CHAPTER: 5 ROYAL GUESTS AT THE ORPHANAGE
"November arrived quickly since that day, and the relatively mild summer of August gave way to a much wetter and colder climate. The weather was not really suitable for walks, and the pavement, still soaked with rainwater and thus made slippery, became at times very dangerous for the few brave souls braving the coldness of autumn. Yet, a convoy was an exception to this rule and was quietly advancing through the almost deserted roads of London. Several men on horseback and in military attire formed a complex formation around a carriage richly decorated and lined with motifs and other decorations carved with a master's hand and covered with a thin layer of gold. Even the least perceptive of individuals could easily understand that the people inside were not just anyone, especially since the coat of arms embedded in the doors of the carriage left no doubt as to the identity of one of the occupants. Failure to recognize the coat of arms of the royal family of Great Britain was almost sacrilege to the king's subjects. Yet it was not to be him. The regiment in charge of the protection of the mystery individual in the carriage was certainly important and made up of a dozen men, but the movements of King George III or even his wife, Queen Charlotte, required more soldiers to ensure their protection.
In truth, it was none other than the royal princess Elisabeth of Hanover, one of the many daughters of the royal couple, who was going on this day to an orphanage in which her parents had invested a certain amount of money to improve the facilities. 'A gesture to give oneself an excellent image with the population,' she had quickly understood by obediently accepting this request. Times were hard for everyone, and in such a crisis, every little gesture mattered, and even this kind of idea could serve her parents. At least, it had to be an idea of her mother, who had always liked to take care of children. Her father, the king, would never have had such an idea in these times of war as to worry about the fate of some orphans, especially since lately, he was excessively angry and certainly not concerned with the well-being of these children. Nevertheless, it was finally she who was appointed as the representative of the royal family to this orphanage, and to tell the truth, she had to admit that she was pretty and therefore perfect for this role.
The princess was indeed a lovely twenty-seven-year-old woman with long brown hair held in a complicated bun and skin as white as porcelain. For the occasion, Elisabeth had adorned herself with her most beautiful clothes, not necessarily the most expensive, even if the money she owned, coming directly from the taxes of British subjects, assured her a consequent income. Her scarlet red taffeta dress with various floral motifs had at least the merit of highlighting her feminine figure, especially her voluptuous chest thanks to her corset. Even in front of orphans, one had to present oneself to their advantage. This sentiment could also have been expressed for the two women accompanying her. Although they had been in their forties for a long time, they nevertheless retained all the freshness and candor of their younger years. The only detail that suggested they had experienced more in their lives was perhaps the dresses they both wore, making them look slightly like meringues: dresses with such wide baskets had long been out of fashion. Even the gray wigs they wore, yet still in vogue a few years ago, were no longer in fashion now. One could easily have thought that they had both ceased to evolve since the 1780s, but their shared history may have been the cause.
'You seem pensive, my dear,' one of the two remarked. Turning her head towards her interlocutor, she stared at her for a few seconds before smiling kindly to dispel the visible worry on her face.
'Do not worry about me,' she reassured her in almost perfect French. 'I was just thinking about visiting this orphanage and all that it entails for my parents. Fear nothing; everything will be fine. You'll see that it's not that bad, and then Louise-Elisabeth and I are here to support you.'
The other woman, named Louise-Elisabeth, approved the words of her friend by smiling in turn. This must have been true after all: to be accompanied by a marquise and a princess who had already performed this task many times when they lived in the very heart of the royal court of France could only be beneficial to her. And then, there was no risk of anything happening to her: orphans do not bite, and the building itself that she was heading to had undergone transformations to ensure the safety of its visitors. And we should not forget that she had in her company one of the best witches of her time: Princess Marie-Louise de Lamballe.
Witchcraft was indeed an area unknown to many and was poorly regarded among the population. Three-quarters, in any case, denied its existence, and the remaining quarter were either witch families living in their country or people with a family member being a wizard. It was true that the royal family and its ministers were aware of the existence of sorcerers, but all had to remain silent, under some spell preventing them from disclosing anything about them in exchange for a lot of gold from the Minister of Magic for them to keep this secret. In any case, announcing to its citizens that witches and wizards still lived among them no longer had the same effect as before, except to make the British question the state of health of the people governing them.
