Chapter 107: Learn the Hard Way (2)

As the August sun began its descent over the picturesque Sandbanks coastline, the grandeur of the mansion perched upon the sandy shores became illuminated by the warm hues of twilight. The sprawling white estate, adorned with detailed carvings and large windows that caught the fading light, stood in elegant contrast to the lush green gardens surrounding it. Stone pathways meandered through the verdant landscape, leading towards the mansion's grand entrance. Tall, swaying palm trees added a touch of exoticism to the scene, their fronds rustling softly in the evening breeze.

At the heart of the yard lay a large swimming pool, its crystal-clear waters inviting guests to take a refreshing dip on that balmy summer evening. The pool was surrounded by marble statues and ornate fountains, adding to the estate's luxurious atmosphere.

As the noble wizards and witches arrived, they were greeted with the tinkling melodies of live music drifting from the expansive veranda overlooking the beach. Waiters clad in crisp white uniforms circulated amongst the crowd, offering trays laden with champagne and canapés. The air was filled with a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and lively conversations.

Marquess Carsilion Egbert sighed audibly, gazing at his half-empty champagne flute as delicate bubbles lazily rose to the surface of the vintage Bollinger. A solitary droplet of moisture traced a meandering path down the smooth exterior of the chilled glass in the hot summer night.

The wizard was dressed in a linen suit the colour of moonlit sand, which hugged his slender frame with understated grace. A crisp, white Egyptian cotton shirt draped softly in the sea breeze, its collar adorned with a subtle touch of azure embroidery, echoing the hue of the aristocrat's captivating sky-blue eyes. The alpenglow made his auburn hair glimmer like molten copper. His posture emitted superiority and boredom as his gaze didn't miss a single detail from his surroundings.

For instance, he keenly felt Lord David Pennington's piercing stare from across the yard. Once a lively summer fling several years back, David, third cousin of Marquess Lovett, revealed his vindictive nature when Carsilion's interest waned. In addition to the extremely graphic and unflattering rumours he had spread about his former lover, David attempted to use Dark Magic in order to accomplish his full-scale revenge. Naturally, that did not work against someone as powerful as the descendant of Egbert the Egregious, but it left a very bitter taste in Carsilion's mouth regarding yet another relationship.

At the foot of the exterior marble staircase, Countess Cordelia Windermere, sister-in-law to Duke O'Dargan, was fanning herself vigorously, talking with a few other ladies who were giggling and occasionally throwing glances in his direction. The Countess had been extremely blunt with Carsilion regarding what she wanted from him during the last time they met. However, while under different circumstances he might have fulfilled her wishes, the wizard couldn't get rid of the vision of the shy smile of Hogwarts' Transfiguration teacher that kept appearing before his eyes. Thus, he harboured very little interest in the curvy, bodacious blond who was biting her full lips seductively while staring at him.

The Marquess swiftly finished the remainder of his champagne. Maintaining his carefree, hedonistic image was not without its pleasant sides. It was a necessary facade to avoid being perceived as a threat and to glean the information he needed, though at times, it proved tiresome. Carsilion couldn't help but yearn for the tranquillity of his quarters at Hogwarts, where he could lose himself in a good book or, even better, spend his evening with Minerva.

'I'm really getting carried away. I need to be careful, or this can end up badly for both of us.' – he thought wearily, focusing once again on the crowd. There was nothing unusual – the same boring people, talking about the same boring stuff, demonstrating their power and wealth, and conspiring against each other. This last aspect was well illustrated by the particularly gloomy atmosphere between Houses Lovett and Whiters. Carsilion knew that Marquess Lovett and Marquess Whiters had some kind of dispute regarding several Occamies the latter owned. Laurence was furious after discovering Tybalt's people had collected the shells of the newly-hatched beasts based on some century-old contract which had supposedly expired long ago. The argument got so heated even the Council needed to intervene in an attempt to settle a quickly escalating conflict between the two Houses. Nevertheless, the members of those two families seemed to particularly avoid each other during the current party.

In addition, Duke Prince arrived, to everyone's surprise, and he was currently talking in a very serious manner with Duke O'Dargan, who appeared rather flushed, which probably meant they were discussing something Raven didn't quite enjoy. Judging from past instances, one would think it was possibly related to the pitiful state of the Academy, for which House O'Dargan was responsible.

Straying from the white building, the wizard casually surveyed his surroundings, attempting to locate Adrian Borealis, with whom, unfortunately, he had to converse. Despite their mutual hatred, they couldn't avoid the necessity of coordination on certain matters. Although Carsilion had relinquished his position as the First Guardian, the commander of the Council's private enforcement force, before assuming his role at Hogwarts, the fact that he had never been formally defeated in a duel posed a problem. The position could not be transferred but only won. The Head of House Borealis was continually seeking someone to replace the Marquess, but all his candidates had proven to be no match for Carsilion, resulting in a significant void in the governing bodies of the aristocrats.

