On the Edge

I didn't want to speak to her, but I had no one else to turn to. No one else knew the truth. Placing my thumb on the bottom of my Mirrorphone, I spoke her name.

'Solène.'

As I expected, there was no reply. I began a silent count. I'd reached thirty before her face appeared in the mirror. For Solène, that was a fast response.

'Bonjour, Anaïse,' she said rapidly. 'You look worried, is something wrong?' Her expression, like her question, was a little too eager. I should have realised then, but I didn't. Instead, I told her.

'Madame Joubert has contacted me, Solène,' I said. 'Éloïse is missing, she didn't return home last night! She told her mother that she was here, that she was staying with me. But I haven't spoken to her for days. I don't know where she is, and I am worried, please tell me that you know something.'

Solène smiled. It was not a nice smile.

My concern about Éloïse's disappearance was a Vanishing charm in my stomach. Madame Joubert's call had filled me with dread. I had almost confessed, told her everything, but shame stilled my tongue. Solène had not known Éloïse for as long as I had, but I expected her to share my worries. She did not. Instead of expressing concern, she laughed gleefully.

'Oh, the precious thing!' Solène said. 'She fell for it, didn't she? She has gone to London to visit her beloved.'

'It was a cruel trick,' I said. 'I am ashamed.'

'Ashamed? She's the one who should be ashamed! Fixated on a Muggle singer,' said Solène scornfully. 'An English Muggle singer! All this letter-writing, it was ridiculous.'

'All?' I asked. 'How many letters did she write?'

'Enough to make a fool of herself,' Solène told me gleefully. 'And thanks to you, Anaïse, I will be able to show everyone how foolish she has been. I must tell Orianne and Françoise; I must tell everyone, au revoir.'

'No,' I began, horrified, but her smiling face vanished from the mirror. It was then that I finally realised what a fool I'd been. This was no "little trick", Solène would tell everyone what had happened, and Éloïse would be made to look foolish.

I knew Solène well enough to know that she would not respond if I called her back. I stared into the deep, dark, pool of regret in front of me. It was a pool I had helped to dig and fill. Why? Why had I allowed Solène to persuade me to play such a terrible trick on my oldest friend?

What we'd done was unforgiveable, but I had to try to make amends. I picked up my Mirrorphone.

'Éloïse,' I said urgently.

There was no reply.

For hours, I called, but Éloïse did not respond. I tried Solène. She, too, ignored me.

I paced across my room, trying to pluck up the courage to confess to Éloïse's parents. I wanted to tell them, but embarrassment and cowardice bound me to silence. I was afraid of what Éloïse would think of me, of what everyone else would think of me, and I was afraid of my own secrets, which I knew Solène would make public if I spoke up.

Finally, I plucked up the courage to do it. When I picked up my Mirrorphone I was determined, unstoppable. However, before I could speak Mme Joubert's name, my own rang out from the mirror. For a second I thought it was Éloïse. I answered eagerly.

'Bonjour, Éloïse. I'm so sorry, where are you?' I blurted the words desperately.

There was a moment's silence, and I found myself staring not at Éloïse, but at the startled face of Orianne.

'It's me.,' she said. Orianne looked as unhappy as I felt. 'You sound truly worried about Éloïse! Is it true, Anaïse?' she asked. 'Is what Solène told me really true?'

Unable to deny my involvement, I dully confirmed Solène's story.

Yes, I had told Solène of Éloïse's infatuation with the English Muggle singer whose only hit song, "Love across the World", had been her favourite. Éloïse had told me in confidence, and I had broken that confidence.

Yes, I had given Éloïse the parchment she'd used to write to her Muggle singer. Yes, I had enchanted the parchment, twinning it so that whatever Éloïse wrote was reproduced on a second sheet. I had read her first letter to the Englishman, and I had been embarrassed and appalled by what I'd done.

I had not wanted to read more, I'd wanted to confess, but Solène persuaded me to say nothing. MoreWorse, she convinced me to give the rest of the enchanted parchment to her.

'She wrote six letters to him,' Orianne told me.

'Six?' I said. 'Solène said there were more. I thought that Éloïse would give up after the first. Six? Really? I didn't think she was so obsessed.'

