Harry shook his head quickly. "No, not at all. We just ran into each other once before."
"Oh, so you're Harry Potter?" Malfoy seemed to process this a beat later, his eyes widening slightly. "The Harry Potter? The 'Boy Who Lived'?"
The moment he heard "Boy Who Lived," Harry's entire body stiffened. He said coldly, "I'm afraid not." Then he looked up at Bernadette. "Mr. Vincent, shall we go?"
"Mm."
A voice rang out and stopped Bernadette in her tracks.
"Vincent Moriraty."
A tall figure strolled forward unhurriedly. He carried a cane topped with a silver serpent's head, and a pair of cold grey eyes fixed themselves on Bernadette as he extended his hand with an air of unhurried ease. "Didn't expect to run into you here."
Bernadette did not take his hand. The reason was simple — Vincent's notes on this world contained no information about this man. Which meant, as far as she was concerned: who exactly are you?
Faced with Bernadette's cool, unblinking stare, Lucius Malfoy felt a jolt run through him. He instinctively looked away, then caught himself and bristled, forcing his gaze back. "You should know — I was the first of the school governors to write 'approved' on your appointment letter."
Appointment letter? School governor?
Bernadette latched onto both phrases and replied with measured indifference, "I thank you for that."
Lucius glanced briefly at his son. "Draco, take your friend and chat elsewhere for a bit."
"Of course, Father."
Malfoy looked genuinely surprised that his father knew this man. "Saviour, sir."
Harry cut in flatly, "My name is Harry Potter."
"Right, Harry Potter, then."
Malfoy gave an indifferent shrug. "I'm sure you'd rather not get in the way of adult business, yes?"
Harry hesitated and glanced at Vincent. Vincent gave him a small nod, and Harry — reluctantly — followed Malfoy to one side.
Lucius continued. "But Rowle, Yaxley, and several other families are very unhappy about your appointment as a Hogwarts professor. They failed to dissuade Dumbledore, but they've already begun gathering… certain evidence to use against you."
Lucius leaned half a step closer and dropped his voice. "Evidence connecting you to dark wizards."
Bernadette felt a flicker of genuine surprise. Vincent has connections to the very dark wizards he claims to loathe? Is this man spinning tales — or is it the truth?
She said evenly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Good. That's exactly the right answer for an accusation like this. But if they produce actual evidence, that posture alone won't save you. Even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop the Aurors from sending you to Azkaban."
"…Are you threatening me?" Bernadette asked, without any particular inflection.
"No, no, no."
Lucius smiled pleasantly. "Merely a word of friendly advice — and an olive branch, if you'll take it. You may have a few disputes with the other pure-blood families, but you've had no quarrel with the Malfoys." He reached out to clap her on the shoulder. "So I hope you'll consider—"
Crack.
"Aaagh!!!"
The instant Lucius's palm touched Bernadette's shoulder, she caught his wrist, twisted hard, stepped behind him, and pinned his arm up his back, forcing him down to one knee with a cry of pain.
"Let go of my father!" Malfoy, who'd been holding forth to Harry about pure-blood prestige just moments before, spun around in alarm and sprinted over.
Harry felt a stab of anxiety — but beneath it, a voice in his heart said with great satisfaction: Well done, Mr. Vincent.
Bernadette released Lucius's wrist and gave him a firm push forward. "My apologies," she said flatly. "I'm not accustomed to being touched without my consent. Especially not by a man."
Lucius stumbled and caught himself, his expression shifting from arrogance to fury. He gripped his serpent-headed cane and — after a long moment — did not draw it. He rose slowly, gently pushed his son aside, and said with ice in every syllable, "Very well. I hope you're still this bold the next time we meet."
Swish.
He'd barely turned to leave when the staff swung forward, crossing in front of his throat and blocking his path. Behind him, Vincent's voice came quietly: "Are you threatening me again?"
Lucius let out a cold snort and moved to push the staff aside.
It didn't move.
"…???"
He was thrown off. Does this Vincent Moriraty have troll blood? Giant blood? How can he be this strong?
After a beat of hesitation, Lucius chose to step around the staff — but Bernadette advanced a step to match him. "You think you can threaten me and just walk away?"
She held out her open palm. "Two hundred Galleons."
Lucius: "???"
What — you're robbing me? In broad daylight? In Diagon Alley?
I don't care if you have connections to dark wizards — you are a dark wizard. And a bold one at that. Even most dark wizards know better than to pull something like this here.
A vein pulsed at Lucius's temple. He fought down the impulse to pull out his wand and curse him where he stood. There was an unwritten rule in the wizarding world: who threw the first spell was what mattered. A physical altercation — no matter how bloody — was one thing. The moment a wand came out, the stakes changed entirely.
It was precisely why, in their second year, Arthur Weasley and Lucius had beaten each other black and blue in the middle of Flourish and Blotts with neither man reaching for a wand — once a spell was cast, the nature of the confrontation shifted entirely.
And Lucius knew perfectly well that in a fistfight with someone this absurdly strong, he would be the one walking away in pieces.
With a growing number of passing wizards casting curious glances their way, Lucius knew that if he didn't act quickly, he would be the one looking the Wizard — with his son watching, no less.
He made his decision instantly. He stormed up to Bernadette with all the menace he could project and snarled, "Vincent, you've gone too far!" — and as he spoke, his hand slipped a coin purse quietly into hers.
"This ends here."
Bernadette stood there for a moment, caught off guard. The "extortion," if she was honest, had been a purely instinctual move — the kind of thing she'd do without thinking. After all, the man was a grown adult wizard. At close quarters, she had nothing to fear from him physically, but there was still risk. She hadn't genuinely expected him to… fold that quickly.
And the way he'd done it — it had its own kind of flair.
Satisfied that Vincent had taken the money, Lucius stepped back two paces, fixed his expression into something glacial, and walked away. Malfoy, still entirely at a loss as to what had just happened, shot Bernadette and Harry a parting glare and jogged to catch up with his father.
Harry walked back over, feeling faintly dazed. So was that a wizarding duel I just witnessed? Somehow… it still wasn't quite what I'd imagined.
"Do you know who they are, Harry?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I only just learnt his name — Draco Malfoy."
Bernadette weighed the coin purse in her hand and said nothing more. But everything that had happened today needed to be written down for Vincent to deal with when he returned.
"Are you quite sure there's nothing else you need to buy? I've just come into a small windfall — consider it a treat."
Harry blinked. "Ah? No, no, I'm fine."
Where on earth did Mr. Vincent get that purse from?
To be continued…