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"You weren't in your room last night," Isaac finally spoke into the silence.
I blinked a few times, turning away from the window. Admittedly, I had zoned out for a while after the threat of Cassius finding me was no longer hanging over my neck. But there were only so many times you could admonish yourself for being a careless idiot, and the craggy ridges of the Scottish Highlands had become boring too, at this point.
"No, but it was nice of you to check on me," I said dryly.
"Didn't need to." Isaac let a small smile curl his lips. All his expressions seemed measured like that, restrained to the barest minimum. "I think the whole of Slytherin heard it when Cassius blew your door to pieces."
I snorted. "Waste of a good door. It wasn't warded or charmed or anything. I didn't even put one of those in it." I pointed at the door handle. "I can't charge them on my own."
And that was the worst of it all. What Isaac did in a few seconds might take me a few weeks, if it worked at all. Anything that took more than an iota of magic never seemed to function the way I wanted it to.
"Ah." Isaac gave me a commiserating look. "And here I thought you had figured out how to do normal magic, given your show just now. Impressive, that. Especially the sound proofing."
I stared back at him, considering. This might be a good moment to start bringing Isaac further into my confidence. There's a sense of comradery that comes with facing tough odds together. It's what turns soldiers into brothers in arms. Hell, it's what brought the golden trio together despite their ridiculously different personalities.
"No, that's something else I taught myself," I said, feigning caution. "I can't go around being useless in everything, can I? It's how I made the fake project yesterday."
"I thought you'd paid someone to do it for you," he said, chuckling.
"Don't have the money for it." I gazed out the window, then said as casually as possible, "Not for now, at least."
If I hadn't been waiting for it, I would've missed it. From the corner of my eyes, I saw his body lean forward just the tiniest bit. The boy was too curious for his own good.
"Well, well, look at that. First Cassius, now the business world. Is there anything young Octavian won't tackle." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of chocolates and broke the bar down the middle, before offering me the slightly bigger half. All with the most natural look on his face. "Are you thinking of starting a business or something?"
I had underestimated Isaac. It was beautifully done, really. First the praise, then the offer of food to solidify the bond of trust before digging into the interesting questions. Had I not been on the other side of the table of smarter men than I as they tried to pry out every secret in my head, all with genuine smiles on their faces, I might have gone with it. Any Hogwarts student would gladly spill their guts out, especially after helping each other out earlier.
Truly, Isaac's talents were wasted skulking around corners pretending to be a useless nobody.
I purposefully hesitated on the offered chocolate for another moment before reaching for it. "I already have." Leaning back against the padded cushions of the compartment, I popped the chocolate in my mouth, watching for his reaction. "I sell those locks there to a few stores, among other things. Just not for what they are worth."
His eyebrows narrowed slightly. There. He wasn't trained. He was good, but he had tells. If I had to bet, I'd say he found out by himself the value of knowing more about others than they know about you.
"You sell them?" he asked, sounding doubtful. "Not to be an arse and all, but why would anyone even buy it? A normal locking charm is more than enough for children."
I knew I had to divest the image Octavian had created for himself if I wanted to draw some of my peers to my inner circle. And more importantly, in this world and especially in Slytherin, I needed to prove I was better at them. More skilled. More powerful. More influential. Worthy of being followed.
I couldn't do most of that quite yet, but I could start with my strengths.
"You'd think, but accidental magic can break through normal locking charms as easily as a counter-spell. Just like Cassius did to yours in the carriage door, and how he tried to do it here." I gave him my sharpest smile. "But my door handle will just absorb the magic you throw at it and use it to further power the lock."
"Huh… that's cool, actually." It was sad how surprised Isaac seemed to be. He broke off a small piece of his chocolate and started chewing on it. "So, does that mean you could make an unbreakable door or something?" he asked. "Because I know a family or ten who would pay good money for that."
I paused to think for a second. "Theoretically it's possible, yes." It wasn't a lie either. Octavian knew his theory. "But you'd have to use a wardstone for a door handle, and I'm not so sure anyone but the Malfoys can afford that."
That got a chuckle out of Isaac. I continued, "Nothing else would be able to hold that much magic in it, and even then it's not infinite. Now, since I sell it as a simple household item, any grown wizard can reset the lock by overpowering it with a consistent flow of magic or a powerful enough spell, but a kid's accidental magic—or a spell by an angry fifteen year old—will just get sucked up as fuel."
