Chapter 22: Basement

In the dimly lit basement of the castle, Elrond's laboratory and bedroom were nestled. Unlike the well-lit halls of Hogwarts, Selwyn's castle lacked proper lighting, casting shadows that shrouded both upper and underground chambers. Here, the subterranean rooms were no different from their counterparts above, completely devoid of sunlight. Elrond had strategically chosen this location to remain close to his work and, ironically, to keep a certain distance from bothersome individuals.

"Why is your hair so unkempt?" Elrond's discerning gaze fell upon his grandson's rather long hair. "You ought to trim it without delay."

Salim realized the disapproval in his grandfather's tone and replied, "Grandpa, I'm not used to having short hair. I'll cut it, I promise, just not right now."

Elrond gestured to his own well-kept appearance and remarked, "Look at my hair—it's tidy and full of vigour. It's practical for potion-making and combat. You'd be wise to follow suit. Maintain a neat appearance, and you'll stand as tall as I do."

In his previous life, Salim had let his appearance slide for decades. Yet, in this life, would he still perpetuate such a dishevelled image? Absolutely not! Or...perhaps? No, he definitely didn't want that!

"Even if it means sacrificing myself, I, Salim, won't part with my hair! I won't cave in," Salim resolutely vowed to himself.

Determined to defend his hair, Salim prepared to stand his ground against his grandfather. He realized that he needed a strategy, a direct confrontation wasn't the answer.

"Grandpa," Salim began, shifting the topic, "while I'm here, could you tell me more about my sister?"

"I've actually made some progress. It's been quite coincidental. You see, there's a certain family known for having a squib, but they haven't concealed it well. They're not overly concerned about hiding it from the world. My inquiries were met with some success," Elrond replied, guiding Salim towards the inner chamber.

"I won't bore you with the details, but there's a boy from the Orvis family who's about Serena's age and facing a similar situation."

Elrond opened a substantial tome on his workbench, turning to a specific page. With a command to the page, he said, "Give me a swift response."

Observing Salim's curiosity, Elrond chuckled and warned, "Don't even think about it. You'll have to endure living with this weighty tome for a few years."

This book, much like a two-way mirror, served to communicate with others. However, it far surpassed the simplicity of the mirror. While the mirror facilitated one-on-one communication, this book could connect multiple owners, allowing them to share moving images and messages. Yet, this connection relied on the expenditure of magical energy, an expense Salim couldn't currently afford.

"Now, tell me about life at Hogwarts," Elrond prompted, lounging on an armchair by the workbench.

"It's safe to say Hogwarts is preferable," Salim responded, taking a seat as well.

A hint of disappointment crept into Elrond's voice. "Had you not chosen this path for yourself, who knows where you'd be now?"

Elrond had held high hopes for Salim's education at Schuyler. In his eyes, had Salim remained there, he would have surely become an accomplished wizard. Little wizards were rare, and most experienced magical outbursts at the ages of six or seven.

"I couldn't endure it any longer. The Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse were tolerable, given their purpose. But after they marked me, I couldn't simply let it slide. Revenge was necessary," Salim sneered. He had a score to settle with the ones who had left an indelible mark on him.

"I've heard they plan to strike once you graduate. You must prepare diligently," Elrond advised, his tone contemplative. "Remember, if you require assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"On that note, Grandpa, I do have a favour to ask of you." Salim sat upright, his gaze locked onto Elrond's. "This break, I need you to accompany me somewhere—a specific place that holds something important."

Elrond's curiosity was piqued. "And where would that be?"

"Little Hangleton. There's something I must retrieve," Salim responded gravely. His tone held the weight of a profound mission—the retrieval of the Resurrection Stone and Voldemort's Horcrux that had led to Dumbledore's demise.

As mentioned before, Elrond was a curse-breaker, and thus, well-equipped to deal with the curse Voldemort had placed on the Resurrection Stone. While Salim had ostensibly returned for Serena's sake, there was an unspoken urgency—a promise to Snape that needed fulfilling before Elrond left the castle to come March. Salim wouldn't have the same access to him then.

"Old man! Where are you?" The voice of the book resounded, capturing the attention of both Elrond and Salim.

Chuckling, Elrond muttered, "You're as energetic as ever. You were but a child when I discovered you, and now I'm sharing stories of my grandchildren."