It had to be admitted that wizards were no different from normal people; most even lived like any English citizen. Some were even believers and practiced religion like the 'muggles,' like Marie-Louise, who in Elizabeth's eyes was undoubtedly one of the most devoted Catholics she had ever seen.
'It is amusing to see you question our community in such a situation,' said Marie-Louise, bringing her out of her daydream.
'Ho... How do you know? Are you able to read minds?' Elisabeth questioned her once the shock had passed.
'Legilimency is not exactly the act of reading someone's mind. It turns out to be a lot more complex, but explaining it to you would take much of my time, and I'm not sure we'd finish explaining it before we get to this orphanage,' she replied, drawing an amused smile.
'You sighed, Louise-Elisabeth. 'Your abilities will always amaze me, even if they have proven decisive for our survival.'
To be decisive, they were, and it is surely not Marie-Louise who would tell her otherwise. Who knows what could have happened to them if she had not been a witch? They would certainly have died, as did their friend, the Queen of France. Being friends with this charming lady will have finally gotten them into a lot of trouble. Fleeing France to escape the repression against the nobility, especially against those close to the royal couple, Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, was probably the most cowardly act of her life, but if she had not, she could have ended up on the scaffold like so many others."
"Revolutionaries were not lenient, even with women. Finishing the decapitated head and burying the body in a mass grave was certainly not the end she imagined for her long life. Her friend Louise-Elisabeth de Tourzel might also have suffered the same fate if she had not decided on that night of August 1792 to take the powder of escape in her company, stupefying discreetly the guard in charge of their surveillance to find refuge here in London. It's been five years now that she has been commuting between her castle in Brittany and the United Kingdom; five years that she has lived like a wanderer, continually hiding to avoid being spotted by Republicans and other allies of the provisional government of her native country. It wasn't even a life at all. She no longer had a goal, nothing more interesting to do than to accompany a princess for the visit of an orphanage. God, this way of life was boring. If at least she had a single reason to give back some energy to her dull existence, maybe it would help disturb the monotony of her wandering life.
However, she did not have the opportunity to wonder more about the life she led because the carriage, which had not ceased since their departure to toss them continuously, had finally stopped after yet another shaking. Just a few meters to their left, behind a huge portal, was the object of their displacement - the Wool's orphanage. Just like a little boy of eight years a few months earlier, Marie-Louise found the place cold and not very welcoming. 'The money paid by the English monarchy could still have been used to renovate the facade of this sinister place,' she said, examining the place with a dull eye.
The door of their car opened, and one of the soldiers in charge of their protection was waiting for them on the sidewalk, already reaching out his hand to help them get off. The warm atmosphere of the carriage was quickly replaced by the cold of November, and the wind blowing on the few places where her skin appeared pushed her to tighten her coat against her to keep some heat. It was decidedly not the time to put a foot out, and even her umbrella could not stop the few drops falling on her thick hair. What was the point of having taken this object in this case? This is the question she asked herself while, with one hand, she tried in vain to lift the sides of her dress to prevent it from slipping on the dirty and wet floor of the street.
Despite all her attention, she was suddenly attracted by a strange sensation coming from the first floor of the imposing building in front of her - a sensation she never imagined feeling in such a place. Truth be told, no one else could know what she was talking about unless they were a true expert in magic, as she was. Her two friends were both Muggles, so they were not of any help to her, unfortunately. Yet such a level of magic in the air was quite amazing. It seemed like the place had been built on a site from which a significant amount of magical residue escaped. However, any residue necessarily came from a source, and in this case, it must be a person present inside the orphanage. Can it be a child? The idea seemed wild, especially since a child could not reach such a level in terms of magical concentration. Her reflections were interrupted, however, by the hand of Louise-Elisabeth, who shook her shoulder slightly. 'Oh, forgive me. I think my mind wandered elsewhere,' she flatly apologized. 'You were telling me?' 'I asked you if you were going to decide to accompany us to the door of this orphanage or if you intended to take root in the middle of this road.' 'I prefer the first option. Remind me to thank you one day for having the brilliant idea of accompanying Elisabeth in such a capricious time. Without wanting to offend you, my dear,' she added for the Princess of Hanover.