"Impressive." He gave me an approving nod. "You must be making a lot of money, then. I have a younger brother myself that I wouldn't mind keeping out of my room. How much do they sell for?"
I cringed. "The stores sell them for five galleons a piece but…"
Isaac was quick to notice my hesitancy. "But…" he prompted, urging me with his free hand as he bit off another piece of the chocolate.
I raked my fingers over my hair. "Look, I was an idiot, alright?" Was it first-hand or second-hand embarrassment if the moron was the previous owner of your body? "Let's just say I have to stop by Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade and Rowle's in the Alley this summer to straighten out a new deal."
Isaac stopped chewing as soon as he heard the name. "Rowle's you say?" He looked pensieve for a moment, as if deciding whether to speak on it or not. Then he bundled up his last bit of chocolate in what was left of the wrapping, stuck it in his pocket, and put both hands on the table. His expression had turned serious. "My family has deals with the Rowle family, both the main branch and with the cousin who runs the shop. I've only met him once but… I would be careful about this, Octavian. Mr. Rowle is not exactly an agreeable fellow, especially when it comes to matters involving gold."
"He can be as disagreeable as he wants," I said, frowning. "If he doesn't fork out what I ask—which is no more than what's fair, mind you—then he'll lose my business and some other store will gladly take it up."
"You can do that, sure." The nonchalant words didn't match the way his arms had gone rigid over the table. "Then that other store burns down in a mysterious fire overnight. And the next one too. Next thing you know, an anonymous letter is threatening to burn your own house if you don't return to business as usual."
For a second, I stilled on the bench. So it was like that, then. Glancing up, I noticed Isaac was watching me with what I could only call apprehension. Nice of him, but unnecessary. With the best intentions, Isaac was trying to help me here, to discourage me from doing something that to his mind was a fool's errand.
And it might be too, if I continued to deal with things half-cocked like I did with Cassius and Justin. Octavian's and my own knowledge of this world was my biggest weakness beside my innate failure as a wizard. If I wanted to make any more moves, be they small or large, I needed more information on my enemies.
So, to gauge his reaction, I asked, "They would do that to the son of a Pureblood family?"
Isaac gave a weak smile. "Pureblood the Princes may be, but it's an open secret that your father has all but bankrupt your family. You won't get any concessions through your name, I don't think."
Whatever good mood I had wilted like a dying flower, and I had to stave off the string of curses I wanted to shout out so loudly Flavius would hear me all the way from whatever whorehouse he was at.
It was one thing for me to know that my father had crashed and burned with our finances. It would've been hard even for Octavian not to notice the family's properties being slowly drained to sustain Flavius' addictions.
No doubt the bank account went first, but then the family heirlooms started disappearing from the cabinets. The cabinets themselves were next, and the paintings, tapestries, vases, and all the artworks our family had assorted through the centuries. Octavian had stopped caring after his mother's jewelry and clothes were suddenly gone one Saturday morning.
But to find out all of wizarding society knew we were paupers as well? Octavian truly was his father's son. It was like the duo had conspired to craft the worst possible reputation for me.
The carriage we were in suddenly trembled as the Hogwarts Expressed traveled over an old stone bridge. A glimpse outside showed a deep gorge cutting the land between two ridges like a bad wound that hadn't scarred quite right.
Within my mind's eye, I could see myself jumping up to stand on the padded bench, pulling open the window, and hurtling myself down into the shadowy depths of the gorge. My situation down there wouldn't be much different than how things were going up here, plus a few broken bones. Nothing deadly, probably. Wizards were built tough like that.
Isaac's voice brought me back to the moment. "And besides, if the family is not in the club, then the Rowles won't care much, pureblood or not. It might change how ruthless he'll act, but the end result will be the same."
"Wait club?" I tilted my head. "What club?"
"You don't—" Isaac stopped himself after taking one look at my expression. "Of course you don't." He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. "All you need to know is that while Dumbledore and his groupies have a narrow majority control over the Wizengamot, there's a group of sixteen families that basically controls—or at least influences—most if not all the economic activity north of the channel, and if you want to go into any business in the country, then—-"
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Isaac went taut opposite me, mouth snapping shut, and my first reaction was to bring a hand up to my nonexistent hand-gun. I scowled, then carried it lower and took my wand out of my pocket. I had to train myself out of that instinct.
Isaac had done the same, his wand being held between himself and the door, and this time, there was no mistaking where it pointed at.