White walls.
White; a colour that symbolizes purity. A new born child is often wrapped in white cloth after entering the physical world. White also reflects the child's innocence against the evil which inhabits the Earth.And in the child, the soul thrives untouched, virgin; untainted by the demons in man which will soon tempt it.
White represents life.
Yet, why decorate the walls of a hospital with white if it is a place where death stalks the living at every corner?
Emily Jean-Rameau was not an artist- she couldn't even draw a picture to save a life!- nor did she payattention to the fine details of art but to her there was always something disorienting about white walls.
A pale green is fine but why white? Nothingness with a pinch of absence? The temptation to take a paint brush and put something on the walls was strong and growing within her. It was infuriating.
She let out a sigh, she was an adult and it would be very inappropriate for her to do so.
Especially as a researcher who works at one of Magical Britain's top medical institute.
Hopkins Institution was not as well-known among the public as St.Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a landmark of British Wizarding society. Being the dull-grey five story building six blocks from said hospital, Hopkins Institution catered not only for diseases relating to magic, it also provided treatments for Muggle illnesses in the non-Magical wing of the hospital. The members of staff were all magicals of course, yet the difference between St.Mungo's and Hopkins Institution were asclear as tar in water.
Hopkins Institution was not meant for magicals only, but for all of humanity as well.
The foundation of belief built on this institution was the reason why most of Wizarding Britain avoided going to this hospital. The very idea of wizards being equal to Muggles was a very scandal within itself.There were attempts of boycotting the institution financially of course initiated by influential Pure-Blood Families yet the institution continues to stand firmly on the ground, unscratched by the demonization ofits name.
It was also a commonly known secret that the institution was funded greatly by prominent foreign parties most notably from Greater Europe and the Americas serving their social and political interests in Great Britain. Not even the most radical pureblood supremacist dared to raise their wands at the institution lest they gain the wrath of the international community.
Hopkins Institution was the very equivalent of a foreign embassy in muggle terms to Wizarding Britain,thus any act of terrorism on it will trigger an inevitable international conflict which may bring Great Britain's name to a most negative light comparably to Germany during Grindelwald's period.
They even have a Goblin healer working there and Goblins were notorious in their dislike for wizarding kind.
So here, on the third floor of the magically extended hallway, Emily walked casually maintaining a calm demeanor on her face. First, she was up for some lunch with some colleagues at the canteen then shehad to send and discuss her most recent papers to the head researcher Dr Ivan Ravenheart, a timid andshort man in his 80s with a rather long white beard stretching to his chest.
Looking at her research papers one more time, it seems that there was little progress to her research – a cure for the Withering Curse without having to amputate the limbs of the infected- a slight frown appearing on her face as she analyzed further the problem. She has been researching the curse foralmost two years now and there was still a huge wall to overcome.
The Withering Curse was a major problem often faced by Cursebreakers and those who handle ancient artifacts embedded with this curse in them. The effects are catastrophic in nature to the individual whereby it destroys to the iota of a cell and its DNA structure making it practically impossible to recreate new cells even by using specialized regeneration potions.
With a quill in her hand and one in her mouth- she found out that quill biting helped in generating ideas and gaining an epiphany no matter how challenging- she proofread and corrected mistakes present onthe paper. While she walked and wrote she in a state lacking of concentration, knocked into someone with a loud thud which lead to her dropping her research papers on the floor which was now indisarray.
"My God, I'm so sorry-"
Her apology was cut off when she saw a pair of mischievous hazel eyes staring back at her with a joking smirk present on his face.
"It seems that my prayers were answered this morning, to be graced with the presence of an angel.Even if it hurts a bit," the man said with a playful pout as he rubbed his right arm.
Emily rolled her eyes. It wasn't unusual for the man in question to spout out such words and act dramatically. "Well you better be thankful it wasn't the devil himself appearing right in front of you Ironwood," Emily replied in a teasing tone.
Ironwood or Isaac Ironwood as per his full name was one of Emily's close colleagues- a best friend in the office- and was part of the same research team Emily was in. He was a larky character often bringing joy even in the most stressful situations and could even pull off a joke in the face of death. With short blackhair, clean-shaved face, hazel brown eyes and that charming smile he could easily sweep a girl of off their feet. Romantically inclined, he liked flirting with the female portion of Hopkins Institute and take pleasure in earning a smack on the shoulder or a blush on the cheeks.
Isaac smiled at the jab. "Of course I am thankful, even if you were the devil you would make a fine one indeed," he responded, a wide grin appearing on his face. With a swish of his wand and an incantation,the research papers collected neatly back on the clipboard which Emily was carrying.
