Chapter 105. Following in the footsteps of Gilles de Rais

The hot summer evening was slowly fading in Devon. The fireball of the sun seemed to drown in the bright orange colors of the sunset, painting the skies in bizarre shades. A light breeze brought coolness, slightly fluttering the half-bloomed blossoms of wild roses by the roadside.

In Burrow's living room, several people were leaning over the table, enthusiastically studying some documents. Ron Weasley, with his perpetually tousled red hair, sat next to Harry Potter, whose famous lightning-like mark on his forehead moved slightly when he frowned.

"It's obviously a fake," said Hermione, throwing away one of the papers. Her thick curls fell over her face, but she impatiently pushed them away. — Look, there's a different shade of ink here. Someone was trying to clean up the initials.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, leaning closer. "Indeed, if you look at it like this..." he turned the document slightly, "the letters seems to be crossed out and corrected to... Frankenstein? What kind of nonsense is this?

Ron laughed:

"Maybe she's like Frankenstein's Monster? A joke of humor, nothing personal!"

Hermione stared indignantly at her red-haired friend:

"Ron! Don't talk nonsense! This girl must be a victim."

"Come on, Hermione," Harry chuckled. — Big deal, I was joking once.

"It says in her biography that she loves music and literature..." Hermione continued, looking down at the other papers. "Oh! But this looks like a lipstick mark."

She pointed to a strange crimson spot on the corner of the paper. Ron grimaced, "Ugh, don't tell me that this Ellen... or whatever her name is?".

"He probably powders his nose a lot," Harry grinned. "Maybe she's not a victim at all, but some kind of adventurer?"

Hermione rolled her eyes:

"You boys don't understand anything at all. Let's just focus on the case."

She went back to studying the documents, ignoring the whispers of her friends.

For a while there was silence, broken only by the rustle of turning pages. Hermione's frown deepened as she studied the papers.

"Something's obviously wrong here," she finally said. "There are too many inconsistencies and suspicious little things."

"Like what?" Harry looked up from his contemplation of the hefty stack of documents.

"Well, look for yourself," Hermione turned one of the pages to her friends. "It says here that Ellen Frankenstein was born on April 23, 1978. But she is twenty-six years old on her driver's license, which does not fit in with the date of birth."

Ron scratched the back of his head:

"Well, could it have been a typo? Or she, this... impostor, deliberately confused everything."

"Maybe", Hermione nodded. "But there are other oddities. Look, here her profession is "musician". And in her resume she is listed as a "translator from ancient languages.""

"So what?" Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe she has several jobs?"

"That's not so strange in itself," Hermione agreed. "But there is clearly a certain personality inconsistency here. On the one hand — a creative nature, on the other — a rational translation mindset."

She shook her head and put a few sheets aside.

"And what is this?" Harry pulled a small book towards him, which looked very shabby. ""One day in the life of Nero"?"

"It seems to be a diary or an autobiography", Hermione carefully opened the book. "Don't you see what strange markings are made in the margins?"

She showed her friends the small handwritten lines around the edges of the pages.

"It looks like remarks in an ancient dialect," Harry remarked, peering at the ornate scribble.

Hermione nodded.:

"It is quite possible. But the most curious thing is that some of these attributions are clearly made in fresher ink. It's like someone else has been working on the book recently."

She slammed the battered volume shut and leaned back in her chair, deep in thought.

There was a thoughtful silence in the living room. Ron was absently turning one of the pages over in his hands, folding and straightening its corners. Harry was scratching the bridge of his nose, as if thinking about something. And Hermione didn't take her eyes off the battered book lying in the middle of the table.

Finally, Ron couldn't stand it anymore:

"Listen, maybe she's just... well, some kind of eccentric crazy old lady? Like that crazy Professor Trelawney? I decided to fantasize about Ancient Rome, makes friends with lipstick and all that."

Harry burst out laughing, but Hermione frowned:

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. If it was that simple, why would the Prime Minister hide her here? And it's obviously not for nothing that her documents turned out to be in such a wild mess."

"Yeah, that's right," Harry drawled, getting serious again. "There's definitely something fishy here. Maybe she's some kind of... spy? Or some kind of mercenary?"

He picked up the book and flipped through its pages.

"Judging by these notes of hers, she is clearly a very well-read person and versed in all sorts of ... wisdom, or something. She's probably a high-flying intellectual."

Hermione nodded.:

"And at the same time he behaves quite... extravagantly. All this pomade stuff. Oh, I just feel like we're missing something important!"

She suddenly started up and leaned forward, slamming her palm on the table:

"Wait! But there must be a clue here! In these documents, in her belongings — surely there are some hints or clues that can shed light on her identity!"

Hermione excitedly scooped up all the papers in front of her and began to study them again. Ron and Harry just looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders, and prepared to wait for their friend to find a new clue to this confusing mystery.

Hermione was engrossed in studying the documents when Harry suddenly slapped his forehead:

"Wait a minute! I remembered something very strange about Ellen when we were in Little Whinging."

Ron and Hermione stared at him in unison.

