bacchusnovels Chapter 272 One and a Half Years Later
Chapter 272 One and a Half Years Later
Chapter 272 One and a Half Years Later
A year and a half later.
Bristol, England.
A manor house in Bristol remains as tranquil as ever.
The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves of the tall oak trees, dappling the lawn. In the distance, the lake shimmered, and a gentle breeze swept across the water, bringing a refreshing coolness.
The manor is surrounded by lush green bushes, and the roses in the garden are in full bloom, emitting a faint fragrance.
Not far away, several people sat around a long table, their laughter drifting in from time to time on the breeze.
Those were several maids enjoying a short break.
They were dressed in neat maid uniforms, their snow-white aprons gleaming brightly in the sunlight.
The black dress accentuated her youthful figure, and the hem swayed gently, exuding a playful vitality.
Each person's face radiated youthful energy, and the sunlight shining on their rosy cheeks made them even more beautiful.
"Mr. Phillips is so handsome." A young maid gently rested her chin on her hand, her eyes soft, with a hint of girlish shyness and longing.
She held a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand, with Phillips's picture prominently displayed on it. He was smiling in the photo, his handsome face seemingly shining through the newspaper. Lucy unconsciously fell into a fascination with this young man.
Her fair hands traced lightly across the table, as if sketching a beautiful vision of the future in her mind. A slight smile played on her lips, as if she were already immersed in a beautiful romantic story. "Don't you think? His eyes are like the deep night sky, mysterious and full of power."
The maid sitting opposite her, however, was unimpressed, shaking her head slightly with a disdainful smile on her lips.
"Phillips?" She slowly adjusted her white apron, the black maid outfit making her figure appear even more slender, mature and capable.
She looked up. "Lucy, Mr. Hack is much more charming. His calm and confident demeanor is something that young men like Phillips can't match."
“Mr. Harker certainly has his charm, Margaret,” another maid interjected, tidying up the vases on the table with a subtle yet teasing smile. “But don’t forget, he’s past his most charming years; he’s middle-aged now.”
"So what if you're middle-aged? That's called maturity," Margaret said calmly, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Look at them..."
The steadiness with which Mr. Huck walked, the certainty in his voice—he understood how to control a situation better than Phillips. Young Phillips might be captivating, but it was Mr. Huck who truly gave you a sense of security.
Lucy pursed her lips, a hint of defiance in her eyes: "But what about the energy and passion Phillips brings? He always makes you feel that life is full of possibilities, that youthful energy, doesn't it excite you?"
Kate smiled and shook her head: "Oh, darling, I think we might be talking about two completely different kinds of charm."
One is the youthful energy that makes your heart race instantly, while the other is a profound strength honed by time.
The group chatted amongst themselves, the sunlight still shining on them, along with the Daily Prophet, which they had long forgotten on the table.
It was clearly written above:
Sean Phillips has been appointed as a senior advisor to the Minister for Magic.
Looking at the headline in the Daily Prophet, Sean, who was lying on the sofa in the manor reading the newspaper and drinking red tea, sighed deeply.
time flies.
The past year and a half seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye for him.
However, the hardships he endured during this period are beyond the comprehension of outsiders.
Overall, in the past year and a half, he successfully made some potions using the potion recipes he had, and then used them on the Squibs he had bought.
The maids outside are the best proof of that.
Each of them was once a Squib who had lost her magic and been abandoned by society, but now, under Sean's tutelage and the effects of his potions, she has become his most loyal and capable servant.
For them, Sean, who rescued them and gave them a new life, was the sun.
However, Sean just wasn't used to driving a Maybach.
Sean's influence has quietly spread throughout Britain.
These Squibs, whom he had modified, trained, and completely controlled, formed an invisible net that covered every corner of Britain. From servants on manor houses to covert intelligence agents, and then to low-profile assistants in the business world and wizarding society, Sean's men had penetrated into every industry.
These people, once abandoned, are now under his control and have become powerful tools for him to expand his power.
Each Squib's mission was extremely precise—they were sent to different locations in the wizarding world and the Muggle world to carry out various tasks assigned by Sean.
Some infiltrated important magical families to monitor the movements of key figures; others operated as ordinary citizens in Muggle society, gathering intelligence or conducting discreet business operations to accumulate wealth and resources for Shaun's future feats.
Sean has loyal servants hidden in the shadows in every major city and country of England. London's Magic Shopping Street...
His duds lurk in remote Scottish villages.
They are no longer discarded duds, but precise pieces he has trained, ready to serve him at any time.
It's no exaggeration to say that if Sean wanted to know what color panties Narcissa would wear tonight, he could find out as soon as she finished showering and changing.