Elrond stood up and walked over to the workbench, his eyes locked onto the portrait that had just come to life. "And speaking of grandchildren, here's one now. Come, Salim, introduce yourself."

"Look, here stands my proud grandson, Salim," Elrond declared, holding the entire book aloft so that no one had to lower their gaze.

"Hmph, I've heard of his 'illustrious deeds.' Tell me, lad, how sure are you?" questioned the voice from the page.

"Easy there, you old rascal," Elrond turned to Salim, explaining, "This old rascal is Gilvez. His grandson's predicament mirrors that of Serena. He's here to request your assistance." Elrond stressed the word "request."

"You old codger, why the rush?" Elrond warned Salim. "This old codger's name is Gilvez, and his grandson's situation is similar to Serena's. He's here to ask for your help." Elrond put emphasis on the word "ask."

"Phooey! You old codger, do you really think I'll treat him badly if he manages to fix little Fletcher's problem? You don't have to be so dramatic!" The old man on the page understood it, and he seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Elrond. Like attracts like, you might say. "Boy, you talk!"

"Uh..." Salim hesitated, unsure how to address the old man before him.

"Don't worry, he won't mind what you call him. Just explain the matter clearly," Elrond assured, seeing Salim's uncertainty.

"Alright, Filch... he's the one responsible," Salim finally managed to say.

"I know who he is! Aravito's grandson, the Squib who was cast out by the family," Gilvez interjected brusquely. "Tell me about his condition now. Can he cast spells?"

"I'm not certain... he's in a sort of..." Salim began, only to be interrupted by Gilvez again.

"Not certain!? And you dare say it's a 'success'?" Gilvez's interruption was swift.

"Old man! Give him a chance to speak. If you interrupt my grandson again, I'll 'interrupt' you!" Elrond intervened with a warning from the side.

As the two seemed on the brink of argument, Salim quickly explained, "He doesn't have a wand yet, so I'm unsure if he can perform standard spells. But he does possess magical power. Professor Snape and I can vouch for that." Salim mentioned Snape's name, providing himself with an escape route in case anything went awry.

"When both you and this old man come over, make sure to bring your observation records. Old man, I have matters to attend to now. You and this lad can come to my place tomorrow. We'll settle it then." Elrond responded, and Gilvez unilaterally ended the connection.

"This old geezer! You heard him, we'll be there tomorrow afternoon. Get your things ready," Elrond closed the book in frustration.

"Oh, and before I forget, you should've let your sister know you were here, right? You should find her. I suspect those imbecile Keldor sons have interfered with her. You know how to deal with them," Elrond sensed something amiss and advised Salim.

Without a word, Salim turned and left.

"Since you're back, take this with you!" Elrond tossed an object over.

Salim caught it and affixed it to his robes without even inspecting it. With this, he could bypass most of the magic prohibition in the castle without seeking out house elves.

Keldor is Salim's uncle. His father is Edwin, Elrond's second brother. He also has three sons: Adelaide, Wright, and Lysander. Among these cousins, only Lysander remains friendly. He often urges his elder brothers not to torment Salim, but he frequently becomes the target of their bullying.

As for other peers, Salim is too indifferent to bother remembering their names.

Emerging from the dim basement into the grand hall, Salim was greeted by a scene that prompted him to draw his wand.

"Didn't your charming brother promise to return today? What's this? Has he abandoned you too? Speak up, you little squib!" Adelaide's sharp features and mocking expression betrayed his amusement.

"Brother, that's enough. If she reports us to her grandpa, we're all in trouble!" Lysander attempted a feeble intervention.

"Whose side are you on? Are you really only loyal to her good-for-nothing grandpa? If she has a grandpa, don't we also have one?" Adelaide lifted his chin defiantly, addressing Lysander. He then noticed Salim approaching with his wand.

"Oh~ Long time no see, little brat." Adelaide and Wright also brandished their wands, while Lysander held Serena and steered her aside. He knew what was about to unfold.

"I may not accept your apology, but I'm sure I'll accept your tears!" Salim knew that sibling rivalries could turn into skirmishes, but they must not escalate to serious harm. It was meant to be a lesson, a memorable one.

Adelaide was on the floor, restrained by a binding spell, rendering his arms and legs immobile.

Salim stepped on Adelaide's arse, wand trained on his back. "Curious about the scars on my back, aren't you? How about I grant you one to remember?

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