Nothing is mine.

Katie goes to get own wand with her maman and her godmothers in the penultimate chapter of A Taste of Ismenian Water. Probably wise of me to mention, at this point, that you can read one chapter ahead if you're on the Discord, so, this being the penultimate chapter...

The Tiny Katiepillar and the Great Big Tree

'Coat.' Fleur held out the thick, fleece-lined bright yellow jacket. 'It will be raining in Britain, so you will need this, little chick.'

Katie pouted but stuck her arms through the sleeves, letting Fleur straighten it across her shoulders and do up the big dark red buttons. 'Are we going now, maman? What about my godmothers?'

'We don't want to miss our international portkey slot,' Fleur said. 'But your godmothers are bringing the portkey and—' she brushed one of the cherry branches aside and checked the spinning glass cogs of the clock on the wall '—they are not quite late.'

Katie squirmed. 'If we miss it, does that mean I can't get a wand?'

'We would have to go another day,' Fleur murmured, 'but do not fret, baby bird, we will not miss it.' She paused on the last button and tapped Katie's chest. 'Is your opal necklace under there?'

Her daughter nodded. 'Yes, maman. I remembered it.'

'Good girl.' Fleur fastened the last button and pulled up the hood.

Katie scowled and swept it down. 'Non, maman.'

'You will get wet hair…'

She folded her arms and turned her nose up. 'We won't be outside long enough for my hair to get wet; you said we were portkeying in and apparating almost right to the wand shop.'

'It might be raining hard.' Fleur smiled as Katie's lower lip crept out a little further. 'Have it your way, baby bird, but no complaining about wet hair later.'

'There won't be any wet hair, maman.'

Footsteps padded across the patio and a soft knock came at the door.

'Go on,' Fleur said, sweeping her own long black coat about her shoulders. 'Open the door.'

Katie tugged the handle down and pulled it back.

Three pairs of grey eyes softened as they dipped to Fleur's daughter.

'Bonjour petite filleule,' they chorused.

'Ready to go?' Isobel asked. 'We like your bright yellow coat, it's very cute.'

'We do,' Celine said. 'Right, sister?'

'Absolutely.' Colette held out a slim wooden bar marked with a golden lion. 'We should probably leave quickly; Celine spent ages in the bathroom again and now we're tight on time.'

'I did not, Isobel took longer before me.'

'No, it was my turn to go first and you were in the way,' Isobel retorted. 'I took longer because of you.'

Celine shook her head. 'You were asleep.'

'Sister—'

'You were—'

Colette sighed. 'Sisters, we're going to be late.'

They turned back to Fleur. 'We are ready.'

'Take my hand—' Fleur caught sight of the slight bump on her daughter's hip. 'Katrina, you cannot bring your papa's wand with you, go put it back upstairs.'

Katie's green eyes widened and her hand flew to her side. 'Pardon, maman, I forgot it was there!' She scrambled up the stairs.

'Silly little chick,' Fleur murmured, a soft, warm, smile spreading across her lips.

'How much does she know?' Isobel asked.

'She asked us about her papa yesterday,' Celine said. 'But we don't know what's safe to tell her.'

Fleur narrowed her eyes. 'I told her that her papa is Henri Delacour, and sacrificed himself to save her, but never came back.'

The Duforts exchanged a long sombre look.

'Nothing after—'

'There was nothing after that,' Fleur snapped, a soft heat simmered deep in her bones. 'He never came back. The man that did was not him anymore.' Her heart squirmed at the thought of that last red rose. 'Maybe he thought he was, but he was not; he was twisted by the magic of the ritual; he gave up on loving us and craved la folie instead. If he had ever had the slightest idea that we had survived, he would have hurt us to have that madness again.'

Celine studied the golden lion on the portkey. 'Fleur—'

'Non,' she hissed as Katie's footsteps stomped across the ceiling. 'Mithras was not him; he is dead, burnt, and I am glad. If I saw him again, I would only burn him again.'

If there was any of Harry left beneath the surface of Mithras, he would have come back to us, but he did not. She snagged Katie by the arm as she bounced toward the door and redirected her to her shoes. I was right to make myself Vert and do what I did. Mithras was something else.

Her daughter stuffed her feet in and wrestled her laces into lopsided bows. 'Ready!' She grabbed Fleur's hand.

The Duforts took each others' and Celine held her arm out toward Katie.

'Hold on very carefully, baby bird,' Fleur said, taking Isobel's hand. 'It will be a big pull, a lot more than when I apparate you.'

