Episode Sixty Four

Part One

            It had all been arranged. Gwen was going to stay with friends of Dumbledore in France. She had been given precise directions on how to apparate there, she simply needed to leave Hogwart's grounds before she could do so. When she arrived and settled in she would take an afternoon to visit Beauxbatons.

            When all of her business with Maxime was settled, which shouldn't take long, she thought, she would travel to Reims and the cemetery where her parents were buried. She would be able to apparate back and forth wherever she wanted to once she had her bearings.

            After that she had the entire summer to travel the countryside and see the sights. She figured she could spend an entire month alone in the Louvre and there was no lack of things to see. This summer, she was determined, was going to be the best of her life.

Part Two

            Dumbledore's friends were the most excellent hosts she ever had the pleasure to board with. They were three brothers who had learned as much English as possible to accommodate her and when they didn't know a word they would act it out like charades which provided an endless source of entertainment for all of them.

            The eldest was called Pierre, a rotund gentleman with great red cheeks and a seemingly endless supply of wine with which he quenched Gwen's thirst regularly. She didn't know it yet, but the Frenchman within her was slowly waking up to the joys of living rich. Soon she would be overtaken by the desire to drink barrels of wine and eat giant mounds of cheese. She was going to have to get this under control before she returned to teach.

            The next was Jerome, the smallest of all three, who kindly offered to be her tour guide about the countryside he knew. He knew the most English out of the three and spent the most time just chatting to Gwen about their pasts. He was sweet and mild compared to his other two brothers, and hardly seemed related to them.

            The last was Phillipe and he was definitely the wildest of the bunch. He drank Pierre under the table and both of them would be up late at night, playing cards and smoking more cigarettes than Gwen thought possible. Smoking seemed to be a very popular thing to do in France, but Gwen wasn't about to take up another bad habit.

            After a few days of cajoling about with the brothers three (which ironically was their last name: Trois) she finally decided it was time to deliver her letter to Madame Maxime. Dumbledore hadn't been very specific with his directions, but Gwen thought that it was merely because he was far too pre-occupied with other business about the Order. He handed her the letter with strict instructions to give it only into the Madame's hands.

            After hours of searching Gwen finally found Beauxbatons. It was one of those unplottable places and could not be positioned on a  map. This made her job particularly difficult, considering she had no concept of the French language. She couldn't ask for directions even if she had found a non-muggle type. Fortunately she had a knack for stumbling on things when she least expected. She figured it was just another facet of faerie luck, threw up her hands and laughed.

            She entered the gates to see a lovely castle, pale blue in color with airy windows everywhere. She approached the main door and after checking in with a guard entered a great marbled entranceway. Pillars ran from the floor to the ceiling, carved masterfully from the exquisite stone. Cherubs perched on top of the pillars gazed down at her and she could have sworn that they started to whisper excitedly when she turned her head from them.

            The room was devoid of living creatures as she noticed two over-dressed ghosts floating past her, speaking in the smooth cadence of the foreign language she could not understand. She smiled as they passed, hoping one of them would stop and point her in the right direction, but they didn't even perceive her. Ironic, she thought, that the dead could ignore the living just as much as the reverse.

            A large hand landed on her shoulder and reminded her strongly of the time she and Harry had been caught sneaking back into the common room by Professor McGonagall. Of course the memory carried with it a sinking, guilty feeling and it read loudly on her face when she turned to see the giant who had nabbed her.

            "What iz your name?" Madame Maxime said in her elegant accent. She was towering above Gwen in a deep blue, satin gown. Her body was well proportioned for its size, but what size. She stood as tall as Hagrid and with her eyebrow arched at a quizzical angle seemed almost deadly. Gwen didn't want to admit it, but for a moment she thought she might understand all the prejudice that came with being a giant.

            "What iz your name?" The half-giantess repeated.

            "Which one?" Gwen snorted, forgetting her manners. "I have quite a few."

            "Why iz zat?"

