Chapter 119: Start of The Summer (1/2)

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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Quinn sat down on the chair in a semi-ornate and elegant office. To his front was the office's owner, who sat behind a desk.

”I assume we're going to talk about the Greengrass and Potter matters,” asked Quinn.

”Yes, we are,” replied the older gentleman. ”I understand the Potters, but you didn't tell me anything about the Greengrass family. What relation do you have with them?”

It was the day after Quinn had returned from Hogwarts. He was sitting in his grandfather's office talking about his associations with children of affluent and well-connected families.

”The Potters want to invite me to show hospitality and their gratitude for having helped them out. When their invitations arrive, I'll reply at my own discretion,” answered Quinn before moving on to the next family.

”... The Greengrass matter is a bit more complicated and yet so simple,” sighed Quinn. ”The Greengrass bloodline suffers from a blood curse, a generational curse that is passed along to the descendants. It causes them to have a limited lifespan and an even weaker constitution. The curse skips generations and doesn't affect everyone, but this generation was out of luck.”

”This curse resurfaced? Who is it?”

”Astoria Greengrass, the younger of the Greengrass children. She bears the curse and with it, all its malignant effects,” answered Quinn thinking about the weak Astoria that he saw in the hospital wing bed.

”And you have a way to cure the blood curse?”

Quinn shook his head in rejection. ”No, I'm not able to cure it. If I had the cure, we wouldn't have this talk. I would've cured her, and that would have been the end.”

”It seems you've made friends. Friends you don't mind helping out with nothing in return.”

”Yes, I have. I have made a few close friends,” nodded Quinn. ”I gave Astoria my word that I would help her mitigate the symptoms of the blood curse whenever she needed. And I assured her older sister that I will continue to palliate Astoria's symptoms until a cure is found or discovered. And that can be in many, many years from now.”

”How have you been able to help the younger daughter? I'm sure the Greengrass Family must have been looking for the cure for centuries.”

Quinn sighed and then raised his hands. He willed his magic and his forearm glowed in a fiery red light, highlighting his veins.

”Blood magic,” sighed Quinn. He didn't want to show magics that were questionable from a moral point of view. ”I used blood magic to repress the curse. It worked wonders because the blood curse has been created with the same branch of magic.”

He didn't go into the details of the magic as it wasn't necessary.

”Blood magic. Yes, I remember there being a few books in your collections. I just hoped it would be a while till you started to dabble in dangerous magic,” sighed George West. ”The books weren't from around here, that's for sure. Are you sure it's safe for you? Any dangers in general?”

”There aren't. It's just like any healing spell. I won't be in danger of any harm from the blood curse and neither will Astoria,” answered Quinn.

”So what do you want me to do? She's your friend. Of course you can continue to heal her,” said George.

”Astoria is my friend, but Jacob Greengrass isn't. He is the Greengrass householder,” said Quinn. ”I was thinking you could use this opportunity to build some positive and profitable ties with the Greengrass Family. I will leave the matters to you. I will continue to heal Astoria regardless of whether you get a partnership or not.”

”Mhm, you think Jacob Greengrass will likely show some goodwill towards us because you're healing his daughter.”

”Yes, his daughter will continue to receive my treatment. If you could take advantage of the situation, strike a deal and start a business venture together, it will be a win-win for everyone. I'm sure Jacob Greengrass will be thrilled to do business with us and, thus, he will be quite proactive,” suggested Quinn, seeing this situation as a viable business opportunity.

George nodded. He agreed that this would indeed be a good business opportunity.

”Alright, after Jacob Greengrass sends over a letter, I shall set up a meeting. We'll see if he wants to cooperate.”

Quinn nodded. He didn't want to be part of such matters.

”Now, about the Potters?” asked George.

”What about them?”

”Do you want us to go with you?”

”Hmm, if you want. You're welcome to join me,” said Quinn. He shrugged. He didn't care whether his grandfather came along with him or not.

”I see, then I won't be coming along,” declared George. ”I've nothing to talk about with the Potter Family. You could ask Lia. Perhaps she'll want to come with you.”

