Paradise Found | Hogwarts Legacy Love Story

Magizoology Tip #1

Magizoology Tip #1

Diamonds aren't a girl's best friend. It's cleaning spells and goats.

Beatrice carefully navigated not getting any blood on her lab coat. It was unfortunate that this goat had become her ticket to success, but the poor thing had passed away from natural causes, and she was friends with the farmer. She typically made house trips as a side income to fuel her research. Becoming a Magizoologist was her dream. An expensive one.

Finding a common antidote for poisons was also her dream. Another expensive one.

"It says here that in the 18th century, there was a French healer by the name of Videl Tristesse didn't believe that it was possible for any sort of bezoar to cure the effects of any poison. An Azkaban prisoner from Britain was sentenced to death and chose to be poisoned rather than given a Dementor's Kiss with the sole condition that he would be given a bezoar after the poison. Tristesse administered the bezoar, but there was no effect. The prisoner died a painful death seven hours after administration therefore proving that bezoars can't cure even the most common poison." Her associate reflected in a dry tone.

Esmond Oakes, despite his position as a senior researcher and one of the most eligible bachelors in the downtown metropolitan area of Washington D.C. was for... Lack of better words... An interesting character.

Using her scalpel, Beatrice made a precise incision on the lower abdomen of the goat where she could feel a series of small stone-like objects. It was a bit rare for any animal to have bezoars, never mind multiple. These mass intrusions found in the goat's gastrointestinal system would allow her the opportunity to prove her research had credit.

"His first name is 'devil' rearranged and his last name translates into 'deep melancholy.'" Beatrice pointed out softly, but firm. "There were also suspicions that the 'bezoar' wasn't actually a bezoar at all, but dung clumped together to look like one."

Esmond was careful to be standing a few feet back. Merlin forbid he get a speck of blood on his otherwise pristine lab coat or his slicked back raven hair. "It all seems like a waste of time."

A normal reaction would involve annoyance or maybe a glare. Beatrice brushed it off with nothing more than a hum of acknowledgement. Hearing someone call your life's work a waste of time wasn't exactly serotonin induing. Neither was referring to organic stones in a goat's body as your life's work when you're only 24.

But if she was right, this could not only help to save people-but she'd also win the annual researcher's grant from Congress at tomorrow's presentation in the Capital. That grant could help fund her research on a commercial level and give her the opportunity to move far away.

Far from the East Coast.

Far from the Clarke Estate.

"You know what doesn't sound like a waste of time?" Esmond continued, preferring to hear himself talk now and not the sound of goat entrails plopping onto the sterile desk. "Going on a date with me tomorrow."

Beatrice grimaced, more focused on the Kocher clamps she'd positioned to stop excess blood from pouring through. The goat had been dead for a few hours and she'd already been victim to having to clean up after it emptied its bladder all over the shared lab space.

"I'm not interested in dating anyone right now." She navigated rejecting him for the 100th time like she grabbed the stones from the goat's body: effortlessly and precise. "My-"