The toys belong to J.K. Rowling and Notwolf, and I am grateful to be able to play with them. I hope you will like what you read!
January in Britain was not exactly a comfy month. Augusta looked again over the dismal picture – thin fog was crawling among the bare branches, the wind was howling and the entire landscape was looking brown. She looked again at the colorful muggle postcard her friend Lavignia had sent her. On it Monaco was glowing in the night like a thousand diamonds crown against the black sky. The letter was as cheerful as Lavignia had ever been.
"My dearest Augusta,
As you know, we had fabulous vintage this year and the wine was abundant and went for a very right price. Sure it was a lot of work as good wine needs a lot of hands but the results are spectacular. As a token of appreciation Ambroise is taking me for an extended cruise over the Mediterranean. The old Bathtub had been spruced, the elves are ecstatic and it is fully loaded for a three months long escape. Would you like to join us? We may pick you up at Dover on the fifth of January. It will not be a problem at all as we are going to pick up my darling father-in-law. Monsieur Germain was spending Christmas with some of his old cronies as he calls them (and they are really old, and some are not even alive as far as I manage to keep tab on them, but in their club death is not a problem that spoils a good game of poker!) He was thinking of visiting some other old hunting grounds and we will probably drop for few days in Bulgaria as there are some veilas he fondly remembers. Since Madame Genevieve died years ago Monsieur Germain's memory about veilas has dramatically improved. So sad that this is almost the only part of his memory which is completely intact, as well as his winemaking skills. Oh, and of course he is still a charming story teller, especially if there is an eager audience.
Please my dearest, do consider this opportunity! I hope Neville will be able to join you as we positively need someone young to charm the sirens! Ambroise says he is tired of them luring him every year. Who knows, may be we will be able to find him a beautiful Eunice somewhere along these Greek islands, but don't tell him or he will run away before we even get you on board."
Lavignia was Augusta's classmate from Hogwarts who spent her last semester in Beauxbatons. There the pale English Rose charmed the dark Arles pirate Ambroise de Vigneaut. Not long after she changed forever the Misty Albion for the perpetually sunny South of France. Her parents-in-law were smitten by her accent that they found charming beyond belief, by the ladylike pattern of her hats and gloves and the genuine love between the young couple at the first place. When this love resulted in six new de Vigneauts who were taught to ride before they learned to walk properly and could wave a spell in three languages before they all went to Beauxbatons – the position of Lavignia was cemented better than the papal palace in Arles. She loved parties – so the chateau partied with gusto, she loved roses, so her in-laws' elves had gone high and lo to find exquisite sorts for the formal English Garden, she loved sailing, so Monsieur Germain procured a real pirate ship and polished it to look like the Flying Dutchman. She called it the Bathtub and all the family spent the winter months sailing the hot seas while the winter was singing lullaby to their extensive vineyards.
The ship was big and Neville had spent a few disastrous days on it at the time he did not show any magic skills. Thanks Merlyn for the house elves who had one of them permanently watching him while he was awake. That saved him from falling overboard twice, from falling from the rails, from being swept by a high wave… But it was all in the past. Lavignia found Neville a charming young lad and was trying for ages to get him interested in one of her own granddaughters. Amelie was great girl but nothing clicked between the two of them before. May be now that the battle was over they would be more relaxed and enjoy each other company more. Augusta picked up her quill and started the response.
"My dear Lavignia, it will be our pleasure to join you…"
"You should not have answered for me Gran! I have my work at Hogwarts to consider!"
"Phew, this is already sorted with Pomona, she thinks you first need some sun and then you can bring some sea plants for the big aquarium so it is considered a business trip. And I am getting old and frail; someone should take care of me!"
"Gran you are not frail!"
"Not yet may be, but I am getting there!"
"What about Mum and Dad?"
Augusta sighed. Neville had not given up hope that one day his parents would be back completely, not the remnants the two former aurors were. "They will be fine without us for a while Neville. We will not be absent for so long. Plus, we will have the seagulls to get the messages to us if something comes up."
The Dover port was as windy and foggy as ever and Augusta clutched Neville's sleeve walking down the slippery cobblestones. At the very end of the peer solitary old man was standing. If there were careful observers around, they would have seen that the drizzle did not touch his sumptuous robes, but there were only the three of them. He gallantly greeted Augusta and looked with interest at Neville, observing how much the young lad resembled his grandfather to the old woman's delight.
"I heard you are a fine swordsman, Mr. Longbottom! This is a skill greatly appreciated once and still in high value around Chateau de Vigneaut." The way the old Frenchman was holding his cane was not the one of a grandfather in need of support. Neville smiled. Monsieur Germain was not known as a wall flower. He had battled both the muggle and the wizarding wars and the invisibility of his castle had proved invaluable for saving many lives during the muggles' most ferocious times. Monsieur Germain had been vocal opponent of Voldemort and the few Death Eaters who had gone to silence him had not come back to tell the story. Rumors were that the nice man had called some of his muggle wartime buddies for backup. He was living on the smudged line between the two worlds and happily at that.
