Notes: YAY, CHAMBER OF SECRETS. Warning in advance - one of the options in the poll will come out at the end of the year but THE GAME WILL STILL BE ON. 8DDD (and you just lost The Game /shot)
Blurring House Lines: Year Three
Part I
Hey Artie!
Come over to Francis's house! It's amazing. We're celebrating our birthdays – his birthday's on the fourteenth and mine is on the fourth. It'll be fun! We're going to have a beach party. Nat's already here, by the way. She's been acting a bit odd lately… she's more quiet than usual. Francis's sister and cousin are adorable. You totally need to see them.
From,
Alfred
Arthur Kirkland had packed his bags. The other day he had received a letter from his friend Alfred F. Jones via owl post, inviting the Brit to go over to his other friend Francis Bonnefois's house. He also had received his Hogwarts supply list as well as a form for Hogsmeade, a wizarding town next to Hogwarts. Third years and older were allowed to visit on certain weekends provided that they got said form signed by a parent or guardian.
Liam, Arthur's older brother, had signed the form for Arthur and offered to take him to Francis's house.
"Off to France today?" he asked as Arthur came into the kitchen barely managing to lift up his trunk.
"Yeah," grunted Arthur, setting the trunk down in a corner of the kitchen. He ran back upstairs to get Driscoll, his barn owl. Driscoll was sitting grumpily in his cage. "Once we get to Francis's house I'll set you free," Arthur promised quietly.
Driscoll hooted irritably.
Erin, Arthur's older sister, set a platter of scrambled eggs in front of him as Arthur placed Driscoll on top of his trunk and went to sit down at the table. "Thanks, Erin," he said with a grin.
"Oh, I signed your Hogsmeade waiver, Arthur," Erin added as she made the dishes wash themselves with a flick of her wand.
"Thanks again," Arthur said, tucking into his breakfast.
Arawn, Arthur's other older brother, came loping into the room. He was already a fifth year at Hogwarts. "Hey, guess who became a Prefect?" he asked excitedly as he flopped down onto his seat and Erin served him breakfast.
"The bloke right next to me," Arthur replied as Peter, his younger brother, came walking in.
"Congratulations," Erin said with a smile. Liam nodded.
Peter took his seat at the table and stole half of Arthur's breakfast without batting an eyelid. "Three more years until Hogwarts!" the eight-year-old cheered.
"Hey! That was my breakfast!" Arthur cried indignantly.
"So what?" Peter grinned mischievously.
Francis's house was situated on the French Riviera, in the city of Nice. It was a villa boasting a beautiful panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea and close to La Promenade des Anglais. The villa was also close to Beauxbâtons Academie de la Magie, the school that Francis's younger sister and cousin attended.
"Bonjour Monsieur MacDonald," Francis said, shaking Liam's hand and kissing Arthur on both cheeks. He was there to greet them on the outskirts of le Château du Beauxbâtons. To the Muggle eye, the school looked like a rundown castle. "Salut, Arthur. Ça va?"
"I'm fine," Arthur said, hugging his French friend and slapping away the hand that was creeping towards his bum. Francis was as perverted as ever, it seemed. "And you?"
"Je vais bien, merci," Francis replied cheerily.
"I should be going now." Liam nodded at Francis and clapped Arthur on the back. "Have fun."
"Bye," Arthur said with a grin. Liam turned on the spot and Disapparated. As soon as he was gone, Francis turned to Arthur with an evil grin.
"So, Arthur. What have you been up to? Writing love letters to your girlfriend?"
"I don't have a girlfriend," Arthur grumped.
"Sure you don't," Francis cackled. "Come on, we all saw it – Tiffany was practically in your lap and she blew you a kiss."
"She's not my girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! Why would I want to go out with her? She's Alfred's bloody cousin!"
"Oh, maybe you're with her because you want to get Alfred, but you don't want the whole school to know that you're –"
"An arse bandit? That's you, not me." Arthur laughed. "So, are we going to your house or not? I've got a big-arse trunk and an owl who hates his cage. Let's go."
"Voilà ma belle maison," Francis said cheerfully. They had taken a Portkey right onto the grounds of Bonnefois Villa.
"It's nice," Arthur said, albeit grudgingly. Driscoll hooted. "Oh, all right," he groaned, opening the cage. The barn owl immediately hopped out and flapped his wings irritably.
Bonnefois Villa was beautiful; many trees were planted around it giving it a park-like atmosphere. Poplars lined the walk up to the house. From the backside of the house, its inhabitants would have a nice view of Nice'sBaie des Anges. As Arthur looked around him, he forgot that there were other friends already there.
"Arthur!" Arthur turned to see Nataliya Arlovskaya, smiling at him. She walked forward and hugged him.
"What's wrong, Nat?" he asked as he hugged her back.
"Nothing," she said, but the strained smile she gave him told him it was a lie.
Arthur sighed. "Right," he said sceptically.
Alfred F. Jones suddenly joined the group. "Artie! Nice to see ya!" he said with a grin. "Here, lemme take your trunk up to your room."