"Thanks, Isaac."
"No problem, mon cherie. So," he said while inclining his back on the wall, "..when will a pretty Frenchwitch like you have the need to go out on a dinner date with me, tonight? It's a Friday, the end of theweek for God's sake!" the grin turning into a flirtatious smirk as he raised his eyebrows in a cheeky manner.
Emily was no short of a beautiful witch even in her late 20s, being curvy at the right parts with smooth milky tanned skin, she was often stared at by the opposite sex and attempts to gain her hand were numerous. Her eyes were a dark blue in colour with straight brunette hair which curled at the end. She was the epitome of European beauty desired and craved by many; no wonder France was famous forproducing top-notch fashion models! Living in London for 8 years now, she had lost the stereo typicalParisian accent usually associated with France and adopted a Standard English accent accompanied by proper pronunciation. She too believed that the French often butchered the English language with theirwrong pronunciation and odd accent- how would they feel if the English proceeded doing the same withher mother tongue?
However, Emily Jean-Rameau beautiful she may be physically and in character rather noble at most, was a single lady and took pleasure in it. Sure, she wanted a strong male figure to love and take care of her in life, but with work and projects piling like snow on a hill in winter from the institution, as for now, she'll just let the thought pass on.
And it wasn't a secret she was still pure in that sense.
"Not now Ironwood," she said with a slightly dull tone, "maybe next time?" she said with a small smile on the sides of her face.
Isaac sighed dramatically. "It's been three years now I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance Ms. Rameau and not even once in those three years have you ever accepted a date of any kind for me save lunch at the canteen. Is it cause I'm twenty four and five years younger than you?" he ended with acheeky tone.
Emily who already was used to the cheek rolled her eyes the second time.
"You and I both know that isn't the reason Isaac. With work and all, it's practically impossible for me todedicate my time for a date or two. I am due to present my findings of my study on the Withering Curse at a conference in Bern in two weeks time and I still haven't got a clue how to properly defuse the curse once it enters the blood stream."
"So it isn't my age then?" Isaac said, the smirk still sticking on his expression.
"Nope," she said with in a happier tone, "I'm just real busy that's all. In all honesty Isaac, you're a real cutie" she continued with smile on her face, gaining a satisfied look on Isaac. "But when it comes to men," a frown replacing the smile, "I'm as traditional as those in the olden days. When I'm serious, I won't hesitate to pick the option of marriage. In all seriousness, I believe in the power of marriage, not some one night stand," a solemn look etched upon her visage.
"Alright alright," Isaac continued raising his hands up in a mock surrender. "You know the best ones to us men are the ones that are pure and playing hard to get," the cheeky tone now intensifying in hisvoice.
"Men are impossible," Isaac's statement earning another eye roll from Emily.
"Oh look at the time, it seems I am late for an appointment," Isaac stated while looking at his pocketwatch, "'till next time mon cherie. And I'll be sure to win your heart in the future." Isaac ended with a determined yet playful look in his eyes.
"You can try Woody," Isaac grinned at the use of his nickname, "but I'm sure you'll fail again," the playful affirmative causing both her and Isaac to laugh.
As they parted ways, Emily managed to complete her corrections before heading for lunch at the canteen. She chatted a bit with her colleagues there and asked some for their opinions on her working paper. After putting their recommendations on an empty piece of paper, she thanked them for assistingher and went straight out of the canteen, only to be run in by a fuzz of strawberry blonde that went to hug her waist.
"Aunt Emily!" the fuzz of strawberry blonde squeaked.
"Genevieve! How many times do I have to tell you not to run and headbutt Aunt Emily like that?" awoman with the same locks of strawberry blonde who was also standing behind the little girl addressed in a stern tone with a frown on her face.
Emily chuckled at the sight as the cute little button of a girl wrapped her arms around herself and had an adorable pout on her face. "It's okay Belle, I don't mind getting a hug from this little critter anytime,"Emily replied while playing with the girl's hair.
"You're such a sweet heart you know that," Emily said while putting her forefinger on Genevieve's little nose earning a little giggle from the girl.
Isabelle Strauss also chuckled at the scene. She too was one of Emily's best friend's at the institute and considered her an honorary sister and aunt to her little bundle of joy. She wasn't a researcher like Emily but instead worked as a pediatrician and was an expert in early child psychology. The first time they metwas at the institute when Emily first started working there before you know it, they became instant friends because of a snide and cheeky remark made by her regarding Emily's thick French accent. They were very close to the point where Isabelle even made her a bridesmaid during her wedding. She is yet to see Emily lighten up and head out to the married life. One can only hope for such to happen.