"Come on, come on, tell me," Hermione encouraged.

Harry's lips curled:

"You see, Ellen behaved strangely when we were about to leave the Dursleys' house."

"What do you mean, 'weird'?" Ron frowned.

"Well, I looked in the closet under the stairs where I used to live. It's just... nostalgia tormented me, or something. And then Ellen came up to me."

Harry fell silent, apparently remembering that episode.

"Come on, Harry, go on!" Hermione couldn't stand it.

"She suddenly started pretending to be some kind of artist," Harry said. "She waved her hands and poked me right in the nose with a rose! A red, velvet rose that kind of came out of nowhere."

Ron whistled, and Hermione straightened up, genuinely interested.

"And she said so dramatically: "fire is an insidious element. It needs not only to be curbed, but also to be loved. And then he can become the greatest force capable of melting any chains and illuminating the way even through pitch darkness," Harry quoted. "She was saying something else at the time, but I hardly listened to her, it stunned me so much."

Hermione swallowed convulsively.:

"So she defiantly staged a whole performance? Just like that…"

"...like crazy," Ron finished for her.

Hermione gave him a stern look:

"It doesn't matter. The main thing is that her behavior was too pretentious and affected, right, Harry?"

He nodded back. Hermione stared at the documents again, considering the new oddities in Ellen's behavior.

Hermione was silent for a while, thinking about Harry's story about Ellen's strange behavior. Ron waited patiently, leaning against the back of a chair. Suddenly Mordred burst into the living room, wearing a red jacket and jeans, with flowing blond hair.

"What are you talking about?" She said, glancing around the room. Her face was clouded by a sullen grimace.

"We're discussing a mysterious girl named Ellen," Harry explained. "And her more than strange behavior."

"Oh, this adventurer?" Mordred snorted. "One of those bitchy aristocrats from a rich family, I suppose?"

She laughed out loud, slamming her fist into her palm:

"Yes, your friend is clearly not deprived of eccentricity! It would be fitting for her to become another Mad Queen somewhere in an imaginary dreamland!"

"Don't judge so rashly, Mordred," Hermione snapped. "Her antics are just a mask that hides a much deeper secret.

Mordred raised an eyebrow:

"Really? And what do you suppose, you walking encyclopedia? Is she a revolutionary with dreams of terrorist attacks against the whole world? Or the hidden mummy of an ancient pharaoh, eager to revive his lost civilization?"

She burst out laughing, slapping her thigh:

"Come on, I'm kidding! This girl is most likely just a crazy old woman with a thirst for attention!"

Hermione pursed her lips, but said nothing, turning back to the documents. The atmosphere in the living room was still tense with a sense of some unsolved mystery.

Hermione suddenly straightened up abruptly, not taking her gaze off Mordred. Her eyes darted between the documents and the knight.

"Wait a minute..." she drawled, squinting. "But there may be a connection here!"

Mordred gave her a puzzled look:

"What are you talking about, encyclopedia?"

"Look!" Hermione pulled Ellen's driver's license towards her. "It says here that she's about five feet tall, and... and yours, Mordred, if I'm not mistaken, is about the same?"

The knight frowned, nodding:

"Well, yes, about that. But what does this have to do with…"

"Wait, wait!" Hermione interrupted, hastily sorting through other papers. "Ellen was born on April 23rd, and you, Mordred... oh my God!"

She stared at Ron's Servant in amazement. He whistled:

"What… Were they really born on the same day?!"

Mordred's lips curled:

"Why would I? I was born ten centuries ago."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed fervently. "Ellen is clearly some kind of reincarnation or reincarnation of you, Mordred!"

There was a stunned silence. Harry scratched the back of his head:

"This is, of course, somehow… I don't even know what to say."

"Bullshit!" Mordred snapped. "What kind of reincarnation? You made a mistake with your calculations, girl."

But Hermione had already pounced on the documents again with burning eyes:

"No, no, it all fits together! Her behavior, this demonstrative game... it's like Ellen doesn't remember who she really is! Split personality, that's what it is!"

Ron scratched the tip of his nose:

"So it's like she's Mordred, only in a modern guise? Brainwashed?"

"Well, yes!" Hermione happily confirmed. "Some renegade black magician must have pulled off this treacherous business!" And the Prime Minister managed to unravel the trail and…"

She stopped in mid-sentence. Harry looked from her to Mordred and back again, confused.

And the knight just rolled her eyes and said:

"You three brainless blockheads are completely unbearable…"

But Hermione did not let up, her brain was turning over new and new turns of thought.

"Wait!" Suddenly she exclaimed, clutching her temple. "What if it's not reincarnation?" What if Ellen is... a distant descendant of Mordred?"

There was silence, during which everyone digested this new assumption. Harry was the first to break the silence:

"But is that possible?" I mean, are we talking about the events of almost a thousand and a half years ago?"

"Nothing is impossible for the wizarding world," Hermione declared with the air of a professional lecturer. "It is quite possible that somewhere along the maternal line, Mordred's blood has continued for centuries. Perhaps even secretly, incognito."

