Before she could respond, Alex flicked his wrist, and Dolores was hurled forward. She hit the ground hard, sprawling in an undignified heap. Alex turned away, his posture as casual as if nothing had happened. He settled back into his chair, picked up his glass, and took a leisurely sip of his drink, ignoring her entirely.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said offhandedly, not even bothering to glance in her direction. "Remind her that the 'key' is with me."
Dolores glared at him, her face twisted in a mix of hatred and fear, before scrambling to her feet and storming out of the room. After Dolores's hasty exit, Alex leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the tension of the encounter fade. It wasn't long before the knock he'd been expecting came. This time, the visitor didn't barge in. Instead, an elegant woman stepped into the room, exuding an aura of confidence and sophistication.
Yulia Travers carried herself with the poised grace of someone who had spent her life navigating high society. Her long, light blonde hair was meticulously styled, and her flawless complexion showed no sign of stress or age. Despite her composed exterior, Alex could see the flickers of unease in her eyes.
Yulia's mind raced as she entered. Dolores's frantic report about the "key" had sent her reeling. What was Alex talking about? The real key couldn't possibly have been discovered—it was hidden too carefully, far from where the incident had occurred. Yet his confidence unsettled her. Did he really know more than she'd assumed? Could he have somehow pieced things together?
She moved gracefully to the sofa opposite Alex and sat down, her every movement deliberate. Her smile was charming but calculated, her eyes assessing the young man before her. She didn't speak immediately, letting the silence stretch, as though daring him to reveal his hand first.
Alex, unfazed, took another sip of his drink, meeting her gaze with a calm, almost lazy confidence. He knew he held all the cards. The silence lingered until Yulia, unable to suppress her curiosity and irritation, broke it. "Mr. Wilson," she began, her tone pleasant yet sharp, "I heard you wished to see me. Well, here I am. Is there something you'd like to say?"
Alex set his glass down gently, leaning forward slightly. "First," he said, his tone casual, "I didn't call for you. You came here because you wanted something from me. Second, I don't have anything to say. You, on the other hand…" He leaned back again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the one with the problem. I'm the only person who can solve it."
Yulia's smile faltered for the briefest moment. 'Troublesome boy.' She had hoped to steer the conversation in her favor, to probe him for information before committing to anything. But Alex wasn't playing along. He wasn't giving her an inch. "You've certainly made things… interesting," Yulia said smoothly, trying to regain control of the conversation. "But I'm curious—what exactly do you think I need from you?"
"Oh, don't play coy, Ms. Travers," Alex said, his voice dropping slightly, adding an edge to his words. "You wouldn't be here if your little schemes hadn't hit a dead end. Moody's got Torquil locked up tight, and your family's reputation is already on shaky ground. You've tried everything else, and now you're here—grasping at straws."
"Oh, so bold of you to offer to solve our troubles. 'We'? I'm not sure what troubles you think we're facing. Perhaps Mr. Wilson can enlighten me?" Yulia's sharp tone made it clear she wasn't buying into Alex's proposition. Her gaze was steady, calculating.
Alex leaned back, smirking slightly. He could see right through her act. A classic politician's face—smooth words that danced around the point without ever saying anything meaningful. He wasn't about to waste energy arguing with her over it.
"It's simple," Alex began, swirling the glass of liquor in his hand. The sound of the ice clinking against the glass was oddly rhythmic, almost hypnotic. "The Wizengamot seat. The fate of your Travers family. Surely you don't think those things aren't troublesome?"
Yulia raised an eyebrow, her expression guarded. "Oh? Why do your words sound so deep, yet I understand so little of them?"
Alex chuckled, his tone laced with mockery. "If you can't grasp something so simple, maybe you should have your head checked. But surely, you understand the meaning of 'key,' don't you?"
Yulia's calm exterior cracked for just a moment, but she quickly masked her unease. "Key? Are you talking about a Portkey, or perhaps the kind that unlocks a physical lock?" she asked, feigning nonchalance.
Alex's eyes glinted with amusement. "You're remarkably stubborn, aren't you? Fine, let me clarify." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brass key, holding it up just enough for the light to catch its intricate design. "The key to the vault." His words were slow, deliberate, and carried a weight that hit like a hammer.
Yulia's carefully crafted composure shattered as her eyes locked onto the key. Her body leaned forward involuntarily, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. Her fingers dug into the armrest of her chair so hard that her nails bit into the fabric. 'How is that key in his hands?' Panic surged through her mind. 'Was Torquil stupid enough to carry it with him?' Her hand instinctively moved toward her left hip, where her wand was hidden.
But she hesitated. Alex had already withdrawn the key and was now watching her with a knowing, almost mocking smile. The risk was too great. He was clearly expecting her to make a move. Even if she managed to snatch the key, she couldn't be sure he hadn't already discovered its true significance.
With a deep breath, Yulia forced herself to relax, plastering a smile back onto her face. "Ah, so that's the key? If I recall, I gave it to Torquil as a birthday gift. A key to an empty vault, if I'm not mistaken. Did you find that while rummaging through his things? Defeating him doesn't mean you can go looting his property, Mr. Wilson."
"Oh?" Alex raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "An empty vault, you say? Funny, because what I saw in Torquil's memory, protected by the Slytherin Protection Charm, tells a very different story. And who said I found this key on him? Speaking of which, the Travers family vault has quite the security, doesn't it? It took me a fair amount of effort to crack it open."
Yulia's face blanched. Her calm demeanor gave way to shock as she shot up from her seat, her breathing quick and uneven. 'He knows!' she realized in horror. 'He knows about the ward, the vault, the safe house… He even knows what's inside!'
"What do you want?" Yulia asked, abandoning any pretense of control. There was no point in playing coy anymore. If Alex hadn't handed over the key outright, it meant he had demands. And if he had demands, that meant there was room to negotiate.
Alex stood as well, towering over her. His smirk widened, predatory. "Are you forgetting already? I believe I made myself perfectly clear—one hundred thousand Galleons." He enunciated each word, his voice cold and sharp as a blade.