Louise-Elisabeth just smiled at him mockingly before walking into the entrance courtyard of the orphanage, the English guards on their heels. The sound of the heels of their shoes and the saddlebags of the military carrying a few rifle rounds was the only sound that could be distinctly heard as they advanced in silence. One of the guards preceded them by speeding up the pace and poked heavily on the front door before entering inside without waiting for permission. From where she was, Marie-Louise could see him standing straight like an I right next to the door keeping it open to let them in. 'His Majesty Princess Elisabeth of Hanover!' he launched strongly while the so-called princess entered the building with an assured step, Marie-Louise and Louise-Elisabeth following him.
The guard also scanned their names and titles attached to them, but the orphans, arranged in four perfect lines, already had eyes only for their princess. At first glance, Marie-Louise could count about fifty of them, of any age and any condition. The rags rubbed shoulders with the craziest outfits, and girls and boys were mixed in order of size, the smallest in front and the teenagers in retreat."
"An old lady with a strict appearance, in her black dress with a high collar falling to her feet, made her look like a widow. Her emaciated face gave her the air of a bird of prey, eyeing its next meal. She approached them as soon as they appeared, and in passing, she intimated to the children, whose charge she had, to bow respectfully before women as prestigious as they. Her tone was not friendly, and the request she made sounded more like an order. The children bowed to her with good grace, and perhaps even with an ounce of fear.
'Your Highness,' she said, bowing in turn, 'I am more than honored that you do us the immense honor of your presence in these places. Is it not, children?'
'Oh yes, Ms. Cole!' the orphans answered immediately in chorus.
'I hope your journey to get here went smoothly?' she asked in a horribly honeyed tone.
'Without any difficulty, rest assured,' Elisabeth affirmed. 'My mother apologizes once again for not being able to come and discover for herself the latest developments made in your orphanage. Be sure that it always carries the interests and well-being of your small residents to heart.'
'Do not worry about this, Your Majesty. I know for a fact that your mother, the Queen, has very busy days, and much more important things than visiting an orphanage take up much of her free time. If you will follow me now, I will introduce you to all our residents and staff members.'
The two French women noticed without any difficulty that the director of the establishment ignored them royally. She had, after all, greeted only Elizabeth without even turning to them. Perhaps she had believed that the English princess would come alone for this visit and that she could discuss everything at her leisure with her about this and that, in order to be well-seen at the Court? In that case, she had missed. Her honeyed attitude strongly displeased Elisabeth, who noticed the hypocrisy of Ms. Cole. Getting complimented every ten seconds was nice at first, but after ten minutes, it got very annoying. The poor children suffered greatly, as if Ms. Cole absolutely wished to shorten as quickly as possible the greetings between her and the orphans.
The handshakes and kisses were very short, and only a few small sentences of politeness were exchanged. Just enough time for Elisabeth to notice some strange things in some boys. Many wore basic clothes, but some had decided to mix theirs with shirts whose sleeves ended in silk ornaments and a lace jabot at the collar, or pants that were also elegant. It would not have surprised her too much if these clothes were not too small or too large for them, depending on the age of the child wearing them. It seemed as if a boy from a bourgeois family had been stripped of his belongings by the others.
'Follow me now,' invited Ms. Cole, leading them to the refectory.
The visit continued in a peaceful silence, only disturbed by the director's ramblings, who did not miss an opportunity to discuss with Elisabeth, much to her dismay. The orphans were kindly invited by their matron to go elsewhere not to disturb this visit, preferably outside the orphanage.
'This woman totally ignores us,' silently declared the Marquise de Tourzel, frowning. 'Her attitude displeases me!'
'To whom do you say it?' sighed Marie-Louise, keeping composed. 'I wonder what we have been able to do to her to deserve such treatment. Perhaps it is due to our origins? The English have a very negative feeling towards the French.'
'Maybe yes,' muttered her friend, analyzing with a wise eye the behavior of the director a few meters in front of them. 'It must be said that all these centuries of conflict between our two nations do not in any way help our affairs.'
And that was an understatement. Ms. Cole pretended they didn't exist and didn't even bother to check that they were still behind her. It was only when Elizabeth told her to wait for her friends that she agreed to pay attention to them. The visit of the orphanage took place in this strange atmosphere of open tension and black glances, covering everything: the refectory, the inner courtyard, where they had the unpleasant surprise of seeing a manure pit once used as a latrine for children. Suffice to say that the small inspection began badly, as hygiene measures were not respected. Then came the other rooms on the ground floor, including the classroom, which served as a class, the library, more like a storage room where books were haphazardly stored, or staff apartments that were completely new. The money was supposed to be used primarily for the welfare of orphans. Now, it seemed that it was purely and simply diverted for the comfort and well-being of the adults working here. The director's apartments, in particular, reeked of wealth.