Katie grabbed hold of Celine's hand, wiggling her fingers through hers and clutching tight.

'Sororité,' Isobel whispered.

The portkey yanked them forward and the cherry boughs and the glass clock swirled away; it spat them out into a small square marble room.

'Captains. Just on time.' A petite brunette in a tight red auror's jacket leant on the narrow arch out into the bustling atrium of the British Ministry of Magic, a thin piece of glass in one hand and her wand in the other. 'Miss Delacour.' She measured Fleur up with a wary air, straightening the golden rose pinned to her lapel. 'And…' Her eyes widened.

'Captain Spinnet,' Isobel murmured. 'We're in a bit of a rush, so if you would…'

'Right…' Captain Spinnet's gaze lingered on Katie. 'Katrina… that's long for Katie, isn't it?'

Fleur stepped in front of Katie, narrowing her eyes. 'My daughter is nothing to do with you.'

Katie clung to her hand. 'Maman,' she whispered. 'Who is she?'

Captain Spinnet twitched. 'Sorry, I… you're free to go through. Don't miss the portkey time to return to France.' She turned on her heel and hurried out.

The Duforts exchanged a swift look.

'Can you put your hood up, petite filleule?' Celine asked. 'Just for a short bit.'

Katie pouted. 'But—'

'Katrina,' Fleur murmured. 'Just for a little bit, s'il te plaît.'

'Okay, maman.' Her daughter swept her hood up. 'Can we go to the wand place now?'

Colette tugged the hem of the hood a little further forward. 'We'll go straight there, Katie.'

'Diagon Alley,' Fleur said. 'A short way down from Gringotts's steps.'

'Meet at the steps,' Isobel said. 'We should stay close.'

'Ready, Katie?' Fleur gave her daughter's hand a small squeeze.

Katie nodded, a nervous little glint in her wide eyes. 'Will there be lots of people, like Paris?'

'This is a busy street, so there will be even more people than when we were in Paris.' Fleur cupped her cheek with one hand. 'But we will all be there with you and we cannot come all the way here and not get you your wand, can we?'

Her daughter shook her head. 'Okay, maman.'

'Hold on tight, baby bird.' Fleur apparated them out into gentle drizzle on the white marble steps.

The Duforts appeared on the stairs below before the thrumming crowd of wizards and witches bustling back and forth in and out of all the shops upon the alley.

Katie's grip tightened on Fleur's hand. 'There are so many people, maman. It's so loud.'

'Not as loud as you, little chick.'

'Mamaaaan,' she whined. 'I'm not loud.'

'Come on, mon poussin,' Fleur said. 'Stay with me and keep hold of my hand; we do not want to lose you in all these people, n'est-ce pas?'

'Non.' She shivered. 'There's so much magic, maman.'

Fleur led her down the steps one by one, letting Katie stare around at Diagon Alley with wide green eyes as they went. The Duforts drifted in front, parting the crowd, but as the wizards and witches melted away, an auror in a worn, stained red jacket stood his ground.

Neville Longbottom. Fleur plucked her wand from her waist and drew Katie back behind her.

'You go get our pretty little goddaughter her wand,' Celine murmured. 'We will take a walk with an old colleague if need be.'

The Duforts took a step forward together, slipping their hands into the pocket of their blue and gold robes.

Neville's jaw clenched and he turned, slinking away into the crowd.

'Or not,' Colette said.

Isobel tracked him through the crowd with eyes as sharp as steel. 'He finally did something smart.'

'Come on, little chick,' Fleur murmured, leading her through to the door to Ollivander's. 'This is it.' She let go of Katie's hand and pointed at the door. 'Go on, in you go. The wands won't come out here and find you.'

Katie shuffled her feet and reached for Fleur's hand. 'Maman…?'

'We'll go in together,' Fleur said, twisting the handle. 'Ready?'

Her daughter nodded.

Fleur drew the door open and ushered Katie inside, holding the door for the Duforts, but they shook their heads and huddled in the entrance instead, blocking the way.

Towering shelves piled with countless small slender wand boxes sat all around the walls of the room, looming over the small desk and the thin, silver-haired figure of Ollivander.

'Welcome,' Ollivander said in a voice as thin as paper. 'Is she looking for her first wand?'

'Yes,' Katie mumbled, edging behind Fleur as the door thudded shut.