"So where you heading off to, Amy?" a look of cringe appeared on Emily's face as Isabelle jab a tease ather. She knew she hated that nickname but still went for it anyway.
"Well, Bella-belle," this time Isabelle cringed earning a smirk from Emily. "I'm heading off to submit my report to Dr.Ravenheart before enjoying a relaxing read back at home."
"Oh I see. Any good news so far?"
With a look of slight disappointment Emily sighed. "Well, there's still a major hurdle to overcome with the curse's ability to dismantle and disintegrate the structure of the chromosomes which are especially vulnerable in thread-like state. But other than that, trying to stop the curse from attacking the nucleus isby far the hardest part. The curse seems to have a mind of its' own, attacking the nucleus instead of the other organelles present in a cell."
"Wouldn't be a surprise there," said the equally serious Isabelle, knowing that Emily's job is a pain compared to hers. "So no plans what so ever after handing in your research other than trapping yourselfat home like a dragon in a den?" asked Isabelle her expression changing to a more playful one.
"Nope. I'm completely free," said Emily.
"Oh, so you're not busy preparing your case study for the conference in Bern then. Why are you missing the chance of a nice relaxing evening with a charming young man," Isabelle said beaming wildly with anaura over-enthusiasm surrounding her like a cloak.
Emily stopped and stared wide-eyed at Isabelle. "Of course she knows. She's a little gossip queen when she needs to be," whispered Emily to herself.
"Don't play dumb on me Emily. You and I both know that Woody has the hots for you and you're not giving him a chance." Isabelle said while ushering Genevieve to go to her then proceeded to play withher daughter's hair.
"Likewise Isabelle, both you and I know that I can't afford to spend my time in a puppy-love relationship then wait for it to break apart. I'm a researcher for God's sake and I rather use what I have in order to help humanity and society as a whole," replied an annoyed looking Emily.
"Yes, your pursuits are noble and most welcoming but can't you start thinking about yourself for once? I know that you wish to settle down and have a family but you can't and won't unless you start moving your pieces together. And you're not twelve anymore, puppy-dog love is a thing of the past. You're twenty-nine and you're not turning any younger," Isabelle countered with slight frustration present in her voice.
Emily gave a thought at what Isabelle said and sighed in defeat. She was right; she wanted a family and kids –especially when looking at cute little Genevieve- to call her own yet she was so afraid that she can't cope with her work and her family life. She's seen many marriages and families break apart due to lack of interaction and attention between one another. Her fears outweigh her dreams to the point where she's afraid to take the first few steps towards a relationship.
"Alright, alright," said Emily softly, "I'll give it a try next time."
This earned a smile from Isabelle. She knew it was difficult for Emily to move on from her past,and tried not to pressure her too much. However moments like this prompted her to push Emily a bit further than usual; she of all people deserved happiness after all.
"Anyway since you're free this evening, how about accompanying me and Jenny here to Diagon Alley?"Isabelle said while patting Genevieve's head, "She's been pestering me about Fortesque's ice-cream fordays now and I don't seem to have the time except later on."
With a smile Emily agreed and told both of them to wait for her at the hospital lobby as she wanted to hand in her report to Dr.Ravenheart beforehand. After reaching Dr.Ravenheart's office, she knocked on his door and was greeted to the sight of a small timid man behind a huge desk reading a thick tomb. She then exchanged pleasantries with the man and discussed issues which sprung out from their latest analysis regarding the Withering Curse. Before exiting, she then proceeded to inform him of her early departure from work which he immediately obliged. Thus after thanking him for letting her go early, she then proceeded to the exit and went straight down to the lobby on the first floor.
Isabelle and Genevieve were sitting at the waiting area in the welcoming lobby when Emily arrived there. As she arrived they then continued on to the one of the fireplace located closes to the welcoming desk.
"Dearie, do you still remember how to use Floo Powder?" Isabelle asked her daughter in a motherlyvoice.
"Hmm, yes mommy. To the Leaky Culdran right?"
"It's pronounced Leaky C-aul-dron, little Genevieve," Emily corrected her. "If you were to say it wrongly you might end up in another place instead."
Genevieve practiced saying it again and again until she could. Satisfied, Isabelle then went first towards the fireplace with a pinch of Floo Powder in her hand. After announcing her destination with a poof,Isabelle quickly vanished from the fireplace in green fire surrounding her.
Genevieve was very excited after seeing her mother disappearing like that. Her grey eyes were animated and full of youth which was no surprise after seeing her jump up and down. This in turn brought a smile on Emily's face.
What I'll give the world for a kid of my own right now.
