Lucius Malfoy thought he must have been bewitched – or, as the filthy Muggles might say, hypnotized. How else could he explain why he had followed the instructions of a mere child, retrieving the diary from its hidden place and bringing it to her?

“Well, young miss,” he said, his tone laced with condescension, “I believe it’s your turn to prove your claims. Lying is not a habit a well-bred child should indulge in.”

“But isn’t it a necessary virtue for the head of a family when circumstances demand?” Scarlet countered with a teasing smile before adding, “Would you care for a moment with the diary? To see if it truly belongs to Tom Riddle?”

“A diary claiming to belonged to Tom Riddle doesn’t prove he’s the Dark Lord,” Lucius Malfoy shot back, narrowing his eyes. “Are you stalling, young lady? Or do you mean to evade showing me this so-called deity of yours?”

Scarlet tilted her head slightly, her expression calm. “I’m merely suggesting that destroying this diary would rob you of the chance to confirm my words. Though I wouldn’t mind if you chose to do so.” Her smile faded as she stood, exuding an air of a quiet authority. She did not touch the diary but gestured with a wave, and the book fell to the floor with a thud.

That act was precise, effortless - wandless and nonverbal magic executed so skilfully that the pale-haired man’s eyes widened in disbelief. Before he could react, Scarlet extended her hand into an unseen portal and pulled out a spear, its crimson hue radiating menace.

The moment Lucius Malfoy laid eyes on the weapon, a searing pain flared in his gaze, forcing him to shut his eyes. He winced, attempting to soothe the burning sensation.

Scarlet noticed his reaction and glanced at the spear, muttering softly to herself, though her voice carried enough for Lucius Malfoy to hear. “Interesting. Gáe Scáil dislikes you. I’ve never seen it reject a witness before.”

She patted the spear gently, as though calming an irritable pet. Lucius Malfoy, still reeling, finally managed to open his eyes. He squinted at the weapon, taking in its bizarre, ominous design.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, observe.” Scarlet’s voice was steady as she tightened her grip on the spear and began reciting an incantation. Her words were carefully crafted, omitting the true nature of the diary as a Horcrux.

“O Great Guardian of the Shadowy Land, Queen who stands between life and death, your humble servant summons your judgement. For an object cursed by a fractured soul, cowardly seeking refuge from the call of death, requires the Queen’s decree--”

A palpable pressure filled the room as the deity’s gaze descended upon them. To Scarlet and Meiko, it was light, almost imperceptible. But for the Head of the Malfoys, they weight bore down heavily on his shoulder, an invisible force that made his nerves thrum with unease.

Lucius Malfoy know instinctively that this was no ordinary magic. The gaze wasn’t from a beast or even a powerful wizard. It belonged to a deity – an otherworldly presence that transcended his understanding. Cold sweat trickled down his face as he felt the deity’s stern judgement focused squarely on him.

“--In the name of Scáthach, let this cursed item, bound by a fractured soul, perish and face the Queen’s judgement! Gáe Scáil!”

As Scarlet completed the chant, the spear shone brilliantly, its crimson light piercing the dim study. She thrust the weapon into the diary, striking its centre with precision.

Much like the last Horcrux, a blood-red liquid seeped from the book as a thin wisp of dark smoke emerged, forming faint, hateful eyes. The smoke let out a weak, despairing scream before dissipating into the air. As the pressure of the deity’s gaze vanished, the room fell silent.

The diary now lay on the floor, its pages blotched with ink and riddled with the wrinkles and tears. The gaping, translucent hole left by the spear bore evidence of the torment it had endure.

“Meiko, burn it, please,” Scarlet instructed calmly.

“Yes, Milady,” Meiko replied, her tone steady as her flicked open her fan.

The red circle on the fan’s white fabric began to glow, radiating an intense warmth. A beam of light shot forth, illuminating the diary, which ignited in an instant. The flames consumed it completely, leaving no ash or trace behind.

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the main and her peculiar fan. A weapon masquerading as a fan, its edges razor-sharp, wielded by a Japanese witch using an unfamiliar form of magic steeped in tradition – how could such thing exist?

And the girl – she had summoned a deity’s gaze with nothing but a chant of ordinary words. What kind of magic was this?

“Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?” Scarlet’s voice broke through his racing thoughts.

He blinked and turned to her, his expression a complex mix of apprehension and curiosity. “Young miss, you have demonstrated your...capabilities. Regarding what you mentioned earlier...”

“There are all true,” Scarlet said, meeting his gaze. “I believe Draco has told you I’m a Hufflepuff. While that may not seem significant, it does suggest certain traits that come with being in that house.”

The pale-haired man studied her in silence for a moment before asking, “Why are you doing all of this?”

“Because it is my duty as the Queen’s follower,” she replied simply.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Because Hufflepuffs were known for their unyielding moral compass, walking paths of justice no matter how burdensome.

Lucius Malfoy smirked, a new understanding dawning on him. Of course - a typical Hufflepuff would shoulder responsibilities far beyond their own if they believed it served justice. “You are quite the enigma, Ms. Hong.”

“I suppose I am,” Scarlet said with a smile.

Mr. Malfoy straightened, his aristocratic demeanour returning. “Frankly, I disapprove of your method and, to be honest, I dislike you. However, my son speaks highly of you in his letters. I trust you are treating him as a genuine friend and not using him as a pawn for some...ulterior motive.”

Scarlet resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Ah, overprotective parents. They’re all the same, whether in magical or non-magical circles. The memory of her days as a disciplinarian in the academy resurfaced, where she had faced parents who adamantly defended their “innocent angels”, even when their children were clearly the bullied. Well, at least Mr. Malfoy had the decency to maintain his pureblood elegance while respecting Draco’s choices in friendships.

