Marvel: Trading with Worlds

Before long, male students began to approach Hermione. Now that her beauty had become the talk of the evening, they weren't about to miss their chance. 

Yet, like Kain, Hermione declined every invitation with quiet politeness.

As the evening progressed, Hermione tugged on Kain's sleeve and pleaded, "Godfather, let's dance again before the night ends."

Kain couldn't refuse her request, and they returned to the dance floor for one last waltz. 

By the time the music ended, students were beginning to leave the Great Hall, stepping outside to enjoy the fresh air. Staying inside for hours had made the room feel stuffy and oppressive.

After the dance, Kain escorted Hermione back to the Gryffindor Tower before heading toward his office. 

His mind was already preoccupied with plans for the evening. He intended to experiment further with creating a self-sustaining source of magical power—perhaps even one capable of reshaping and evolving on its own.

This idea came from a hypothesis he'd found in one of Nicolas Flamel's old notes. Kain had already read about a third of Flamel's texts, and the knowledge he'd gained so far was vast. 

His current level of alchemy rivaled the very best in the magical world. In terms of the success rate for creating alchemical artifacts, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him the best. 

After all, in his later years, Flamel's declining energy prevented him from sustaining the same level of focus and productivity.

As Kain approached his office, he noticed someone following him. He paused at the door and turned to see Fleur Delacour standing there in an elegant evening gown.

"You should be enjoying the party," Kain said coldly. "Instead of wasting your time on me. I've warned you more than once, Ms. Delacour."

Had she been a student at Hogwarts, Kain would have given her a stern punishment—perhaps a late-night visit to the Forbidden Forest—for disturbing a professor at work.

"Tonight, I only wish to share a dessert from my family's recipe, Professor Pent," Fleur said softly, lowering her gaze. "You might like it. I spent half a day making it. Delacour desserts are famous in the French wizarding world."

Her voice was delicate, her tone humble. Fleur knew this was her final chance. With all the groundwork she'd laid beforehand, her chances of success tonight should have been high. 

She had even resorted to preparing a love potion, though she knew it was illegal.

But what choice did she have? She was desperate.

The stakes were high—hundreds of thousands of Galleons, not just a few thousand or even tens of thousands.

"If your father hadn't let greed get the better of him, you wouldn't be in this mess," Kain said flatly. "Greed always comes at a price. If you want to redeem yourself, wait until this matter is settled. Perhaps then, you'll still have a chance."

After Kain finished speaking, he opened the door and stepped inside. Noticing he hadn't explicitly dismissed her, Fleur quickly followed, slipping into the room just before the door closed.

Once inside, Fleur placed the dessert—laced with a love potion—on the table. Lowering her gaze, she asked softly, "Professor, do you know what the third task entails? Madame Maxime seemed furious when she mentioned it."

"The third task is being organized by the Ministry of Magic," Kain replied. "They can change it at any time, even two days before it begins.

"It seems you've already learned about the second task. Instead of worrying about the third, shouldn't you be practicing? Or has Beauxbatons decided to give up on the Triwizard Tournament altogether? And, as per the rules, I can't tell you anything about the competition. Frankly, I don't care much about it."

Kain frowned slightly as he observed Fleur. Her demeanor was becoming increasingly self-assured, almost overly familiar.

"Of course not," Fleur responded quickly. "We have our strategies ready." She then pushed the dessert toward him, her expression demure.

The dessert was enticing, exuding a faint rose fragrance mixed with the sweetness of honey. It was visually appealing, almost too perfect. 

Kain picked up a piece and tasted it. The flavor was pleasant, but something felt off.

Thanks to his unique physiology—a combination of a phoenix, a unicorn, and the Extremis virus—Kain had an extraordinary resistance to toxins and poisons. 

Any harmful substance he ingested would be broken down into harmless molecules and expelled from his body.

However, enchantments like love potions worked differently. While they didn't harm the body, they affected the mind and nervous system. 

The Extremis virus could repair any neural abnormalities caused by such substances through bioelectricity, neutralizing their effects. Still, some remnants lingered—primitive impulses that Kain could suppress with effort.

He hadn't expected Fleur Delacour to have the audacity to drug him, let alone with a love potion. For a brief moment before the potion's effects dissipated, his thoughts had been filled with Fleur's image. 

But as the Extremis virus nearly eliminated the enchantment, Kain regained his composure.

"Professor Pent," Fleur began, her tone soft and imploring. "Can you help me? I need you to cancel the magical trade contract with the Delacour family."

Kain leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "That's a very complex process. It would require involving the International Trade Standards Association of both Ministries of Magic. The timing would be tricky—perhaps even impossible."

Fleur's confidence faltered. The potion should have worked by now. Why hadn't he agreed to her request? Was the dose too small? Or was Kain Pent's resistance to enchantments simply too strong?

This man, after all, was no ordinary wizard. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, the same one who had single-handedly defeated over twenty Death Eaters. 

His extraordinary magical power must have shielded him from the potion's effects.

Fleur's mind raced. She was running out of time. If anyone at Hogwarts—especially Dumbledore—discovered what she had done, it would spell disaster. Desperate, she made a bold move.

….

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