Joyful that Genevieve was, she kept her mommy's words at heart and calmed down before entering the fireplace. She repeated what she saw from her mommy and took a pinch of Floo Powder from a rusty tincan hanging by a nail at the side of the fireplace.
"The Leaky Cauldron!" she shouted loud attracting the attention of the attendees at the lobby towardsher.
Like her mother, she disappeared in a flash of green flames leaving grey precipitate on the spot where she stood moments ago.
It was then Emily's turn to use the Floo Network. Seeing a happy family like Isabelle and Genevieve and being able to participate in their family activities should actually cheer Emily up from all the stress that she was carrying on her shoulders.
However for some odd reason, there was an odd feeling in her gut literally screaming at her that something was very wrong.
She ignored it and shrugged it off.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Emily said, vanishing into thin air.
Before heading off to Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor, Isabelle wanted to bring Genevieve clothes shopping as she had already outgrown some of her usual attire. Genevieve protested and threw a rather loud yet civil tantrum- civil because there was actual whining yet no tears or screaming- at her mother.
Isabelle who true to her occupation- an expert in child psychology- gave her a firm no at her tantrum accompanied by a solemn gaze. She then warned her if she continued her tantrum, there will be no ice-cream and other treats later on. Genevieve, who always knew her mother to keep her word,acknowledged defeat and apologized.
Genevieve, aged six, was a saint compared to most children her age. The absence of her father, Rudy Strauss who has to work outstation often- the man works as a supplier for rare potion ingredients-sometimes ranging from a week to three months allowed a close bond to form between mother anddaughter. Thus Isabelle, equipped with proper knowledge, raised her lovingly without coddling her to bea spoilt child.
And so, they went forth to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions with the still upset Genevievetagging along. When they arrived at the clothes store right in front of the Quidditch Supply Shop, they were greeted by the cheery Madam Malkin who always made time for her customers. They were a few ladies in their golden years present in the shop sitting at a table next to the cashier counter most probably Madam Malkin's friends.
Since Madam Malkin was busy entertaining Isabelle and Genevieve as she magically conjured ameasuring tape, paper and a quill, Emily went on and walked around the shop. She went further in and stumbled upon Madam Malkin's new winter robe collection which happened to look like it belonged in a museum. Being muggleborn and French, Emily was rather well-updated regarding the happenings of the muggle fashion industry. However occasionally, one would easily spot her wearing witch robes albeit amore stylish variation than worn by the norm.
She snorted a laugh as she imagined herself wearing those set of robes. She would look older than she really was and if she were to return back to France wearing them, the muggle public might not hesitate to put her in an asylum.
Shaking her head at the absurdity of that idea, she exited that section of the shop and strolled towards the counter, maybe wait for the two girls there? She was already done looking around and had nointerest of buying anything except a pair of blue gloves made from the hide of a Swedish Shortsnout.
"….. Have you heard that Ms.Nott was caught in a room alone with the Minister's Secretary…"
Ah yes, old women gossip. The forbidden fruit which both muggle and wizarding society share alike. Entertaining it may be, but for every one truth spoken there are nine lies accompanying it. Nevertheless,truth be told, not even a sophisticate and intellectual like Emily could resist such juicy gossip. Thus sheplaced her ear at the table where the old ladies were sitting down while pretending to be fond of the woodwork carved on the counter table. It was far more entertaining than having to wait for Isabelle and Genevieve and knowing Isabelle it might take another thirty minutes for sure.
"…. Dear Elgar was very delighted to hear that I won the Annual Weatherby Bakeoff," a lady wearingbright pink all over with an odd looking feather hat said in triumph.
"Not this old story again Melda," interjected a lady wearing plain grey robes with a huge necklace with an onyx centerpiece. The lady had a serious no-nonsense look on her face. "You've been telling us this for the fifth time this week," she continued in an annoyed tone.
"Oh hush Minnie, I just wanted to inform you all that's why." Melda said with faux innocent look on herface, her hands moving about in a dramatic manner. "Well I'm just so very excited to be able to go on my tour de la France," she pronounced in an over-exaggerated French accent as Emily was holdingherself from cringing, "with Elgar next spring. He's been trying to apply his holiday leave for ages now and finally managed it."
"Ohh, which part of France are you holidaying to?" chirped a third lady wearing a modest green robe.Her grey hair decorated in a stylish bun similar to what younger witches often style these days.
"Paris of course, maybe stopping by Bordeaux for a days. And I heard there was a very extravagant shopping district in Montpellier that sold high quality items at a cheap price…."
"Speaking of France," Minnie the solemn looking lady interrupted. "Have you heard what happened recently there written in The Daily Prophet? The murders of a duelist and his wife?"
