The Witcher: Ascending Beyond Marvel

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Lucius, who had been brimming with arrogance just moments ago, felt an inexplicable wave of panic swell within him as he locked eyes with Wes. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years—one that clawed at his composure and made his breath hitch. He couldn't explain why, but the mere presence of the young professor unsettled him.

His instincts screamed at him to look away, to retreat before his carefully constructed mask cracked. Without another word, he grabbed Draco's arm and stormed out of Flourish and Blotts, his mind a chaotic swirl of dread and confusion.

As he stepped onto the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, his heartbeat pounded against his ribs like a war drum. He inhaled deeply, forcing his erratic breathing under control. Then, his hand instinctively reached for his chest—a habitual reassurance that what he carried was still safe.

Except this time, it wasn't.

Lucius' entire body stiffened. His fingers searched frantically, patting down his robes, delving into every pocket, even checking the folds of his cloak.

Nothing.

A cold dread spread through his veins like ice. His skin, already pale, lost what little color remained. His vision blurred at the edges as the reality of his situation crashed over him.

"Where are my things?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, louder. "Where are they?!"

He turned himself inside out, hoping—praying—that it had merely slipped to another pocket, that this was some sick trick his nerves were playing on him. But no matter how desperately he searched, he came up empty.

It was gone.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold stone pavement, his legs refusing to hold him any longer. Passersby cast curious glances his way, but he hardly noticed. The only thing that existed in his world at that moment was the terrifying realization that he had lost the diary.

The diary.

The object entrusted to him by him.

Lucius Malfoy was not a man who frightened easily. He had wealth, influence, and the confidence that came with both. But the thought of what would happen if he found out that Lucius had lost such a crucial artifact sent a primal fear coursing through his body.

A trembling hand ran through his platinum hair, sweat dampening his temples despite the chill in the air. His heart hammered so violently he feared it might burst. He tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry.

Draco, oblivious to the turmoil gripping his father, tilted his head in confusion. He had never seen Lucius like this—so shaken, so human.

"Dad? What's wrong?" Draco asked hesitantly, his small hand reaching for his father's sleeve.

Lucius forced himself to inhale slowly, to regain some semblance of control. "It's nothing," he lied, though his trembling fingers betrayed him. "I... I just dropped something."

Draco frowned. His father was lying. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. Lucius Malfoy never showed weakness. He was always composed, always in control. Yet here he was, sitting on the ground, looking more like a lost man than the esteemed head of the Malfoy family.

"Was it important?" Draco pressed.

Lucius hesitated. "Just... a diary."

Draco blinked. "A diary? That's all?" He let out a relieved chuckle, his young mind unable to grasp the gravity of the situation. "If it's just a diary, we can buy another one. There are plenty inside the bookstore."

Lucius' breath hitched. Draco's innocent words lit a spark of hope within him.

Flourish and Blotts.

It had to have fallen inside the store.

Lucius surged to his feet, energy returning to his limbs. Without another word, he spun around and rushed back toward the bookstore, his long cloak billowing behind him.

"Dad, wait for me!" Draco called, scrambling after him, his short legs struggling to keep up.

Lucius barely heard him. His mind was solely focused on one thing: retrieving that diary before anyone else laid claim to it. He fumbled with his monocle, adjusting it over his eye. This was no ordinary lens—it was enchanted, capable of magnifying objects in the distance with impressive clarity.

His gaze darted over the store's interior, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

And then he saw it.

The diary.

It lay on the wooden floor of Flourish and Blotts, slightly askew, its dark cover unmistakable. Relief crashed over Lucius in a tidal wave, and he exhaled sharply. He had found it. He had—

His breath caught.

A shadow moved, and he watched in horror as Wes bent down, picked up the diary, and dusted it off.

Lucius' fingers clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. No. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people to find it, why him?

Wes glanced up, and to Lucius' utter disbelief, he nodded at him.

Lucius blinked rapidly, wondering if his monocle was playing tricks on him. But no, there Wes stood, holding the diary, offering what appeared to be a polite, almost knowing acknowledgment.

Lucius' mouth went dry. His monocle slipped from his eye socket, landing with a small clink on the ground.

"Dad?" Draco huffed as he caught up, panting from the exertion. "Why are you acting so weird? It's just a diary!"

Lucius ignored him, forcing himself to remain composed. He placed the monocle back on, adjusting it carefully before glancing at Wes again.

The professor was speaking to the Weasleys, the diary tucked under his arm as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

For a moment, Lucius wondered if he had imagined the significance of it all. If perhaps his panic had been unwarranted.

"Dad?" Draco nudged him again.

Lucius inhaled slowly. "It's nothing," he murmured, his voice steadier now.

"Professor Wes Irwin... He teaches at Hogwarts, doesn't he?"

"Yeah! He's the new Magic Runes professor," Draco said eagerly. His eyes lit up with admiration as he launched into an enthusiastic recollection of their previous year. "He's really powerful! Last year in the Forbidden Forest—"

Lucius' head snapped toward him. "Forbidden Forest? What were you doing there?"

Draco stiffened, realizing too late that he had said too much. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, shifting uncomfortably under his father's sharp gaze.

Lucius sighed, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly. He reached out, ruffling Draco's blond hair in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Tell me more about this Professor Irwin," he said instead, his voice deceptively casual.

If the diary is in the hands of a professor, it will inevitably end up at Hogwarts.

Lucius allowed himself a small, relieved smirk.

The result is what matters. Not the process.

He took Draco's hand and turned away from Flourish and Blotts. For now, he would let fate run its course.

—

Meanwhile, Wes politely declined the Weasleys' invitation to dinner. He had only one thing on his mind—the diary now resting in his hands. He hurried back to his quarters at Hogwarts, his pulse quickening with anticipation.

He knew exactly what this was.

A Horcrux.

A fragment of Voldemort's very soul.

And now, it was in his possession.

As Wes locked the diary away, casting protective enchantments over it, a smirk played at his lips.

"Plenty of time to unravel your secrets, senior."