'All this belonged to me already before I took the direction of this establishment!' she quickly said, wishing to dispel any possible doubts.
Taken aback, most of the furniture in the room seemed too new to be family memories, as she had long assured. In her head, Elisabeth promised to talk to her parents as soon as possible to launch legal proceedings against the illegal practices of the director. The first floor finally succeeded the ground floor, and it was by the same staircase taken by a certain boy with green eyes a few months earlier that Marie-Louise and the others went up.
As the four of them progressed up the stairs, the only witch in the group could feel more and more intensely the magic emanating from the person staying on the upper floor of the orphanage, as well as the white smoke present everywhere. This person possessed a lot of it but obviously did not seem to know how to camouflage it in the eyes of experienced wizards or contain it within to avoid wasting it unnecessarily. Anyone with a foundation in the perception of magic residue could have discovered it and come to learn about it for the wrong reasons.
'Do you not feel that the air cools even more as we go up this staircase?' she whispered to Louise-Elisabeth discreetly."
"That's right," she agreed, wondering if this was not due to the magical concentration that was growing as they went on. It was indeed difficult not to notice the volutes of white and vaporous smoke that spread everywhere in their path. She was nevertheless the only one who could notice them; the others probably only felt the freshness of them when they rubbed against them. The energy in the air was pleasant and deliciously comforting, much like a silk cocoon encompassing them, in which anyone would like to be pampered. Even a mother's embrace didn't have as much effect.
"Here are the toilets," Ms. Cole suddenly informed them, putting an end to their total feeling of fullness. "Much of the money that your father, King George III, gave us served in this room. The children and the staff do not cease to praise the extreme kindness he has shown so that we can afford this little luxury!"
The toilet did not have the look one could hope for. Poorly maintained, dirty, damaged, clogged with old rags... The children seemed to give themselves more joy in destroying what had been built than in thanking God for the gift made by the king himself. Elisabeth's upset pout perfectly expressed her father's reaction to it, even if hers would certainly be a hundred times worse.
"Oh, you must not pay attention to the few little problems you can see," Ms. Cole tried to reassure them, smiling nervously. "You know how children are! It can't help but do some nonsense!"
"Some nonsense, you say?" repeated the princess, suppressing the urge to yell at her. "Try to solve these 'nonsense' very soon, or I could inform my father of how the work he financed is treated. Come on, take me somewhere else; this show supports me."
Eager to make up for this little inconvenience, Ms. Cole did not hesitate twice and led her to the other rooms of the floor, preferably those of which she was certain that there were no other unpleasant surprises inside. Even a broom closet did the trick, although it was of no interest to the three ladies accompanying her. Finally, they came to the door of the dormitory where the children slept. It was also behind this door that Marie-Louise could feel the origin of all this magical activity. The mystery was soon to be solved.
"Here is the dormitory," the director unnecessarily announced before opening the door. "We plugged the few existing cracks and bought extra beds to accommodate new children. Other than that, there was nothing else in this room, but I'll let you find out for yourself."
She immediately executed herself and opened the door to let only Elisabeth pass. There was little doubt that Ms. Cole had a grudge against the other two, to cut them off purely and simply from entering just after the English princess. But the two French women did not pay attention to it; the shenanigans of an old madwoman did not interest them. What was behind that now-open door was far more important to a certain witch's eyes.
When she entered the dormitory, Marie-Louise was surprised to discover that it was not empty, and at the same time to discover the identity of the person possessing the enormous source of magic that she had been able to feel earlier. A little boy under ten with black hair and ruffled green eyes quietly read a book lying on his bed. At least, that's what he was doing before he saw four women enter the room, including the terrible Ms. Cole. He had never liked this woman from day one. But where he had seen an authoritarian woman at first, he quickly realized that she was not only that. Tyrannical, unsympathetic, angry at will, and especially slanderous, she made terror reign among the orphans of the orphanage. Anyone who exceeded the rules she had set in her institute was subject to severe penalties. She never raised her hand to them, thankfully. But her sadism pushed her to devise terrible plans to be respected. Food deprivation was common, but it also happened that she put a child to sleep directly in the inner courtyard of the orphanage, even in rainy weather. She also locked the most recalcitrant in lock-up cabinets or in the humid cellar of the establishment and released them only much later, sometimes up to twenty-four hours after the crime committed by the unfortunate orphan. Household chores were also a punishment, but cleaning a room as huge as the dormitory proved to be an almost impossible task, especially when she only gave two hours to do so.