'You didn't know, did you?' Orianne asked carefully. Her face was white, and her lower lip trembled. 'Solène said you did, but I was certain that you wouldn't have agreed. Oh, Anaïse, I am so worried. What will she do?'

'Agreed? Agreed to what? What are you talking about?' I asked.

'Solène wrote back,' Orianne told me, the words pouring from her like a torrent. 'She has just told me! Solène replied to Éloïse, pretending to be her Englishman, writing words of love in his name. She told me that you knew, that you had agreed! But I didn't believe her. She believes that Éloïse went to London. But if she did, then now she will know the truth, that it was all a trick. Is it true that she has vanished? Where will she go, Anaïse? What will our poor Éloïse do? You know her best.'

'Merde!' I said. 'Solène has made a fool of Éloïse and me! Thank you for telling me, Orianne. Au revoir.'

Something inside me snapped. I had never been so angry. Breaking the connection, I Disapparated.

I don't know which one of her many friends Solène was speaking to when I arrived in her bedroom, but she was smirking. I snatched her Mirrorphone from her hand and hurled it across the room. Because of the charms on it, it didn't break. Angered by that fact, I hit it with a Blasting Curse. Shards of glass and splinters of wood flew everywhere. I was forced to Shield us both from the blast.

Solène opened her mouth, whether to protest or to try to apologise I do not know, because I didn't give her the chance to speak. I slapped her as hard as I could. To my surprise, she began to cry.

'What have you done?' I demanded. She simply sobbed.

I heard hurried footsteps on the stairs so, with another wave of my wand, I sealed her bedroom door.

'What have you done to us, to Éloïse? You vile, manipulative bitch!' I shouted.

'It was a joke!' She protested through her tears. Even as she began to protest, the red mark of my hand appeared on her cheek. 'It was just a joke.'

'No,' I yelled, 'People laugh at jokes. This wasn't funny. You have created a tragedy, not a comedy, and I have helped you!' I slapped her again.

'Solène!' The anxious voice belonged to her father. He was hammering at her door. Terrified, I Disapparated.

It was fortune, I suppose. Whether good or bad I am not sure, not yet.

Éloïse and I had shared a favourite spot in Muggle Paris. It was a place on the steps leading up to Sacré-Cœur, and that's where I went when I left Solène. I swear that, when I Disapparated, I had no idea where I was going. I knew that I needed to be somewhere to think, and my worries about Éloïse were uppermost on my mind. The steps were where my heart took me, not my head, I was lucky fortunate not to have Splinched myself.

It was incredibly foolish of me. It was broad daylight, and the place was full of Muggles. My arrival by Apparition startled them. I knew that I'd be in a lot of trouble, but I didn't care, because my instantaneous arrival had startled Éloïse, too. She was standing no more than two metres from me, looking out over the city. She turned at the noise.

'Anaïse,' she said sadly when she saw me. 'It is fitting, I suppose. Tell my parents that I am sorry. It is the only way! I killed him. I killed my love.'

Lifting the vial, she drank.

'No!' I screamed, but I was too late. I caught her as she collapsed, and tried to lower her gently to the ground. Everyone around me stared. I'm not sure what the Muggles thought was happening. Some screamed, while others applauded. Perhaps they thought they were watching some strange street show. That was when he arrived.

The man who knelt opposite me was tall and good-looking. I thought, perhaps, he was German, but I soon discovered that he was an Englishman. He pulled a black leather wallet from inside the long black coat he wore. Opening the wallet, he plucked out something that looked like a small stone—a Beozar! I watched him force Éloïse's mouth open and push the stone down her throat. She wheezed. He turned to me.

'You Apparated here, I heard you; you're a witch,' he said. 'Please tell me that you speak English.'

'A little,' I said. I stared at the foam dribbling from my friend's mouth. She was so still. 'She is not dead? You save her?'

'Not yet! The magical hospital in Paris, where is it?' he demanded.

I opened my mouth, trying to decide how to explain its location. He reached over Éloïse, put his hands on my cheeks, and forced me to look into his fierce and cold blue eyes. 'Don't try to tell me, we don't have time! I need to know now! Think about it, show me,' he ordered.

I remembered the hospital foyer from my last visit, stared into his face, and opened my mind to him.

