Man of Archives

Chapter 42

The morning greeted me with a pleasant, gentle weakness throughout my body. Waves of satisfaction spread lazily. I looked down to see Maggie, diligently working with her mouth. Squinting with pleasure, I allowed the lingering drowsiness to dissipate, spilling it into her waiting lips.

Meanwhile, Tamara had prepared a wonderful breakfast, which the three of us ate with great enthusiasm.

"Well then," I began. "I want you two to start a business for personal matters. I'll be your investor. Tamara, Maggie, the rest is up to you."

"In what direction should we work?" Maggie asked, clearly excited by my suggestion.

"You can decide for yourselves," I nodded. Honestly, I had no desire to dwell on it for long. Why do I even need this? It's simple... it's all about status. Gaining influence over wizards is easy, but preventing non-wizards from being influenced by others is like laying a foundation. It may seem trivial, but as they say, appearances are more valuable than money. Just let me know the initial investment you'll need."

"We'll do that," Maggie nodded. "Don't worry, we'll definitely come up with something interesting."

"Perfect."

Back home, I returned to working on Panacea, which had just reached a critical stage. I prepared a vial with the necessary treatment and locked it in a small, well-protected safe. It was shielded from external influences and designed to prevent any magical emanations from escaping. Naturally, I hadn't told anyone about this—not even the Grangers—but someone could still discover what they needed.

In short, serious precautions were taken.

Arriving at the Grangers' home, I cloaked myself in spells, carefully watching for any suspicious activity. But there was nothing. Satisfied, I approached and knocked on the door.

The door opened almost immediately, and I was invited inside. Hermione's parents looked visibly anxious. It was clear not only from their expressions but also from the tension in their emotions and thoughts. Hermione's condition seemed to have worsened.

"How is she?" I asked.

"She's gotten worse," Mr. Granger said. "I took her to the hospital, but they couldn't tell us anything..."

"They wouldn't have been able to," I said with a shrug.

"Are you sure you can help her?" Mrs. Granger asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Come," I said.

We entered Hermione's room. She looked unwell—pale, with dark circles under her eyes and a slight tremor. When she saw me, a flicker of joy and a hint of pleading crossed her face. Her weakness left her unable to speak, and I had no intention of forcing her to try in such a state.

"Have you prepared everything I asked for?" I inquired of the Grangers.

"Yes," Mr. Granger nodded.

"Good. When I give the signal, start bringing it in."

They both nodded, their faith in my abilities palpable. The way it stroked my magical senses was an intriguing feeling—one I would analyze later.

"Alright, Hermione," I said, shaking the vial gently. "I'm going to pour this medicine into your mouth now. You need to swallow it and then close your eyes. Changes will begin immediately, and soon after, you'll feel hungry. No matter what happens, don't open your eyes. Do you understand?"

She nodded weakly.

"Now you," I said, turning to her parents. "Hermione will undergo various changes. If it becomes too much for you, I can put you to sleep. It's better if you leave the room and just bring in the food."