"And that I can see my reflection through the tile!" she shouted often to motivate the youngsters expecting this task.
No one dared to remind her that the tile was not suitable for use as a mirror. Both the staff and the children were really afraid of her. Harry was relatively spared from her wickedness, although on a few occasions he was deprived of food for arriving late at a meal. But Ms. Cole was no more sympathetic to him than to another, and her Machiavellianism led her to leave it to others to make Harry's life hell. It must be said that seeing a well-dressed and neat-looking little boy arrive motivated more than one, especially among Harry's dormitory comrades.
From the first day, some boys wanted to fight with him and show the 'son of bastards' who were the bosses here. Harry certainly did not lack courage, but to compete with boys who were sometimes up to five years older than him was suicide. As for using magic, it was out of the question: It was no longer missing that someone discovered that he was a sorcerer to send him directly to the Muggle authorities and undergo the worst torture imaginable.
He was quickly denigrated by the other children for his expensive clothes and the obvious wealth that his family had to possess. The blows rained after only a week, while most of his clothes ended in tatters. The little band who took him for their painkiller obviously caused terror among the other children because none tried to befriend Harry, for his greatest misfortune.
"It's too dangerous," one of the boys his age told him, looking in all directions during their conversation to see if no one had spotted him in his company.
He had, therefore, made the decision to spend most of his time on the streets of London, as his mother had proposed to him, returning only for meals or when the night was approaching. The city had much more interesting things to discover than the orphanage, although some neighborhoods in which he ventured without knowing the history turned out to be very uncrowded. He had also managed to wander on the Way of Traverse using the indications provided by Lily. The shopping alley was always full of people and noisy, but without money, there was not much to do.
He, therefore, spent most of his time in Flourish and Blotts, reading and learning about the latest news of the magical world or simply strolling in the shops for the simple pleasure of the eyes. Without Matthew in his paws, it was much easier for him to enter the shops where his brother would never set foot, in particular the herbalist, whose hundreds of stored plants gave off an exquisite scent for all the customers walking there. Despite the many times he had been there, he could never find his mother and even less his sister nearby, which hurt him slightly.
On the other hand, he could clearly see Matthew and James several times in the Quidditch shop, raving about the latest model of a racing broom. His absence apparently did not bother them at all. Fortunately, neither noticed, too busy answering questions from journalists who formed around them a real swarm ready to melt on their favorite prey.
On the other hand, he had the immense joy of seeing Daphne in the company of his little sister and his mother one day in September. Their conversation by letter was missing, and no longer spending his Wednesday afternoons alone with her too. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he found that day that Daphne seemed less joyful than usual, she who usually kept smiling continuously. He did not have to imagine for a long time what could put her in this state when she passed a few meters from him while she was talking with her mother without worrying about the people surrounding her:
"...Didn't Madam Potter tell you when Harry will be back?
Sorry, my dear, but she prefers to keep all this secret for the moment," replied her mother sadly."
"I miss him," muttered his daughter with a downcast air. "I wish I could have continued to write to him and show him my progress in magic. You can show him when he gets back to his family. He will surely be happy to discover that you were able to cast a spell with your father's wand!"
This prospect seemed to give him a little joy for living. For Harry, knowing that she missed him as much as he missed her was an excellent remedy to last for the following weeks and even more. The memory of his adorable six-year-old fiancée allowed him to resist the urge to burst into tears whenever he thought of his mother, his sister, and his family, to Ms. Cole's reprimands, to the insulting acts of his fellow dormitories. Somewhere in Britain, a little girl was still thinking about him, and despite all the meanness said about him since his arrival at the orphanage, this thought comforted him much more than the books he devoured with his eyes all day long.
Even today, he had chosen this solution to fill the monotony of the orphanage, strangely calm for once. The visit of an important woman had conditioned the cause, according to Ms. Cole's remarks a few days earlier, and the orphans had been informed that their presence was required in the entrance hall to show an excellent image of the establishment by displaying their happy faces as soon as this English princess set foot here. He had been kindly invited to be forgotten and not to show himself in public during her presence.