”Alright, I'll ask Lia.” nodded Quinn.

”Anything else you want to talk about?” trying to end the conversation. He needed to leave for a meeting in a while.

”Oh, yes. I want to learn apparition, so I'll need you to book me an apparition course...” said Quinn, and when he saw George didn't look averse to the idea, he continued. ”... in Denmark.”

George was about to agree but then stopped at Quinn's words. ”In Denmark? Why?”

”They have legalized under-seventeen apparition there, so I thought, if I am going to learn apparition, why not learn it where it's legal at my age,” shrugged Quinn, explaining his reasoning to his grandfather. ”Also, I thought it would be fun to get out of the country for a week.”

”A week?” smiled George. ”Are you implying that it will take you only a week to learn how to apparate? That's too little time to learn apparition, don't you think?”

A smile of confidence surfaced on Quinn's face as he replied, ”Of course not, I'm sure it will take longer to become a master, but I'm sure I'll get the basics down in under a week. Enough to get around, I presume.”

George tapped his finger on his desk. He gazed at Quinn for a few seconds before nodding.

”Alright, I will arrange your travel and stay. One of our associates will chaperon you while you stay in Denmark.”

”I don't require a chaperon,” rebuked Quinn.

”Of course, I understand, yet I insist that there be one,” inquired Geroge. ”Of course, whomever I choose won't restrict your movements. They will only make sure that you're safe.”

Quinn sighed. He knew that no matter what he said, it wouldn't work. George West had decided it, and Quinn wasn't feeling rebellious enough to defy his grandfather.

”Please choose someone fun. At least someone who is... flexible. You know, not reluctant to do some exploration,” asked Quinn.

George smiled in reply.

”I shall see what I can do.”

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- (Scene Break) -

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”You've become sloppy. Your fingers are rigid, the flow is terrible, and the sound, oh my ears, the sound. It's like the chords have been substituted by arpeggios.”

Quinn winced as he played the piano. Listening to cutting taunts and criticism to his playing wasn't his cup of tea.

'Now I know why I never got the urge to play after I returned home,' thought Quinn as he continued to play Diabelli's Sonatina Op. 151.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his strict piano teacher looking at him disapprovingly.

”I didn't have much time to regularly practice, Ms. Rosey,” said Quinn. He was conscious that he had played the piano a little more than a handful of times.

”I didn't expect you to make excuses, young master,” humphed Ms. Rosey as her eyes narrowed. ”If one wants to make time, they'll find the time. It's called time management. If you want to make excuses, at least choose a believable one.”

Quinn suppressed a groan but didn't stop playing, as stopping while playing a piece in the middle wasn't an option.

He closed his eyes, and the efficiency aspect of his occlumency came into play. His mind became sharper, and so did his control over his body.

The fingers became mechanical as the sound of the piano began to flow. It lacked individuality and emotions, but it was correct, precise, and how the piece was supposed to be played.

Ms. Rosey looked at the piano, then at Quinn's hands, and finally at Quinn. She didn't say anything until Quinn was done finishing the piece.

The piece was finally done, and Quinn's fingers finally came to a stop. He looked up at Ms. Rosey and asked, ”How was the last act? It flowed, didn't it?”

”It was more than decent,” nodded Ms. Rosey. ”But you used magic as an aid. It wasn't your natural skill. But I will allow it. It will, at least, shake off the rust.”

'I can't get a break,' sighed Quinn.

”I will get better than this by the end of the break,” assured Quinn.

”No magic?”

”No magic,” nodded Quinn. ”Pure skill.”

Quinn turned back to the piano and once again began playing. This time the piece was more mainstream: Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 12 in F Major.

He didn't use occlumency to improve his skill. The accuracy while playing was lower, but the individuality and emotion remained.

”Better,” complimented Ms. Rosey as she could tell the difference.

As he continued to play, Quinn heard Ms. Rosey speak up again.

”I heard you'll soon be going to the Potter's for dinner?”