"Now, speaking of the devil…" – a crisp, authoritative voice startled the contemplating aristocrat, who swiftly turned to see Marquess North Redmond standing beside a marble statue of a dancing naked nymph. His sky-blue eyes, eerily reminiscent of Carsilion's, bore into him with unmistakable derision. Suppressing his retort, the Marquess bowed formally to the Head of his House and the second cousin of his late mother.

"My Lord! I'm glad to see you're enjoying the party! Do you need my assistance for anything?"

"Not really." – the Marquess replied with a sardonic grin – "Unfortunately, you've been rather unreliable lately. It's a true waste of your talent, but I suppose we've needed to adjust our expectations since some time ago. Am I wrong, Canopus?"

"Regrettably, you're absolutely correct, My Lord!" – the slender man with his back to the wizards, responded, turning around - ice-cold gaze fixed on his son as his face contorted with a blend of disgust and anger.

Carsilion's heart skipped a beat. He felt his hands started trembling, and he summoned all his willpower to relax his body. Many years after Canopus had thrown him out of his home, he still vividly remembered the sense of desperation when his life had crumbled around him. He lost everything in one night—his family, prospects for the future, and his love. Since then, he had seen his parent only three times, and one of those occasions was when he challenged him to a duel and won the title of First Guardian twelve years ago.

That's why the presence of Baron Egbert caught his son off guard. He was not usually one to attend social functions, and the younger aristocrat wondered what had drawn him out of the woods where his lonely mansion was built.

"I'm utterly surprised Duke McMahon let you off the leash to roam around freely." – hissed the Baron sarcastically, casting a casual glance at the nearby witches and wizards.

Carsilion slowly exhaled. He knew his father was trying to gain the upper hand by throwing him off balance and forcing him to say or do something he didn't intend. It had often worked in the past, but the Marquess was no longer the terrified, sensitive young boy he once was. He donned his most arrogant smile and met the other wizard's gaze directly.

"Good boys deserve rewards, and Duke McMahon knows that perfectly well." – Carsilion purred, enjoying the vein visibly pulsating on his father's temple.

"Don't blame yourself, my friend." – intervened Marquess Redmond – "House McMahon has always been quite adept at manipulating people and getting what they want through any means they could think of—from marrying half-breeds to blackmailing the rest of us with their spawns."

"This is very true, My Lord." – agreed Canopus, a smirk appearing on his thin lips – "They have never been shy about exploiting every possible advantage to gain the upper hand over the rest of us, always playing with people's feelings with stories of their great sacrifices for our well-being. Sadly, there are often gullible, rebellious young people who fall into their nets."

"While other, less gullible old folks prefer to fall only for promises of more money and titles, which never seem to materialise." – remarked Carsilion casually, sporting a wicked smile.

"You know, Marquess Egbert, the Council might continuously turn a blind eye to your twisted lifestyle and total lack of commitment to the position you hold unjustifiably, but be certain that I will not tolerate your insolence much longer." – Marquess Redmond stated, his tone cutting, barely containing his anger – "You may lick Edward McMahon's boots all you want, and the rumour has it, you don't stop there. However, he remains the Head of House McMahon, while you've peaked, regardless of your superb abilities. At the end of the day, you're still one of us."

"Not in my book." – the Baron disagreed sharply, spitting at Carsilion's feet – "I lost my wife because she gave birth to a malevolent, disturbed, and corrupted child devoid of any pride or morals! Years later, that same creature brought disgrace to my home and name, a name he still dares to carry! But the reality is, I have no son!"

With that, the older man turned abruptly and strode toward the house. Marquess Redmond followed, yet not without a sneer of apparent satisfaction curling his lips.

"I believe you'll eventually come to your senses, lad, but be sure to do it before it's too late. Your talents won't save you if you cross the line."

Carsilion stood in silence, watching the departing wizards. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, like a tightly wound cord ready to snap at any moment. The surrounding noise and laughter were driving him insane, and the glaring light stung his eyes. The Marquess swiftly headed towards the darkness of the beach, almost sprinting as he approached the sea. Gasping for breath, he halted at the water's edge, struggling to suppress his tears. It was unbelievable that after all these years, this bastard could still evoke such a profound effect on him. The waves, advancing steadily, signalled the imminent arrival of high tide. Abruptly, they halted mere centimetres from Carsilion, as if meeting an invisible barrier, while he kept staring into their depths.