"Ah, here are my darling Ambroise and Lavignia, on time as always!" Behind the old man the ragged sails of "Lavignia-sur-Mer" were barely visible. A gangplank fell and the entire crew of elves was manning the yards, each dressed in his or her favourite flag. An ancient elf with greenish gray tufts of hair on his ears was holding a tray of champagne flutes right next to the place where the two smiling humans were waving at them.
"Wineglass, am I glad to see you my boy!" Monsieur Germain laughed. Lavignia sighed imperceptibly. Wineglass was Monsieur Germain's personal elf and had been following him everywhere, returning to the deck few minutes before his master to assure his entire luggage was safely stowed.
Neville woke up to a brightly sunlit cabin and to the smell of sea. The supper that he had had the previous evening had not been big as he was afraid of the seasickness that was his trouble as a child. Neville was glad to find out no traces of the feeling though. He shaved, dressed and left in search for food.
The first person to meet on the deck was Amelie who was sunbathing clad in something symbolic. She waved at him to come closer and whistled piercingly.
"You are as hungry as I am?" she laughed. "Corkie, please ask Cahrdonnay to double the breakfast! And to toss some English muffins as well…"she added in French.
"Why are you calling him Corkie?" asked Neville taking off his shirt. It was almost indecent to be so overdressed next to the lady.
"How else should I call an elf named Corker? Grandpa's idea, of course, but the little guy loves it!" Amelie chuckled.
Corker popped up with a loud sound and brought two trays laden with food. He served it deftly and hovered around with coffee jug and creamer. Neville squinted at the elf's attire – few layers of cheesecloth stained with grape juice and a necklace of cork rounds on a bright red string. The elf beamed at him. "Mistress Amelie le did pour moi!"
Amelie translated. "He wanst to say that I made it for him – which is true."
"Mais non," the elf protested something in such a rapid French that Neville gave up. Corker disappeared and come back with another elf, in dark burgundy cheesecloth this time. "I am Porto the translator, Master Neville, if you ever need me. Corker wanted to tell you that Mistress Amelie is so kind that she gave him her own necklace from her own neck and she is also so modest to get credit for such generosity!"
"Porto, don't make me blush! I just have run out of corks and decided to share." Amelie actually did blush. She put aside the bid book she had been reading when Neville appeared and took her fork. "Let us eat!" The two elves disappeared immediately.
"What are you reading?" Neville asked after that had finished the mountain of food and Corker had cleaned up.
"Professional literature," Amelie sighed. "I am the nose of the generation so I have also to know what is what. This is "The Magic in French Wines" but is not much, to be honest. Monsieur Germain is of an opinion that one of his friends in Bulgaria has few volumes that may prove to be of certain interest."
"You read Bulgarian?" Neville whistled.
"Nope, I don't but at one point there were a lot of people there who spoke French as fluently as I do and some of them were keen winemakers. So they kept their notes in the language of the winemakers who trained them. If not, there are bound to be elves around that can translate."
"Bulgarians don't have elves, they have talassams. Hermione is very fond of them."
"Of Bulgarians or of the talassems?" Amelie laughed again.
"TalassAms. Oh, she is very fond of Victor, granted, I saw a dragon scale on her finger." Neville smiled as well. "She brought one of the talassams with her last year. A ball-size clematis pod with legs and hands, cute as a mandragore bush and strong as ox. It was complaining of the wet climate all the time. Do all of you still call your great-grandfather "Monsieur Germain"?"
"But of course! How else we will distinguish him from my father?" Amelie saw how the spark in Neville's eyes grew dim. "How are your parents?"
"Same as yesterday and the day before and the year before and the last two decades practically… Sorry, Amelie, I did not mean to come like a ton of bricks. It is so frustrating sometimes. They are both alive and not alive and I don't know what I hate most. Merlin, I did not mean it, at least I have some hope while so many people don't. You know Hannah, Hannah Abbot, my schoolmate. Voldemort killed her mother. She said she would pay dearly to be in my shoes. I just wish the St. Mungo's people were a bit more hard working…"
"Have you thought about a treatment abroad?"
"Their files were sent to few places but nothing came back." Neville sighed. "It is as if everyone had forgotten about them."
Amelie squeezed his hand with compassion. For the two grandmas spying from the deck above it was a good sign.
The weather over the Mediterranean was going from bad to worse and after some discussions the captain decided that they could use few days in calm waters. "Lavignia-sur-Mer" emerged in the freezing waves of Durmstrang Reservoir with shivering elves on the yards and shivering humans at the deck. But the warmth of the hosts' welcome was melting. Durmstrang had a huge winery and distillery as wine and alcohol were very popular as potion bases and for common use. Distinguished wine master as Monsieur Germain would have been met with highest honors even if he were not personal friend to half the faculty of magic potions and his fame had long ago included Ambroise. Neville was hugged fiercely by Hermione and Luna and he and Amelie were swept by the younger gang around Victor Krum. Lavignia and Augusta were personal guests to Mrs. Klyutcharova the chatelaine as she had been at Beauxbatons for a while and they had common friends and teachers to gossip about. Porto the translator was in high demand as there were few talassams who did not speak a word of French but were eager to find the slightest wishes of their guest the elves who had been given the best nests next to the fires at the underground floor.