“Rest assured, my dealings with you have no bearing on my friendship with Draco,” Scarlet said with a nod.

Though Mr. Malfoy showed no inclination to remove the Dark Mark, witnessing the deity’s presence had given him pause. Reluctantly, he agreed to Scarlet’s terms, resolving to forget he had ever possessed the cursed diary that contained clues to the Dark Lord’s soul fragments.

As Scarlet and Meiko prepared to leave the study, Mr. Malfoy spoke in a near whisper, “He will be safe at Hogwarts, won’t he?”

Scarlet’s voice softened to match his. “Yes, he will. I will stand against any danger. No harm will come to him or my peaceful school life – not while I live.”

“Better.” He murmured, his tone carrying a faint hint of relief.

Scarlet spent the rest of the day in the Malfoy garden with Draco. Observing Mrs. Malfoy’s warm treatment toward her, Scarlet concluded that Mr. Malfoy hadn’t disclosed what had transpired in the study – no to his wife, and certainly not to Draco. In fact, he behaved like an entirely different person when his family was present: gentle, composed, and seemingly approachable.

What a masterful actor, Scarlet mused as she watched him interact with his wife and son. I should bring Alexis along to take notes. No wonder he managed to survive in the original storyline.

“Scarlet,” Draco whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. They stood near a vibrant peacock that Draco had proudly shown her moments ago. “What did you talk about with my father in the study?”

“Business,” she replied smoothly.

“What kind of business?” he pressed, his curiosity piqued. “You know, I recently found out that most of my family’s wealth comes from renting out lands and assets – and, well, some from organising the black market.”

Scarlet froze for a second before facepalming. “...Did Mr. Malfoy give you permission to casually tell me about the black market?”

“Why not? It’s not like you’d tell anyone,” Draco said with a shrug, his tone entirely matter-of-fact.

Scarlet blinked at him, surprised by his unflinching trust. “Didn’t expect you to have such faith in me. I’m flattered.”

Perhaps that’s what you’d expect from someone whose wand core is unicorn hair, Scarlet thought. But seriously, why does Alexis remember such random trivia so vividly?

“You still haven’t told,” Draco interrupted, his impatience showing. “What did you talk about with my father?”

“Well...” Scarlet paused, quickly brainstorming for an excuse. Then, an idea struck her, “I was thinking about...consulting him on promoting the game table, since he’s the only wealthy person I’ve ever met in the wizarding world.”

Draco frowned, his expression sceptical. “The game made by the Weasleys?”

“Yes,” Scarlet nodded. “I invested in their invention, so I need to make sure it sells well enough to earn a profit. It has potential.”

Draco pouted, his sneer betraying his unwillingness to admit that the game was, in fact, quite entertaining; he wanted to try it himself. “So, what did my father say? I bet he dismissed it outright.”

“He did,” Scarlet said, nodding as she noted his agreement. “He looked rather disgusted at the idea of me associating with the Weasleys.”

Draco gave an exaggerated humph.

“So naturally, I didn’t get any advice from him,” Scarlet continued. “He even told me to avoid them entirely if I wanted a chance at decent revenue from my investment.”

“Which you should,” Draco added with a firm nod. “But I guess you won’t. You really are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

Scarlet responded with nothing more than a wry smile.

They spent the afternoon flying broomsticks. Draco had been sceptical at first about Scarlet’s old, weathered broom at first, but he was quickly astonished by how fast and manoeuvrable it was. They explored the forest, pond, and fields surrounding the Malfoy Manor, even glimpsing the mountains in the distance. Hounds barked in the far reaches of the estate, adding to the grandeur of it all.

And Alexis calls me Bruce Wayne and Ceil Phantomhive, Scarlet thought as she watched the pale-haired boy laugh carefreely in the air. If anyone fits those descriptions, it’s definitely him.

Dinner was a lavish affair, complete with intricate place settings and dishes she’d never seen before. It was also when she finally met Dobby, the Malfoys’ house-elf. The Dobby Alexis kept going on about. Scarlet thought back to Alexis’s passionate defence of the house-elf and how she had convinced Scarlet that Dobby should be saved.

If today had gone as planned, I could’ve negotiated with Lucius Malfoy to stand against the dark wizard. Maybe I could’ve even asked for Dobby as a trade and freed him from servitude. But...things didn’t go that well.

Destroying the diary was a significant victory. Yet, Lucius Malfoy’s stance was more troubling. He had kept his Dark Mark and clearly had no intention of fully aligning himself with either side. He’s playing both fields, Scarlet mused. A classic move to ensure his family’s survival no matter which side wins. And if I fail to prove myself reliable...he wouldn’t hesitate to throw me under the Knight Bus to curry favour with the dark wizard.

The Malfoys were a minefield. One misstep, and they’d turn against her. I won’t misstep, she vowed. Yet, the thought kept her restless. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep until midnight.

Her telephone rang on the nightstand, pulling her from her spiralling thoughts.

“Scarlet,” came Kyle’s voice, calm yet unmistakably concerned. “You’re still awake?”

“...Yeah.” Scarlet pouted, already sensing where this might go. “Look, if you’re calling all the way from Hong Kong just going to scold me for not sleeping, please save your breath. I’ll sleep now.”

Kyle chuckled softly. “Why would I scold you for that? Oh dear Lady Scarlet, would you mind sparing me a few moments of your time? Since you’re not asleep anyway.”

Scarlet sighed but couldn’t help a faint smile. “Sure.”

“So,” Kyle’s tone shifted slightly – gentle but resolute. “Tell me about your meeting with Britain’s old-money wizarding families. What’s going on?”