"No need to," Francis said, clapping his hands. A house-elf appeared. "Pierre, prendre cette valise à la chambre d'Arthur, s'il te plaît."
Pierre bowed to Francis and the others. "Oui, monsieur," he said. With a snap of his fingers, Arthur's trunk was floating in mid-air. Pierre and the trunks then disappeared.
Arthur turned to the Frenchman with a half-critical, half-amused look on his face. "Your house-elf's name is Pierre?"
Francis gave Arthur a tour of the house; after that they all sat down in the dining room for dinner.
"Papa, où sont Mabel et Aurélie?" Francis asked his parents as he entered.
"Elles sont allées au Zone Piétonne," Monsieur Bonnefois replied. Madam Bonnefois said nothing; she merely inclined her head and stared at her food.
Arthur suspected that if Francis was France, then Monsieur Bonnefois was Gallia and Madam Bonnefois was the Franks. He said nothing, though. Down the table, Nataliya caught his eye. She nodded silently.
He wondered what she meant.
Halfway through dinner, the door suddenly slammed open and in ran two girls and a blonde boy that Arthur recognised as Matthew Williams, Alfred's brother.
"Sorry they're late, Mister Bonnefois," Matthew gasped. "They insisted I take them to le Jardin botanique de la Ville de Nice," he explained breathlessly.
"Ah, it's no problem," Monsieur Bonnefois replied genially. "We're only halfway through dinner, anyways. Come, sit down." Food immediately appeared on the dishes in the three empty spaces.
"Francis, are you going to carry out introductions?" Madam Bonnefois said. It was the first thing she had said all night; her voice was quiet and slightly hoarse. "I want to know who your British friend is."
"Oh, Maman, je suis désolé," Francis said apologetically. "This is Arthur Kirkland, a friend of mine from Hogwarts. Arthur, this is my mother Ophélie, my father Romain, my sister Aurélie, and my cousin Mabel."
Ophélie Bonnefois was blonde, regal, and sad-looking. Francis seemed to take mostly after her, but it was clear his well-carved features and joyous attitude came more from his father. Romain looked like how Arthur would picture a Roman – aristocratic and imposing, yet quick to laugh. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed.
Aurélie had dark hair and blue eyes. She smiled happily at him. Mabel had light brown hair, green eyes, and glasses; she blushed and looked demurely at her plate.
"Bonsoir, Arthur!" Aurélie chirped as she ate dinner. "It's so nice to meet you! Francis has told me all about you."
"Oh, he has, has he?" Arthur asked, blushing.
"Ouais!" Aurélie smiled mischievously. "You're exactly as I had hoped you'd be."
Arthur blushed harder and glared at Francis, who merely grinned.
The family usually retired to one of the villa's many parlours after dinner to relax and spend time with each other. Alfred, Francis, and Monsieur Bonnefois had taken out a wizard's chess set; Alfred and Francis were playing against each other. Arthur watched them for a moment before he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Nataliya.
"Can I talk to you for a moment? In private," she whispered. He nodded and let himself be dragged out to the hall. Outside the moon was shining through the grand windows, casting shadows of lattices on the hardwood flooring.
"What is it, Nat?" he asked concernedly. "Am I about to learn the reason behind your odd behaviour? Alfred told me..."
She nodded; the moon made her silvery blonde hair shine like platinum. "Artie, there's something different about us," she whispered. "I don't know what it is, but it scares me and I need to tell you about it."
"Why are you telling me, of all people? Why not Francis and Alfred?"
"They wouldn't believe me!" Nataliya frowned at him. "I was wondering why our year... why we're all different nationalities and yet all at the same school... and I'm suspecting..."
"Suspecting what?" Arthur asked concernedly; he took her hand and entwined their fingers.
"My birthday – the twenty-fifth of August – is the day Belarus declared its independence from Soviet Russia. I am always sick when the nation goes through economic troubles. My devotion to my brother mirrors the political ties Belarus has to Russia. Everywhere I look, I remind myself of my homeland. Arthur, Arthur, I don't think I'm human!" Nataliya closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. For a moment she was the most beautiful and sad creature on the planet for Arthur. "I'm the personification of Belarus," she said in a small voice.
Arthur smiled sadly. "And I'm the personification of England, Nat."
"And Francis? Alfred? Matthew?"
"They're France, America, and Canada, respectively," Arthur said, reaching out and wiping away her tears. It was futile; more tears spilled out. "I'm guessing that Alfred's cousins are his states – Tiffany's Massachusetts. And Francis's family..."
"Ophélie represents the Franks," Nataliya agreed, looking down at her hands. "Romain is Rome."
"But Rome is more Italian than French," Arthur said. "Aurore is probably Corisca and Mabel is Monaco."
"I think Romain might have a brother – that brother might represent Rome in its entirety. Romain is probably just Gallia."
Nataliya paused and looked up at him. "How long have you known?" she asked.
"I've known that I was England since first year," Arthur murmured, enfolding her in a hug.
Nataliya buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm scared," she whispered.