"I assumed you wouldn't want your new Hardy Amies suit to get wet." – Edward McMahon's amused voice reached Carsilion as his best friend stood next to him, his eyes softly glowing in blue, matching his elegant Thierry Mugler blazer. The Duke's cheerful demeanour quickly faded as he noticed that the other wizard's discontent ran deeper than mere annoyance at being at a party he hadn't wished to attend – "Carter? What's wrong?"

"Nothing much." – answered the Marquess quietly – "I just had the delightful experience of chatting with my father and North Redmond. Those two are a bottomless source of joy and hope, injecting a sense of purpose into an otherwise dull existence."

"I caught sight of your father earlier." – Edward noted with a sigh – "I thought it was not a good sign. But why do you let them get to you so much, Carter? What can they possibly say that you haven't already heard?"

"Actually, nothing new." – admitted Carsilion grimly – "The usual barrage of remarks about how repulsive I am, laced with thinly veiled insinuations about you and me. Then, the familiar tirade on how I've betrayed my family, starting from the day I was born, and my mother died, topped off with a few threats for dessert."

"You'll never learn, brother!" – said the Duke gently, draping an arm around Carsilion's shoulders – "These people do not deserve you and they most certainly are not worthy of the suffering and self-hatred you've experienced and still do to this day."

"I'm fine." – snapped Carsilion, shrugging off his friend's embrace.

"You don't say!" – chuckled Edward – "Are you seriously trying to peddle that dragonshit to me? I know you better than anyone! I can feel you're barely holding yourself together, and I'll be damned if I let you fall apart right before my eyes!"

"Yeah, you still need me to look after your kids." – hissed Carsilion, immediately regretting his words. He looked at the other wizard, who stood there with a sad smile – "I'm sorry, Edd! I didn't mean it. I don't even know why I said such a thing."

"Because you're hurt, and you thought lashing out would make you feel better." – Edward replied calmly. He lifted his hand, and the waves obediently formed beautiful, articulated towers before crashing back into the sea, leaving foam and salty droplets in their wake – "You know, I don't mind it. If it will make you feel better, you can even punch me! I'll take it gladly if it can alleviate some of your pain! But you need to realise, those two arsemongers still control you because you haven't freed yourself from them. You could flee to the ends of the Earth, renounce everything that ties you to House Redmond and the aristocracy, but as long as you don't believe you're a good person who deserves happiness and love, you'll remain under their thumb. All this glamour, these expensive clothes, jewellery, perfumes and cosmetics, confidence that enchants your lovers and admirers—it's all a facade. You're trying to disguise how you really see yourself, a reflection of the hideous image your father planted in your mind!"

"Punching you might not have been such a bad idea." – murmured Carsilion, who, to his own surprise, felt a slight relief as Edward verbalised the tumult of thoughts and feelings swarming his mind.

"Come on, let's go back to the party!" – Edward said with a grin, relieved that he had managed to pull Carsilion from the verge of the darkness threatening to consume him – "I've heard a delightful rumour about the two of us and my wife, so I was looking forward to spicing up their imaginations a bit more!"

"The one about Greg being my son?" – Carsilion asked with a hint of interest as they walked back toward the noise of the party.

"No, the one about Louisa using her Veela powers to ensure I fulfil my marital duties, which otherwise I couldn't, due to being smitten with you!" – the Duke replied with a mischievous chuckle, giving his friend's tight bottom a playful smack.

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon, Edd!" – Carsilion smirked as they entered the pool of light, drawing some questioning glances.

"I'm not overly worried, considering your thoughts are fully occupied by a certain dark-haired witch with a charming Scottish accent." – the blond wizard winked at the Marquess, whose face turned an uncharacteristic shade of red.

"I can only afford to have my thoughts occupied by your brats, Your Grace! Speaking of which, I see Greg's caught up in an argument with Borealis' younger son. I'll go save him. That boy is a complete jerk, just like his father! Let's meet tomorrow evening at the usual place? And be careful with these rumour-stirring antics of yours. Your wife is not entertained by them in the slightest, and I've had more than enough trouble with her lately. See you!"

Edward watched Carsilion hurry toward a group of teenagers at the edge of the swimming pool and couldn't suppress his amused smile. He wasn't worried about his son; Greg was perfectly capable of defending himself in every sense of the word and studying at Hogwarts had kept him grounded and humble, unlike many of his peers who attended the Academy.

'Carsilion, on the other hand, is completely incapable of recognising he's in love with that Minerva he keeps talking about every time we meet.' – Edward mused as he headed in the opposite direction, suddenly compelled to hug his wife.