Toujours Pur The_Sigillani_SorcererCha Chapter 1: Water is Thicker than Blood
Luca watched the waves crash against the white cliffs of Dover. He looked in longing at a land he had so often thought about in daydreams. Deep down, he knew England was where he belonged. There, he thought, I might not have to hide for what I am. Maybe they have forgiven my original sin. These thoughts encapsulated the young man, who had just turned fifteen that very day. He was not in a very joyous mood though. To him, birthdays always made him think about his homeland, his real family, his real parents.
"Luca!" an older woman's voice called harshly from afar. The young man turned to look to see a woman in her mid-forties holding an arsenic green parasol, waving for him to follow.
"Yes Aunt Apolline," he replied, running to catch up to the woman to continue their walk across the Calais beaches.
"You shouldn't dwell so much on England," she scolded as Luca stopped beside her. "If I have taught you one thing about that land is that it's a backwater. No success awaits you there, only prejudice and disaster."
"Yes, I understand," the teenager placated as he turned away to look back at the beautiful majesties that were the massive white English cliffs. His aunt hit him in the shin with her parasol for that.
"Do not lie, Luca. I mean it, that isle is dangerous."
The boy knew he would have to lie better. He looked his aunt straight in the eye as he replied. "You're... You're right. My place is in France. The Blac... I mean... they didn't want me anyway."
Luca was almost scared his slip would anger his aunt because she forbade any mention of his birth family, but she let it pass. Funny enough, she looked rather happy at his response. "Very good my dear, but I think I have had enough for today. The sun is scorching and I wear too many layers for my own good." The two then walked off the beach and into the groves of grapes that led into the small village of Sangette. It was then Luca noticed her clothes. Her entire wardrobe was a distracting strange of green. She wore an artistic evergreen dress that was rigidly defined by her mint-hued corset. Her face was as naturally pale as the women who used lead to light theirs, and that was in thanks to her parasol which seemed to always somehow magically block any sun from reaching her face.
When the two finally arrived at the center of the quaint village, a massive frown crossed Aunt Apolline's face. For once she had been cheerful all day, but that had now disappeared once she saw groups of farmers and their families mill about the hamlet. "Muggles," she cursed, grabbing her ward's arm firmly before pulling him into an alleyway.
Why do they always scare her so much? Luca asked himself. She is a powerful witch, she can handle herself. Then he realized he had forgotten her prejudice. Aunt Apolline thoroughly condemned the British for their treatment of goblins and house-elves, but yet always had a special place in her heart for her hatred towards muggles and squibs. I cannot fully blame her, the boy thought. She was raised as a pure-blood of the sacred bone after all.
"We have to leave, now," the boy's aunt demanded, withdrawing her wand from her corset. It was a long elm one that bore a core of pure unicorn hair. Luca did not dare disobey his aunt and let her drag him to the back of an old brick bakery. Beside the shop, there was a cellar door, and after the woman had flung it open, they descended into the darkness.
"Lumos," she boomed, a ball of light emerging from the wand. It was so bright, the boy could not bear to look at it directly, and turned the other way, wishing his aunt and uncle let him bring his wand outside of the house. At the far back of the cellar was a hearth that could cook an entire feast, but not a single pot lay cooking within it, only a small opened urn filled with dust.
"You go first, boy," she ordered. It was then Luca was painfully reminded Apolline was not his real aunt, but his adoptive mother. She, however, refused to let him call her mother, as she considered it an insult to her biological children. Without hesitation, the teenager approached the jar, dug his hand inside, pulled out a sizable serving of dust, and walked onto the hearth. His heart rate then began to grow as he realized how a single mistake could cost him dearly. He had not used floo-powder often, as his aunt and uncle considered it for the weak. It was then Apolline gave him a warm, comforting smile, and Luca knew he could do it.
"Château de Marrow!" the boy bellowed as he tossed the powder onto the fireplace below him. Luca could only watch as his aunt's face disappeared from sight as green flames consumed his body and whirring blares of winds shrieked in his ears. It was hard not to panic as the fire danced about, so he closed his eyes, and waited, and waited, and waited until the awful gales and smoke smell vanished.
"Luca!" the voice of an older man called happily. The boy opened his eyes to see a tall man with graying black hair in a suit. He was holding a large paper brown parcel and had a big grin across his slightly wrinkled face.
"Uncle Bertrand!" the teenager replied with just as much ecstasy as he ran over to give him a hug. Despite his posh appearance, his uncle did not care that his ward's cinders got on his suit.
It was then another burst of green flames rose up from behind the boy, and Aunt Apolline emerged from the hearth. Still holding her wand in hand, she mumbled a spell under her breath and waved her elm branch to make any ash disappear off her fine clothing. After that, she put her wand back into her corset and joined in on the hug. The three together seemed like one happy family, but it was not the case. Bertrand was almost always working at the French Ministry of Magic and Apolline would spend most days as his tutor and only teacher. Luca was not even allowed to attend Beauxbatons, for his adoptors feared his origins would get out and ruin the ancient and noble House of Nicolay's reputation.
"How about we start the day's celebrations!" Bertrand proposed, breaking the hug and handing Luca the brown parcel. Not needing another moment, the teenager ripped the paper covering to shreds to find a heavy tome resting in his hands. Its title read: A History and Record of the Wizarding Cities and Settlements of Europe.
"Thank you so much!" Luca said as he gave his uncle another hug.
"I know you want to see the world outside this manor," Bertrand explained. "So I gave you this little gift to tell you that, one day, when you are of age, you can see all these wondrous places." Aunt Apolline seemed displeased by his statement, but again, kept her demeanor calm so as not to spoil the day.