She waved her hand, getting carried away with her own theory:

"And so, centuries later, the genes of an ancient family suddenly reawakened in this Ellen! Hence her extravagant role, thirst for attention and artistic antics!"

Ron whistled:

"Holy shit... if that's true, then our crazy girl is actually kind of royal?"

"That's right!" Hermione nodded vigorously. "A distant relative of King Arthur himself! That's why her paperwork is so... confusing."

She glared at Mordred again.:

"And you probably didn't even realize that your descendant could be a modern girl? Family secrets, all the cases…"

Mordred only snorted skeptically when she heard Hermione's theory about Ellen as a descendant of an ancient family:

"For God's sake, girl! Are you completely out of your mind with your delusional speculations?" She stepped forward, frowning sternly. "Why on earth would I suddenly become the progenitor of an entire dynasty? I didn't leave any offspring behind!"

Her words hung in deathly silence. Hermione swallowed nervously, her mouth slightly open. Ron blinked, dumbfounded.

"That is,… No kids? At all?" He muttered.

Mordred threw up her hands in exasperation:

"Of course not, you idiot! I was a knight, a warrior who stood above all small human attachments!"

She lifted her chin proudly:

"My hands have shed too much blood to hold a baby on them. I had neither the time nor the desire for such nonsense."

"But... theory..." said Hermione, looking disappointed.

Mordred crossed her arms over her chest:

"Forget about your crazy theory, girl. I couldn't have any secret ancient clan. So this Ellen of yours is definitely not my distant relative!" She tossed a battered book of Ellen's personal belongings onto the table. "So you can continue to puzzle over the identity of this crazy adventurer!"

With these words, Mordred turned around and proudly walked out of the living room, leaving the three friends at a loss and with a new riddle in their hands.

Before Mordred could leave, Jeanne Alter had already sedately entered the living room. The trio of friends watched her with attentive eyes.

"I heard you were discussing a certain Ellen and her strange behavior," Jeanne said in a low but authoritative voice, so unusual for a young girl.

Hermione nodded dumbfounded:

"Y-yes, that's right. Her documents are full of inconsistencies, and her antics are worthy of a madwoman."

"Besides, she looks... strikingly like you, Jeanne", Harry remarked, giving Jeanne a careful look.

Jeanne raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkled:

"Really? This is extremely... interesting."

"If you look closely, the resemblance is really striking," Hermione put in, comparing Jeanne with Ellen's documents on the table. "The same oval face, eye shape, hair color…"

"Wow, that's right! Maybe this Ellen is your distant, distant relative, Jeanne?"

Jeanne grinned, which made her expression harden for a moment:

"Alas, this is extremely unlikely. You see, I..." she paused significantly, "have left no descendants."

There was a deathly silence in the living room. The three friends looked at each other dumbfounded.

"So... you..." Ron stammered.

"She's the Maid of Orleans, you idiot,— Hermione shushed him, covering her mouth with her hand.

Jeanne nodded, her gaze warming:

"That's right, friends. It is hardly surprising that a warrior who has lived such a short but stellar life has not acquired children and household members." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "However, this does not explain the reason for my resemblance to the mysterious Ellen. The idea of consanguinity disappears by itself."

Hermione frowned, biting her lips:

"Then... maybe she has something else to do with you, Jeanne? Was this Ellen... somehow... trying to put on your persona?"

Jeanne d'Ark Alter remained silent, raising her eyebrow again and mysteriously twinkling her eyes. The trio of friends waited expectantly, catching her every gesture. There was a tense silence in the living room, broken only by the soft crackling of logs in the fireplace.

"Yes, you're like Gilles ..." she began, but did not have time to finish.

Suddenly the door burst open and Mrs. Weasley burst into the room — a small, energetic woman with a friendly but stern face.

"And what are you doing sitting down, idlers?" she muttered, looking at everyone with a tenacious gaze. "Don't you see how much work there is before Bill and Fleur's wedding? Everything must be prepared properly!"

She sighed noisily and began to give orders.:

"Jeanne, darling, will you help me with the decoration of the courtyard for the ceremony? Your taste is simply priceless!"

Jeanne Alter nodded majestically:

"By all means, kind hostess. I will be happy to assist in this matter."

"That's great," Mrs. Weasley exhaled loudly, putting her hands on her hips. Then she pointed at Harry. "And you, young man, look after Ellen! Keep her company, make sure our mysterious guest is okay."

Harry nodded too, casting a quick glance in the direction of the frozen Jeanne.

"Ron, Hermione, you'd better go to the kitchen and help Dad and the twins put everything in its place," Mrs. Weasley continued to give instructions.

Ron leaned against the table, feigning extreme exhaustion:

"But maaam! We just did…"

"No buts!" His mother cut him off. "The wedding is in a couple of days, so everything should be perfect! Do you understand?"

Ron sighed resignedly and trudged towards the exit after Hermione. Harry also reluctantly got up, casting one last intrigued glance at Jeanne Alter. She only smiled back at him meaningfully, and something mysterious and alluring flashed in her eyes.