I was thinking only of Éloïse, and so I put up no barriers. I let him see everything. As he plucked the information he needed from my brain, I saw him stagger. His anguish lasted an instant, then the steel returned. 'Pick up the vial and follow me,' he ordered. 'I'll probably need a translator.'

Vile? I thought I knew the word, but it seemed meaningless in context. Fortunately his downward glance showed me what he wanted. He lifted my beautiful friend Éloïse into his strong arms. I snatched up the almost empty éprouvette I'd seen her drink from. We both Disapparated, arriving in the hospital foyer side by side.

'Auror emergency,' he bellowed as we ran towards the reception desk. 'Poisoning victim!'

I provided a translation, not that it was needed. A Healer came running, another following closely behind. There was a popping noise behind me as someone else Apparated into the hospital foyer.

'I've pushed a Beozar down her throat,' he said. 'And Anaïse has what's left of the poison.' He stared at me. 'Anaïse,' he spoke my name again, pronouncing it perfectly. Most people do not, they call me Anaïs. He looked terrified. His eyes had lost their coldness.

'Thank you,' the Healer said as I handed him the remnants of the poison my friend had imbibed. His colleague was already levitating Éloïse away. 'Don't worry, child, we will take care of her.'

'I should go with her,' I said. 'I am her friend.'

'I don't think so,' a woman said firmly. I pushed my spectacles back up my nose and turned to see a woman who was everything I was not. The tall, slim, chic, and elegant blonde stood alongside a skinny little man with mousy brown hair; he was no taller than me.

'Gabrielle Delacour, Bureau des Aurors,' the woman announced. She sneered at me. 'You will come with me, mademoiselle Anaïse. I have a lot of questions...'

The little man held up his hand and Auror Delacour fell silent. 'Is this her, Stan?' the little man addressed the tall blond man who, like me, was following the Healers. 'Did she write the letters?' He, too, was British.

It was then that the remaining pieces fell into place. I was facing Aurors from both Britain and France, and Éloïse's last words had been "I killed him. I killed my love." As I finally realised how huge this tragedy was, I moaned in despair. I had been foolish; my actions made me responsible. I had taken a life.

'Yes, this is all my fault,' I told the little man. He stepped forward, and I felt my knees buckle.

'No, this isn't the girl we need to speak to. This is Anaïse Gras, a friend of Éloïse.' the tall man grabbed my waist and steadied me. 'She is prepared to take the blame...' his voice broke, and he sobbed. The little Englishman looked up at his tall colleague in astonishment. 'She blames herself, Den, but it's not her. Trust me. We're looking for another girl, someone called Solène Lapierre. She's the one who wrote the letters to Éloïse. Tell him where Solène lives, Anaïse. I can picture it, but I don't know the address.'

Wondering how he knew all this, I did as he asked.

'I know the place. I will take you to her, Denis,' Auror Delacour said. 'Take her into our office for questioning, please. I trust you to do this, as I must go on. Someone must tell Éloïse's parents that we have found their daughter, it should be me. Afterwards, I will join you.' She turned to address the man who was still holding me. 'Stan, you will stay with mademoiselle Anaïse. Take her statement.'

'Be gentle with Solène, Gabrielle,' Stan said. I could feel the tension in his voice. 'She is innocent, too. Or, rather, she's guilty only of being foolish, vain, and insensitive.' He shuddered.

'A man is dead,' Auror Delacour said.

'Anaïse has already discovered this; that's why she just confessed. But Solène doesn't know, not yet,' Stan told her. 'I know what they're going through, Gabi. Making them feel guilty won't help.'

'C'mon, Gabi,' said little Dennis. 'We can't do any more here. Stan gave her a Beozar; it's up to the Healers now. We have work to do. Keep us posted, Stan, and keep an eye on this girl... this... Anaïse.' He gave me a long, assessing look. 'And keep her safe. Don't... Just—don't!'

'She'll be safe with me,' Stan promised, releasing me.

The French Auror held out her arm, and the little Englishman grabbed it. They Disapparated.

The Healers had gone, taking Éloïse with them. We tried to follow, but the staff would not allow it. I argued with them, but they were insistent. It was obvious that Stan was unhappy with the Healers, so I translated for him.

'We not family, we no go wiz 'er. Zey must... analyser... I not know zee word... examine? zee poison and make zee antidote.' I explained. 'Zee Beozar saved 'er life, but now zey need to... to repair 'er... to make 'er well. She is safe; you saved 'er life.'