This caught Emily's attention. She hasn't been out and about from the hospital for a few days now andwas not really well-informed of what was happening around town or abroad. Emily perked her ears
further to the conversation hoping to know further on the misfortunate events happening in her homeland.
At that same moment as she was about to listen, she felt a tug on her robes and saw little Genevieve smiling wildly at her.
"We're done Aunt Emily! Let's go let's go let's go!" her voice was loud and resonated around the shop prompting the three ladies from continuing their conversation in order to take a peek at them.
"Genevieve Strauss! No shouting in the shop!" scolded her mother earning a sheepish grin from the mischievous child. Isabelle sighed and thanked Madam Malkin for packing her purchases and rushed tochase the hyperactive child who went straight out of the shop.
Emily and Isabelle exited the shop as Isabelle went and grabbed the hand of her child while scolding her for running out before them. It was a heartwarming sight to see, a moment between a mother and herchild even if it involved a teary-eyed girl and a ferocious looking woman.
Yet, the thought of what the ladies said replayed in her mind.
Murders? The death of a dueler and his wife? How very odd…..
The trio went straight to Fortesque's and the sulking looking child turned happy in a blink of an eye.Emily bought herself a triple truffle chocolate supreme sundae while Isabelle and Genevieve were content to share a vanilla and strawberry banana split with rainbow sprinkles on top.
If one were to see the ice-cream being eaten by Emily even a cold autumn day like this, one would not be able to control the flow of saliva escaping their mouth.
Then again, Emily hadn't the appetite at all her ice-cream looking untouched.
Why do I feel like something bad is going to happen?
And at that moment the trio were interrupted by the sound of ruffling feathers and a blur of brown landing on their table. Isabelle was caught by surprise, dropping her spoon on the ground and Genevieve screamed as she was afraid of owls. Emily who was caught off guard herself looked in the direction ofthe owl who was staring right back at her.
The owl dropped a letter it was holding in between its beak and flew away immediately without expecting a treat or two usually given to owls.
Isabelle picked the letter up with her right hand and read it, confusion etched on her face.
"It's addressed to you, but it isn't written in English," said Isabelle as she handed the unopened letter toEmily.
Emily took the letter and read the cover. It seemed like a normal looking letter. However, what caught her eye was the seal of the letter; a wand and a sword arranged in a cross X with the words Republique Francais inscribed at the bottom.
And at that moment Emily knew that something was really wrong. The nervousness was screaming in her gut and she had the urge to vomit. Emily could literally hear her heartbeat through her ears. Of all her eight years staying in London not even once had she received a single letter from the French Ministry of Magic.
Genevieve who also felt the tenseness of the situation looked at her mother and Isabelle in confusion.Why was it suddenly so quiet after the owl came?
With slight trembling hands, she took out the seal carefully and opened the letter.
There was no way in the world she would have expected this to happen.
Dear Ms.Emily Jean-Rameau,
It is to our greatest displeasure to inform you of the deaths of Chris du Matin and Sophie du Matin(Formerly known as Sophie Saint-Claire) on the 11th of October 1973.
It is also due to be informed that under section 4(a) of the Wizarding Child Welfare Law that you are named legal guardian of Gabrielle du Matin as per succession. All assets belonging to Chris du Matin and Sophie du Matin will be placed under your name and care until the child of the deceased has reached theproper age of adulthood at 17.
You are also summoned immediately to the embassy of the Ministry of Magic of the Republic of Francefor further engagement with the authorities concerning the situation.
Our condolences,
Phillip Leblanc,
Office of the Ambassador of France to the United Kingdom.
Nothingness.
Emptiness.
But.. but.. how?
"Speaking of France, have you heard what happened recently in there written in The Daily Prophet? The murders of a duelist and his wife?"the conversation playing in her head.
"Emily, what's wrong??" Isabelle asked in a very worried tone as she saw the expression of shock on her friend's face.
Suddenly, strong gust of autumn wind blew in their direction, the chill of the air freezing all that encountered it.
Yet Emily remained stoic as she stared at the piece of paper in her hand.
"My newspaper!" a man shouted loudly as his copy of the Daily Prophet got carried by the wind.
The newspaper got scattered by the wind each piece blowing in opposite direction. One piece managed to fly in the direction of the trio and went straight into Genevieve's face.
Genevieve who was still trying to understand what was going on between her mother and Aunt Emily was fairly annoyed at the newspaper. She took the piece of newspaper and placed it on the table as she tried to read the title albeit failing to do so.
Famous French Duelist Chris Du Matin and Wife Murdered. Daughter Used Killing Curse