Ollivander drifted out from behind the desk, quiet as a ghost. 'Where to begin?' His pale eyes swept over Fleur, lingering on her wand. 'I recall your wand, Madame Delacour, from all those years ago when we last and first met. An unusual combination, rosewood and veela hair, beautiful within and without, and yet beauty can be such a cruel mistress… I could craft something similar for your daughter if you wish, but I prefer to follow my own intuition rather than copy the works of others.' Deep wrinkles creased his forehead and he straightened the golden rose pin upon the breast of his robes. 'Let me see…'

Fleur tucked her wand away and dipped her hand into her pocket.

'Maman, look,' Katie whispered. 'He has a golden rose pin. He likes roses too.'

Golden roses are not my roses, little chick. My roses were always red.

Ollivander paused before a stack of neat black wand boxes, running his fingers across the small labels. 'For those who know some of the deeper mysteries of magic, which a wandcrafter must by trade, some things are worthy of true reverence, even and maybe especially if the price is dear. I make keys, Miss Delacour, keys for a wizard and witch to open up their heart and let their dearest wishes pour out. Imagine,' he whispered, 'making such a key for the whole world. Imagine how it must have felt to see it come to fruition. Imagine...'

I would imagine that price first, if I were you.

Fleur cleared her throat and pulled the small glass vial from her pocket. 'Perhaps this might be of help to you, Mr Ollivander?'

Ollivander's pale eyes sharpened and he swept across, plucking it from Fleur's grip with his long fingers. 'Ah, a vial… how strange… but perhaps, not so strange. Maybe, after all these years, I should try and make another...' He held the vial up to the light. 'Phoenix tears, given willingly, and in both great sorrow and great hope.'

'Katie was cursed when she was little; the phoenix tried to heal her, but could not. We kept the tears just in case they were important one day.'

'They were intended for your daughter?' Ollivander closed his hand around the vial. 'Then I think that settles it, I have a feeling… a liquid core… but maybe… If you would, Madame Delacour, may I ask for three strands of your hair?'

Fleur wound three hairs around three fingers and ripped them out, ignoring the flash of pain.

'Maman?' Katie mumbled.

Ollivander cupped them in his palms. 'Yes, I think this is the way to go… but a wand needs a wood, and a wand like this should have the right wood.' He crouched down. 'Would you like to test some woods for me, Miss Delacour? You only need to touch them and tell me which ones feel warmest.'

She tugged her hood back and gave him a shy nod.

'But which wood to start with…?' Ollivander stared down into Katie's bright green eyes and smiled a faint sad smile, revealing crooked white teeth. 'Holly, I think.' He straightened up. 'Yes,' he whispered, wandering away behind the counter toward the backroom. 'I'm sure of it. Holly. Power through sacrifice.'

Fleur's heart trembled. Sacrificed to a cruel sun. A hot sharp tangle of guilt snarled about her heart. Tu me manques, mon cœur. Je suis désolée.

Katie wrapped her arms around her waist. 'Maman,' she pleaded, burying her face in Fleur's side.

'It is okay, my sneaky little chick,' Fleur murmured. 'You focus on getting your new exciting wand, do not fret about your maman.'

'Je t'aime, maman,' her daughter whispered. 'Je t'aime énormément.'

Fleur bent and pressed a kiss to the crown of Katie's head. 'Je sais, mon petit ange.'

Katie screwed her face up into a small frown, a fierce glimmer of yearning in her green eyes. 'No more secrets, maman. They just make you sad.'

Fleur sighed. No more secrets, little chick? Perhaps it is time I told you everything before you go to Beauxbatons and hear anything about Mithras there.

'Not now,' she murmured. 'But tomorrow, we can go anywhere you want and I will tell you everything. Some of it is… not happy, and that is your maman's fault, but in the end it did not turn out so terrible, not so long as I have you, non?'

A huge bright smile spread across her daughter's face. 'It will be happy, maman!' she chirped. 'Je te le promets!'

Ollivander appeared from the backroom. 'Holly it is,' he whispered. 'I rarely feel such surety, but to make certain, please, Madame and Miss Delacour, step back here for a moment and let me conduct a couple of tests. I will have to ask Miss Delacour for a drop of blood…'

'Katie?' Fleur asked. 'It will only be a little prick on your finger.'

'I want a really good wand—' her daughter nodded '—like my papa's!'

The ghost of a smile passed across Ollivander's face. 'Oh I think you will do great things with this wand, Miss Delacour. Great and beautiful things.'

AN: The linktree has the Discord link...

linktr . ee / mjbradley