'I'm sorry, Anaïse, I am truly sorry. All I wanted was the location of this hospital.' There were tears in Stan's eyes as he spoke. There were tears in mine, too. Mine were for the tragedy, but he was un Auror britannique; I had no idea why he was crying.

'De quoi—What do you talk about? Why is you sorry?' I asked. I looked into his face, but he refused to meet my eyes. Instead, he looked around the foyer.

'Café, floor three.' he said, pointing to the sign next to the lifts. 'I didn't know I could read French. I will buy you a coffee, Anaïse.'

'iCafé eez a French word, and zee number ... trios.../i' I painted a 3 in the air with my finger. 'i...eez zee same in every language,/i' I reminded him.

I realised that I was smiling. How could I smile at such a time? I did not know, but he looked very sad, and I felt broken inside, so I let him escort me into the lift.

Despite his offer, the Auror britannique had only English Galleons, and he spoke no French. I ordered and paid for the coffees. I ordered us each a patisserie each, too. Seeing his horrified expression when he saw the tiny cup of black coffee I was given, I changed his order from un café to un café filtre.

'Merci,' he said, taking the tray from me. 'Lead on.'

I led him across to a vacant table.

'Tu parles français?' I asked.

'Bonjour, salut, je m'excuse, merci. That's all the French I know,' he admitted, his eyes clouded with sadness. 'You were asking me if I spoke French, weren't you?'

'Oui,' I said, smiling again. I was beginning to think that, so long as I talked to the handsome Englishman, I could keep my tears at bay.

He smiled. 'I know that one, too,' he admitted. He appeared nervous.

'You know café, also,' I said. 'And you know my name.' He was still refusing to look directly at me. Normally, I'd have remained quiet, simply watched. But my emotions were stretched to snapping. 'Why eez you so—triste—so—sad?' I asked. His face fell.

'Sorry—je m'excuse, Anaïse. You let me in. I saw more than I should, a lot more than you wanted me to see. All I wanted was the location of the hospital, but... It wasn't deliberate.' He placed his elbows on the table, covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, and sobbed. I reached across the table and wrapped my hand around his wrist.

'It is okay. I am zee imbécile,' I told him. 'I have caused so much sadness for Éloïse, 'er mozzer, and fazzer. I 'ave made 'er a killer and given you much pain. Will you 'ear my confession?'

'Your confession? You're worried about my pain?' he asked. 'Yes, of course you are. You would be; because that's the sort of person you are.'

After rubbing his eyes, he brought his hands down. He didn't look directly at me, but directed his remarks at my coffee.

'You don't know what happened in London. I know you don't, because I've seen what you do know. I've seen your regret. Don't blame yourself, Anaïse. I will tell you what I know and why you are not to blame. Then, perhaps, you can forgive me for what I've done.'

'I not understand...' I began. He held up his hand, closed his eyes, and spoke.

'You have known Éloïse for as long as you can remember. Do you really think that she would murder someone?'

'No,' I shook my head. 'But she confess. She say zat she kill him.'

'You told Solène about Tommy,' his eyes remained closed. 'You told Solène because Éloïse had been teasing you. Éloïse said that your hair is untidy, that you are shy and plain and you don't even try to take care of your appearance. You were hurt. But you didn't argue with your friend, because you don't do that. Instead you told Solène. She suggested that you encourage Éloïse to write the first letter, and that you enchant the paper to get a copy, so that you could tease her the way she had teased you.'

'How you know?' I began. His eyes still closed, he raised a hand. I fell silent.

'You let me in. Parts of you are still in my head. I know your secrets and worries. I'm sorry.'

He paused, and placed his head in his hands.

'As you've just discovered, Solène wrote back to Éloïse, pretending to be Tommy Harris. I don't know why she did that, nor do you. I'm certain that Dennis and Gabrielle will find out. Éloïse went to London, expecting Tommy to be pleased to see her, to be expecting her. He wasn't. Until Éloïse recovers, we can only speculate, but… We believe that she planned to bring him to Paris. She tried, but he resisted, and he was Splinched. She left half of him in London. He must have died instantly.'

'Merde!' I said.

'No, not murder; at least I hope that she won't be charged with murder. Murder requires intent.'

