers for whose who did have them and trying to get a feel for their surface thought. Some thought I’d poisoned her during the conversation. Others felt I had bribed her at the stairs— or blackmailed her. There was even a suspicion going around that I had cursed her while her back was turned before the duel ever even began. They were all bullshit, of course, but they still infuriated me in some small way. To have my effort so easily disregarded was not a pleasant experience.