            "It's a defense mechanism, keeps people guessing." And it tended to be common in folks with fey blood. Even the Stag King had a multitude of names. Maybe it was a decoy to keep people from guessing their real name, which for reasons undisclosed to her held a strange power over the fey. Whomsoever had control of her fey name had control of her. "Guenivere." She said, trying to shake the thoughts from her head. "Most people call me Gwen."

            "Guenivere iz a lovely name."

            "Thank you Madame." She said courteously. She might as well try to be more formal and make a good show of it.

            "Dumblydor 'as sent you?"

            "Oui." She said, practicing the only French word she knew besides bibliotheque. Although she suspected that word would be useless to her in this context.

            "Tu parle Francais?"

            "No." She said with an embarrassed smile. "But you obviously have a fantastic grasp of English."

Madame Maxime positively beamed. Gwen made a mental note that flattery would get you everywhere with the French. They continued to make small conversation for over two hours, standing casually in the gorgeous hallway. Finally Gwen delivered her letter from Dumbledore and with much ado said adieu.

She smiled. Hagrid and Maxime, she thought, would make a great couple.

Part Three

            Another few restful and alternately adventurous days with the brothers Trois passed before Gwen felt ready to visit her mother and father. She knew it was going to be the most emotionally trying experience of her life, even more than her experiences with Harry and Graves.

            Parents could wrench your guts out far more easily than guys.

            She found the cemetery much more quickly than Beauxbatons. She had even picked up a few French words and could ask for directions now if she needed to. But it was almost like the pull of the faerie mound, she let her feet lead the way and before she knew it she was there.

            There were so many headstones she hardly knew where to start. She looked up and down the rows of pristine stone, although many had been weathered and aged they were well tended to. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the giant family marker: LeFey.

            Her hand over her heart she stepped forward timidly. She waded through forty headstones, some small, some large. All of these were her family. Her heart broke when she saw two freshly dug graves. One belonged to Beorc, that she had expected. The other belonged to George.

            She bowed her head in respect and grief, glad that she didn't need to talk to anyone. Her voice wouldn't have worked if she had tried. She felt a soft hand grasp her own lying limp at her side. She looked to her left and there stood a tender looking woman dressed in mourning black.

            "Aunt Ann?" She said, her eyes filling with the tears she had been fighting to hold back.

            "It's so good to see you again Guenivere." She gushed, fighting her own losing battle. She pulled her niece into her arms and held her, sharing their pain eased it just enough to make a difference. After some time she nudged the girl gently and asked her to tea.

            "I'd love that. We have so much to catch up on."

Part Four

            The two women spent the rest of the evening moving from emotion to emotion fluidly. They shared tears, laughter, anger and joy all at the same table, idly sipping peach tea and nibbling on bits of cracker and cheese.

            "How long have you been living here?" Gwen asked.

            "Since George died. I buried him as per his wishes and I didn't have any desire to leave."

            "What happened?" She asked, trying to pose the question as delicately as possible.

            "Heart attack." She said softly. "We didn't see it coming." She sighed. "But he's with his family now and sooner or later, so will I."

            Gwen was shocked to see her aunt thinking so morbidly. "Please don't talk like that." She urged. "I don't want to lose another family member. I have so few left."

            Ann smiled at the genuine feeling obvious in Gwen's words. "Of course dear. It's just so hard now that he's gone."

            "I know what you mean." She said, thinking on her mother.

            "I didn't know Beorc had died until I saw her headstone. Do you know what happened?"

            "Aunt Minerva thinks it might have been death eaters."

            "Aunt Minerva?"

            "My godmother." Gwen replied.

            "Oh."

            "Yeah, she's been great. Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without her. She keeps me… level"

            Ann laughed. "You must get that temperament from your father."

            "Really, I thought my mom was the wild child."

            "Oh no. I didn't know Beorc very well, but she wasn't nearly as wild as your father was. He was always getting himself into trouble. He was fearless."