It was still vacation time at Durmstrang and the days were filled with some lazy mornings, some sleigh rides, a visit to the dragon camp and the winged horses stables, the eagle nests and the watch tower, some indoor Quidditch in the Dragon Hall, the aptly named sports hall with draconian proportions and simply snowball fights in which magic was strictly forbidden. Neville felt rested and ready to move mountains. He noticed that Amelie was missing from all the sports stuff and the rides. She had shaken her head when he asked and explained that she had been working in the distillery library. Her eyes grew fiery as she described the treasures she had been allowed to touch, books on wine dating to the 12th century! Neville also saw that her eyes lit when she was speaking about Trayan, a hereditary wine maker, who had been summoned by his grandfather to help his friend's granddaughter in her research. It seemed that Monsieur Germain was a better strategist than his daughter-in-law, Neville thought. But he only smiled and provided a convenient smoke screen to keep the grandmas off track.
Luna was playing chess with Neville. She had borrowed the Headmaster's set which was a gift from the wine making guild. Each figure was holding a small glass of wine and when it was taken, the winner had to drink it. Neville was suspicious that either Luna had forgotten how to play or she deliberately was losing against him. Sure, the wine glasses were just a little bit bigger than a shooter, but by the endshpil she had three figures against his almost full set. He was thinking how to politely get out of the situation.
Amelie entered the room with her trademark springy gait. "Lovely! I need both of you!"
"I am not very good for use. This is the third game and I have won twice already!" Neville laughed.
"This is the point of playing chess, isn't it? Oh, come on Luna! Not THIS set!" Amelie chuckled.
"Where did you hear about it Am?" Luna giggled. "Not from our illustrious Headmaster!"
"Of course not! But I was offered a game tonight by Trayan and all this in front of Grandmaman! She was charmed, such a studious young man, wants to play chess! Now I get why Monsieur Germain was so keen to know whether we would play the Wine Guild set, but waited to ask after Grandmaman was safely out of earshot…"
"You will play then?"
"But of course! I have been told they keep the best wine for the evenings!"
"I am most insulted, Mademoiselle! And so is my noble rival the White King! We have never served inferior wine that is not up to our regal standards, you have my word of a King of the Blacks!" The king was no bigger than a doll and was still holding his goblet in his left hand, while the right one rested on his sword.
"I most sincerely did not mean to insult you, Your Majesty, but I was told that at night you serve a black wine of exceptional rarity to your champions!" Amelie promptly curtsied and her necklace of corks almost identical to Luna's jumped over her sweater.
"You are invited to test it tonight – I am sure you will understand the drive to win a game and the taste of victory!" nodded the Black King a little bit less sourly.
"Why do you need us both Amelie?" Neville was glad to see the kings waved their armies in the box.
"I am working on a manuscript for a herb wine and there are forty different herbs in it. I know some but I need help with them. And there are some notes in Bulgarian that Trayan does not want to translate for me, so I am counting on Luna! They look like a formula somewhat."
Luna laughed. "Nope, I think I know what they are. These are common things that are written on the walls and mean penis. Forget it, these are doodles but I will come just in case!"
They worked hard, with Neville and Luna doing the translation of the herbs through Latin and Amelie diligently recording all, even the doodles. It was almost supper time when she lifted her head and said, "You have missed something somewhere! I have only thirty-nine herbs down… I counted twice!"
"I am sure we went one by one, but let us go over again!" Neville was leafing through his parchments drafts.
"No need! There is not fortieth herb or rather there is not one now." Trayan was looking at the French girl.
"Why is this?" she prodded.
"This is a story that your great-grandpa will be telling tonight. He asked me on what we have been working and said that there is more to what is in the book. And he also asked to bring the Wine Guild Chess. Had he ever told you why?"
"Not that I can remember. But he is very keen for me to play it by some reason."
"Come on, we have to dress up for dinner." Luna closed the bug dictionary she was holding.
"I got a very odd card that I have to be dressed in white silk shirt, any chance you got the same?" Neville asked Trayan.
"I sure did. Today is the celebration of Midwinter, so the men are dressed for dancing in shirts only, no dinner jackets allowed. The patron saint was going in a white silk shirt on his white horse to order the winter to go away and to welcome the spring."
"Spring? What spring?" Amelie was looking through the tall window where the snowflakes were swirling.
"Well, the winter is ordered to go away, that does not mean that she will listen immediately. Just like some ladies…" Trayan was beaming at her.
"So white silk, you said… Fine, I will see what I can do."
"It is for the men."
"I have to match your outfit for the dances, don't I? See you there! Luna, I may need some help with my hair, will you lend me a hand?"