So, this is all the effort he's put in over the past year and a half. Sounds concise, doesn't it? That's often how people are.
An achievement that can be summarized in a few words is backed by countless struggles and trials.
Some people, after a lifetime of hard work, can leave behind only a short passage or a single sentence.
For example, the book Sean recently acquired from the north.
The book's title page prominently features an introduction to a man: the leader of the October Revolution, a great proletarian revolutionary fighter.
Getting back to the main point, when Sean looked at the front page of the Daily Prophet, he knew what he needed to do that night.
That means stealing your own magic wand.
"Time to get busy," Sean muttered to himself, his gaze lingering on the shapely witches outside the window before turning to Ayers, who was waiting quietly, and giving him instructions in a low voice.
"Ayers, there's something I need you to do tonight."
Ayers stood to the side, and upon hearing Sean's command, immediately straightened up, his face devoid of any superfluous expression, only showing caution and respect.
Over the past two years, he has become accustomed to obedience, especially in front of Sean, where any questioning could have terrible consequences.
Sean folded the Daily Prophet and placed it aside. He slowly stood up, walked to Ayers, and whispered his instructions.
"Sir—you mean—destroy the black market and kill all the slave traders?" Ayers asked cautiously, his voice trembling slightly.
"I no longer need their supply channels. The black market is meaningless to me." Sean gave him a cold, unwavering look, his gaze devoid of any wavering or pity. "As for those slave traders who once sold them, not a single one can be spared. I want them to take their own revenge and end it all with their own hands."
"My lord—" Ayers swallowed hard and replied in a low voice, "I understand. I will certainly carry out your orders. But are you sure this won't attract too much attention?"
Sean's gaze sharpened, his tone carrying an undeniable authority, "You don't need to worry about that. I have my own arrangements. Your task is to ensure that every slave trader pays the price, and that the Squibs deal with them personally."
"My lord, I will carry out your orders." Ayers bowed his head, his tone respectful yet firm, concealing the turmoil in his heart.
As he bowed deeply and turned to leave, Sean's voice rang out again.
"Wait a minute, there's something else I need you to do..."
19 Privet Road, Little Huigkin, Surrey, England.
This ordinary and quiet alleyway appears exceptionally peaceful under the cover of night.
Everything here seems ordinary and unremarkable, no different from countless suburban residential areas in England.
The streets were deserted at night, save for the occasional rustling of a gentle breeze through the windows.
It was extremely quiet.
Sean stood in front of house number 19, his gaze cold and his expression calm.
He hasn't been back to this house in a long time.
He reached out, gripped the wand tightly, and uttered a silent spell.
The power of the spell, like an invisible breeze, quietly drifted into the house, passed through the air, permeated the bedroom, and directly affected the past self.
Then, Sean flew to the second floor and, through the slightly ajar window, could see himself lying in the study, his body visibly relaxed, his breathing becoming more even and slow, clearly having fallen into a very deep sleep.
"Perfect." Sean gave himself a mental thumbs up.
Sean reaffirmed his plan, then lightly pushed open the door to the second floor and silently entered the room.
The layout of the house was all too familiar to him; even the floor beneath his feet remained unchanged, down to every loose spot.
He felt nostalgic without realizing it, but Wen quickly regained his composure.
His footsteps echoed through the narrow corridor, the familiar wooden staircase creaking softly, but this had no effect on his past self, who was already deep in sleep.
Sean walked to the study door, his gaze sweeping over the faint light shining through the crack in the door.
He took a deep breath, gently pushed open the door, and his gaze immediately locked onto the briefcase in the corner.
The old briefcase blended seamlessly with the surrounding books and documents, appearing inconspicuous, but only Sean knew its true nature.
What's hidden inside?
Sean walked over quietly, took the wand out of his briefcase, and hid it under his coat.
Then they quickly arranged the scene to make it look like it had been looted.
After doing all this, Sean's gaze couldn't help but fall on his past self again.
He was still slumped over his desk, fast asleep. His handwriting on the open notebook on the desk was messy and hurried.
His gaze swept over the handwriting, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he saw a reflection of himself once trapped in hardship but determined to change his fate. A moment later, Sean quickly regained his composure, his eyes turning cold once more.
After confirming everything was in order, Sean straightened up, his gaze sweeping over every corner of the room one last time to make sure no trace was left. He turned and walked towards the door, his steps still as light as a shadow. The door closed slowly, making a barely audible sound.
After stepping out of the house, Sean stood in the quiet courtyard, the moonlight shining on his cloak, giving him a mysterious glow.
His mission was accomplished, and the wand was back in his hand.
After whispering the incantation, Sean's figure vanished into the night in an instant.