            Gwen smiled warmly on memories of her father. He was fearless and she felt for the first time since his death a closeness to him. She couldn't understand her own strange fearlessness and perhaps it was something inherited, or maybe even something that she learned from him when he was still alive.

Part Five

            Before Gwen wanted to leave it was almost the end of the summer. She had spent the warm, sunny months hanging out with Ann and the brothers Trois back and forth. She had visited all of the places on her mental checklist: the Arc de Triumph, the Eiffel Tower, Napoleon's tomb, the champagne caves, every chateaux in northern France, the cathedrals, the beaches, the mile long Tapisserie de Bayeux and finally the Louvre.

            She spent an entire week in the impressionists' wing of the gargantuan museum before she could move on. She spent a full hour gazing at the Mona Lisa, ignoring the bustle of people around her vying to get a closer look. She couldn't believe that so many beautiful things could all be contained under one roof.

            When she wasn't ogling the art she was lazing under an umbrella of the Café de la Lune in Reims with one of the brothers. They could all apparate as well, and enjoyed popping around with Gwen. Jerome was her confidant, trying to help her sort out her boy problems over a plate of poutin. Philippe was her drinking buddy (seventeen is legal in France, so don't get any bad ideas about Gwen's mores), taking her out to all of the best discotheques. Pierre was her man for fine cuisine and loved to test her palate on some of the most interesting dishes on the planet.

            Ann got to meet the brothers as well and considering that they lived quite close to each other decided it was about time to make some friends. If she was going to stay in France she might as well have good relations with some of the natives.

            Gwen had even taken tea with Madame Maxime, twice at the headmistresses request. She was happy to test her new language skills with the gracious hostess and found that Madame Maxime was the most polite creature she had ever met. Even when she screwed up on her pronunciation Maxime would not correct her unless Gwen asked her to. By the end of the summer she felt confident that Olympe, as she was now allowed to call her would remain a friend for the rest of her life.

            With heavy sighs she packed her bags again, folding each article of clothing three times over to delay the inevitable. The brothers sent her away with many parting gifts. Pierre gave her three bottles of wine and two of champagne, asking only that she save one of them for a special occasion. Jerome gave her a gorgeous replication of the Mona Lisa, whose enigmatic smile gazed out from the portrait's frame endlessly. Philippe compiled a photo album of all the discotheques they had visited. She especially loved the picture taken in the Suds Club, a dance club that filled with bubbles and foam while people danced the night away, soaking wet but completely happy.

            Ann was the hardest to say goodbye to. Her aunt had made a splendid last dinner for all of them, baking Gwen's favorite desserts, pumpkin pie and cheesecake and serving them first. She followed it up with a shot of apple brandy, great to clear the palate. She then served roast duck, boiled potatoes, asparagus almandine and sweet rice. They had a plain salad to cleanse the palate for appetizers. She served up tomatoes vinaigrette, a liver pate with crackers and a smorgasbord of cheese. They finished with more desserts, this time a mixed berry tart served warm with vanilla ice cream and a sliver of whipped cream.

            They sat and talked over coffee, fuller than they'd ever been. The brothers told funny stories to lighten the heavy mood of departure and were relieved when both Gwen and Ann laughed so hard that their luke-warm coffee shot out of their noses.

            But Gwen had to go. She walked slowly upstairs to grab her bags. She would apparate outside the Hogwart's gates and walk back up to the castle. She wouldn't have much time to prepare for classes, but she felt that with all the training Dumbledore had given her that she could handle it on the fly.

            She was standing at the bottom of the steps for ten full minutes before she walked back into the kitchen. She hugged the brothers, one by one, thanking them for the lovely gifts. She looked at Ann before she went to hug her and sighed.

            "You'll come back." Ann said. "You have to come back and visit again."

            Gwen cracked a brave smile. "I will." She said and squeezed her aunt tightly.

            She pulled back and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was gazing up at the skyline of Hogwarts, turrets sparkling in the setting sun.