He'd mistaken my French curse for an English word. I did not interrupt to correct him.

'This was—I don't know what you'd call it—an accident? I've never heard of anyone dying from a Splinching. Perhaps the fact that he was a Muggle might have something to do with it. Bobbie might know. She's a Muggle, and she absolutely hates Side-along Apparition.'

I wondered who Bobbie was. A girlfriend, perhaps?

'You blame yourself, but where does the blame stop, Anaïse? Is this mess Éloïse's fault for trying to Side-along Apparate with Tommy in her arms? Is it Solène's fault for writing the letters that encouraged Éloïse to travel to London? Is it your fault for telling Solène?

'Oui,' I whispered.

'Or is it Éloïse after all? If she hadn't been horrible to you, if she hadn't upset you in the first place...'

'Non!' I protested.

Stan finally opened his eyes. A single tear trickled down his face.

'You blame yourself, Anaïse,' he said. 'It's natural, it's something we all do. You must not. Why must one person be to blame? My dad...' He hesitated, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped a sudden trickle of tears from his face. 'I'd forgotten, but when I was little, my dad used to tell me, "The world would be perfect if people weren't nasty to each other. The problem is that, often, they are. But worse than that, a lot of those times they don't even mean to be!" This... These events began as no more than a single flap of a butterfly's wing in Paris, Anaïse, and yet they created a storm in London, which swept back here. It has cost one life. It shouldn't cost any more.'

He shook his head sadly. 'I've been a fool, too. I need to confess.'

'Confess?' I asked.

'I know your secrets, Anaïse,' he said apologetically. Attempting to regain his composure, he took a bite from his oranais aux abricots and a swig of coffee.

'I used Leglimency to find this hospital,' he said. He moved his eyes up from the table, but focussed on my chin. It was as if he could not allow his eyes to meet mine. 'I looked into your mind. I'm sorry. I'm a good Leglimens. Invariably—do you know that word?—people try to stop me. I always have to use force. You didn't, you welcomed me in. Your concern for your friend made you open your mind. It was only a moment, but in that moment I saw… I saw more of you than you have ever let anyone see. I saw your secrets, Anaïse. That's how I can pronounce your name correctly. It's how I know what happened.'

He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes before continuing. 'I felt your grief and sorrow, and that was before you knew the whole story about Tommy!' He shook his head in despair. 'I can only imagine how you feel now you know everything. I also know that the image you see when you look in the mirror is not what I see sitting across this table from me.' He paused. 'And that has made me wonder if the person I see when I look in the mirror is the person you're looking at.'

I tried to grab his hand, but he pulled it away.

'Crap, that sounded like some soppy touchy-feely nonsense I'd use to try to get into your knickers. That's not what I want,' he stopped, a strange expression on his face. 'Damn, this is a lot harder than I expected. I'm sorry that I saw so much, Anaïse, and I'll understand if you never want to see me again after today... No, I'm still not saying the right thing. You... What I saw has made me hope that I'm not guilty myself. I...'

He finally looked me in the eye, and spoke in a rush. My English is not so good that I could follow every word of his rapid confession, but there was a connection between us. Despite not knowing the words, I felt their meaning, and I understood.

'I loved my dad. He was a good man, and he was Muggle-born. During Tom Riddle's time, he managed to get some papers to prove otherwise. Almost everyone knew that they were fake, but most people liked him, so no one asked any awkward questions. Before I went to Hogwarts, he warned me, he told me that there were kids at school I should avoid. But a lot of them were in the cool gang, and I wanted to be part of the cool gang. Dad wrote to me, he tried to warn me off. But there was a girl, too. I wanted to impress her, so I told her, and her friends, the truth about my dad. I told them the names of my Muggle grandparents, too.'

His tears were flowing freely.

'Within two months, they were all dead. I've never told anyone this before, Anaïse. I betrayed my family, they're dead and it's my fault.'

'But the girl you told, she did not 'ave to tell anyone else. And the 'ate-filled people 'oo killed your family. They all had their own choices to make.'

'I've never told anyone this,' he repeated. 'Not even my mother.'

'You must,' I told him, shocked. 'If you wish, I will stand by your side when you do. If... If you will stand wiz me when I face Éloïse and 'er parents.'

'I will,' he promised.