For the rest of the afternoon, the trio celebrated Luca's fifteenth year of life. They played croquet and other lawn games on the massive greens that dominated the manor's grounds. Later, as evening began to arrive, they feasted on delicious foods Apolline had prepared with her gift with of food charms. They spent the night eating seven courses that ranged from onion soup to lobster.
As the day came to its twenty-second hour, and the three were enjoying a decadent dessert of vanilla ice cream and peaches, the two adults grew nervous. Fortunately, Luca did not notice as he was too busy focusing on his cold confection.
"Dear Luca," Aunt Apolline said softly and sweetly, a tone which unnerved her ward.
"Yes..." the boy answered, afraid he had done something wrong.
"We know ever since Colette and Anton have left for Paris you have been terribly lonely. For nearly a year you have had no other children to be with."
"What are you saying?" Luca asked. "Are you getting another ward?" The boy hoped so. His aunt was certainly not wrong when she said he had been devoid of company.
"No," Bertrand responded. "Our duties outside the home have been growing too much for us. Things have been hard for the past few years..." The man then bit his tongue and held back what seemed like tears.
"What he means is," Luca's aunt said. "We can no longer take care of you. You have meant a lot to us these past fifteen years, but now, everything else in our lives has grown too great to take care of you.
The boy did not reply, he only gawked in shock at his caretakers. He wanted to dismiss what they were saying as a joke, but the look in their eyes told him very much otherwise.
His reaction did not stop his aunt though. "We found a good family for you in Lima, Peru. They will take care of you just like we have, and nothing will be any different."
"Nothing," Luca repeated weakly, dropping his spoon on the table and pushing his desert away from him.
"Yes, nothing," Bertrand agreed, guilt in his voice. "You understand, right? The ministry is trying to cover up all the muggle murders, there are house-elf refugees from Britain trying to claim asylum, and the dragon pox is spreading like wildfire. These are very troubled times, and me and your aunt are needed elsewhere."
That was when Luca could not take it anymore. He put his head on the table and covered it with his arms, breaking down into sobs as his two guardians only watched in disappointment.
"Composure," Apolline scolded. "You will never get anywhere in life demonstrating melancholy like th-"
"Shut up!" Luca wailed. "Why do you hate me? You two have been my family for fifteen years, and now you want me gone. Why? Why?"
In response, his aunt promptly stood up and walked over to Luca, who was still weeping into the crimson tablecloth. Firmly, she pulled his head up by the collar and slapped him across the cheek. "Go to your room, now!" she bellowed. "Do not disrespect me like that! I have taken care of you for fifteen years, and this is how you repay me, with crying? I guarantee if you ever do that to your new family, you will be out on the street in a week. Now, go to your room, you leave in five days."
Luca ran out of the dining hall without even saying goodbye. He dashed up the grand white marble staircase before bolting down the long green hall to his room. He slammed the door shut, threw himself atop his bed, and began to weep. He hugged his pillow before crying into it. He called for his mother in his tears as he knew she was the only person who would ever love him.
For what seemed like hours, Luca bawled into his pillow, even when he heard the door open. It was Uncle Bertrand. "Hey Luca," he said softly. "I'm so sorry we have to do this to you, but I want you to know that I lov- I lov- I-" The man couldn't even get the word out. All Luca then heard was his uncle dropping something on his bedside table before leaving him in woe.
When the house had finally grown silent, and Luca had run out of tears, the boy got up from his soaked pillow and looked at what Bertrand had left. It was the book of cities he had been given as a birthday present. His first reaction was to burn it, but deep down, he knew he could not do that.
The teenager set his book on his bed, and turned back to the bedside table, and opened it. Inside lay a twelve-inch long fir wood wand with a core of phoenix feather. It is mine, Luca thought. My only true possession.
The boy took the wand and brought it to the bed where he opened up the book, cast the wand lighting charm, and began to read. For hours he learned of the great wizard cities that dotted the continent, from the hidden quarter inside of Helsinki to the underground markets of Venice. However, when his eyes finally began to grow tired and he flipped for what seemed like the hundredth page, he saw an ever-familiar castle appear. Hogwarts.
The place brought a strange feeling within him. One of anger, one of pain, but most of all, one of longing. That is where my father is, Luca thought. Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I am his bastard, a shame to any family that considers themselves superior to all. The boy traced his fingers along the page and began to think of his own kin, people who might actually love him and not toss him aside once he became a nuisance or burden.
I am not going to Peru, Luca thought, a strange sense of determination filling his once sad soul. I am going to find my father. I will not stop looking until I die. He is all I have left.
The boy then gripped his wand tightly as he ran into his closet, pulling out a satchel. He immediately began to stuff it full with clothes and the book his uncle had given him. When it had been packed to the brim he closed it and put it around his shoulder and approached the door.
Am I really going to do this? he asked himself. Am I really going to run away? The answer was plain and simple. Yes.
Luca then tried to unlock the door, but it did not budge. They must have locked it, he thought.
"Alohomora," he whispered. Nothing happened.
They cursed it, he thought with fury. They want me to stay, even though they plan on shipping me away. I want to leave! I hate this place! I hate these people! Please god, let me go!
That swirl of rage burned within him as he went to the far side of his room, every muscle in his body filled with utter anger as he pointed his wand right at the door and started to yell.
"Bombarda! Bombarda! Bombarda!"
The door was blown into bits as three almost deafening explosions echoed off the walls of the house. They were so frightening that even the squirrels a mile away ran in fear. Luca did not care, he dashed out of what remained of the door and hallway, down the grand steps, and into the unforgiving night.