Shell Cottage felt like her only home.
Whenever she went there, which was quite often, she would sit alone on the terrace and simply watch the burly sea cast wave after wave on the shore.
She would not get up until night fall. And she would never get tired or bored.
Her mother had tried to tell her that she had a different home now, but she had never grown used to the idea that she would be away from the sea...and Shell Cottage.
She liked visiting in August best, when the weather was just right and the wind was mild. She would come with her sister, Dominique, or one of her many French cousins and stayed there for weeks on end. Sometimes her French grandmother would join, but rarely her father or mother.
She had grown used to her solitude there, because it could not be said her cousins offered valuable companionship. And she enjoyed living there quietly, without the noise of the outside world, listening to the sounds of nature and the soft rustle of book pages.
It was odd and entrancing watching Victoire become another person at Shell Cottage.
For the rest of the year, she was as vibrant and vivacious as any sixteen year old would be. She smiled and laughed through anything and nothing ever put her down. She was constantly speaking, constantly moving.
But here, she stepped into the shoes of her old self and became someone else.
It was her rest, the quiet before the storm of the following year.
It was thus crucial for her peace not to be disturbed, here at Shell Cottage.
"Vivienne, I told you, I can't allow this."
"Je te supplie*, Victoire, I 'ave never seen 'im! Please, it iz Dobby, after all, n'est-ce pas?"
"Je m'en fiche, Viviene. It is still awful to exhume someone, en particulier un héros," Victoire commented appalled.
"I only want to pay my respects, I swear," Vivienne sniffed in affectation.
"You can do that without taking a look at his bones!" Victoire snapped, losing her patience.
The two cousins had been having this argument all morning. Vivienne, one of her more curious and fanatic relatives, bent on finding out as much as was possible about the Second War and its brave heroes, had made it her task to seek out Dobby, the famous elf saviour, or rather, his remains, in person.
She claimed it was her right as a blood kin. She, Victoire discovered quickly, had been a terrible mistake to bring here.
Now the young girl was regretting her decision and wanted to find a suitable pretext to get rid of her as soon as possible.
She knew Vivienne would not cease talking about it very soon, though. She was incorrigibly stubborn.
She thought that lying would solve the issue at hand. If Vivienne wanted to dig up a grave so badly, she would find a way to make it work without actually desecrating Dobby's resting place.
The following night, after a particularly tiresome rant, Vivienne finally got what she wanted.
"All right! Enough! We'll go tonight if you are so adamant!" Victoire said.
"Oh, that is wonderful news, Vicky!"
"But I must tell you first where Dobby is really buried," Victoire said, smiling slyly.
Victoire had led her to the back of the house, up on one of the small hills and down its sandy valley whereupon she thought would be a good place to invent the actual burial ground.
She saw a beautiful wild, blue flower growing in the centre of a thorn bush and thought that it looked perfect.
"There, underneath that flower."
Vivienne did not seem convinced at first.
"Il n'a pas de sens! Why would it be here? Why not at the tombstone?"
"You think Harry Potter would have let the Death Eaters know where the elf was buried? Dobby was a powerful, noble creature. This was the elf that had attacked both Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry Potter had to hide his true resting place, in his honour."
Vivienne didn't seem convinced at first, but as Victoire kept talking about the dark days of war and the constant need for secrecy, she slowly began to grow impatient and curious until the idea started making sense in her head.
She felt proud and important to be able to witness Dobby's real grave. She felt she was one of the selected few who would enjoy this honour.
Victoire sighed in disgust as Vivienne started to dig happily, all the while mumbling to herself about the importance of the event.
She felt embarrassed and stupid for taking part in such a farce, but she did not want to have Vivienne on her back anymore and this was the closest she could get, without breaking ties.
After ten minutes of awkward silence, Vivienne made a strange sound of surprise.
"Victoire, I believe I found it!" she exclaimed in excitement.
Victoire drew closer to her, ready for her cousin's disappointment at having found some ancient rock instead.
"This iz...étrange," Vivienne mumbled. "Verre..."
Victoire frowned in confusion.
"Glass?"
"Et une chaîne en argent aussi..." Vivienne mumbled in awe.
"What are you talking about?" Victoire asked impatiently, pulling her aside.
She looked down at the small hole her cousin had made.
And to her great surprise she too saw the glass and the chain. A soft tremor shook her hand.
She curled her fingers around the chain and pulled it up slowly.
"What in the world...?"
A strange, silvery necklace was dangling in front of her face. It was in the shape of an hourglass, trapped inside a golden circle. There was sand inside the hourglass.
It sparkled like a jewel in the dark, blue night air.
"Mon Dieu, iz this what 'arry Potter buried in 'ere?" Vivienne asked in shock.
"It...it can't be though," Victoire said, staring at it mesmerised. "Time-Turners are illegal."
"Then...what iz it doing there? Was it...Dobby's?" Vivienne asked concerned.
"I don't think so. I have no idea..."
" 'ouse elves and Time-Turners...ça ne marche pas," Vivienne mumbled, folding her hands in apprehension.
"I know. I don't understand," Victoire replied.
"I am going to call papa by floo. Papa will know what to do about this," Vivienne said, getting up and running hastily towards the cottage.
"Wait, Vivienne!" Victoire called after her, but it was too late. The girl was already inside.
Victoire touched the hourglass. She turned it around, inspecting it carefully.
It did not look broken or otherwise dented, but it was clear that it had been there for a while. It looked as ancient as the sea.
As her fingers brushed over the surface in wonder, she felt a weak vibration in the glass. She thought that maybe it was the strong wind, but as the vibration got stronger and stronger, Victoire watched in amazement as the hourglass suddenly broke in half and small grains of sand started spilling through the crack.
Victoire jumped up in fear, but once again, it was too late.
The last thing she saw was the dark blue flower and then it was as if the sea had engulfed her.
*Translation:
Je te supplie - I beg of you
N'est-ce pas? - Isn't it?
Je m'en fiche - I don't care
en particulier un héros - especially a hero
Il n'a pas de sense - It makes no sense
étrange - strange
verre - glass
Et une chaîne en argent aussi - And a silver chain too
c'est absurde - it is absurd
ça ne marche pas - that does not work