Suffice to say that seeing her appear in the company of the director and two other women that he did not know slightly disarmed him. What should he do now? Hide while waiting for them to disappear? To be as small as possible so as not to be noticed? Hardly did he decide to slip under his bed that it was already too late: all four had already spotted him. Just the look that the director gave him certified that he had just committed a big stupidity, even if it had not been his intention to leave. How could he know, after all, that she was going to show them around the dormitory as well? He wasn't going to stay hidden all day!
"Well, that's how you welcome important people?" Ms. Cole said as she looked at him. "Your parents didn't teach you good manners maybe?"
"Pardon me, Ms. Cole," he said quickly as he got up from his bed. "I offer you my most sincere apologies for my lack of respect towards your guests."
The director contented herself with giving him a black look before turning away from him and conversing again with his three guests, at least with one of them. While Marie-Louise, Louise Elisabeth, and Elisabeth were all walking behind Ms. Cole to listen to her explanations of the work brought to the dormitory, the Princess of Lamballe could not detach her eyes from the little boy in the room.
He had stood in front of his bed and did not really know what to do to take care of the time until their quick inspection ended. He was content with nervously triturating the sleeves of his jacket, which she could notice as she approached, visible tears in some places. Either this boy could not take care of his things, or something very unfortunate had happened to him. His appearance could have been that of a child of English high society without these few flaws.
In truth, it was clear in her mind that the chic clothes she had seen earlier on other children must no doubt belong to him, she thought, and that he had undoubtedly not given them good grace. She could not help sighing at this sad spectacle: human nature was decidedly cruel at times. Leaving her companions, she positioned herself as soon as she could face Harry, who, on his side, wondered what this lady could want from him, without suspecting for a moment that it was her magic that had ended up putting this French princess in his way.
"Hello, my young friend," she launched in English to start the conversation. "Tell me: What were you reading before we interrupted your reading by our sudden arrival?" she asked politely, smiling.
"The Pussy Cat of Charles Perrault, madam," he replied timidly, avoiding looking at her. "This is one of my favorite stories..."
"It is true that this story has a certain charm," she approved, taking the little book from his bed to examine the cover. "Do you read other books of this kind?"
"Yes, madam, when I can. But there are only textbooks here to learn to read. This book was one of the only ones I could find."
"So what are you doing, Marie-Louise?" called out to her in French Louise-Elisabeth approaching them in turn. "Would you indulge in child reading by leaving me alone to face this director?"
"Although I would much rather read this book than spend my afternoon with this witch, I unfortunately do not have time for it. No, I was rather questioning this young man about his readings..."
Harry, who understood nothing of their language and therefore of their discussion, watched with an air of intrigue as the two women gleefully discussed a topic that eluded him. What did not escape him, however, were the glances they threw at him from time to time, as well as the smiles that were addressed to him. Did they make fun of him by speaking in that foreign language or were they really friendly towards him? Hard to know…
"What an adorable little boy we have there," cheerfully minauded the Marquise de Tourzel, tenderly caressing Harry's chin. "You must certainly have a bunch of suitors running after you, right? Oh, but I forget the good manners, forgive me. My name is Louise Elisabeth de Croy, Marquise de Tourzel. I will thank you for the many other names and titles that my parents and my late husband were kind enough to give me."
"Marquise... does that mean you're a great lady?" Harry innocently asked her, looking at her with curiosity.
"In a way, yes," she answered him without giving up her smile.
"I knew well that I forgot something," sighed Marie-Louise while shaking her head. "Lord, my mother would have scolded me for not introducing myself. My name is Marie Therese Louise de Savoie, titled Mademoiselle de Carignan and Princess de Lamballe, but I prefer that they simply call me Marie-Louise."
"I am really delighted to meet you ladies," Harry answered them by giving them each a kiss, a mark of politeness that he had taught his mother.
Nevertheless, his attention was focused on the face of the Princess of Lamballe, a face that seemed strangely familiar to him — that almost pale ivory complexion, those almond blue eyes, those prominent cheekbones, and especially that strange, thick, powdery gray-haired hairstyle. Harry was sure he had seen it somewhere, but where?
"It may seem strange to you, ma'am, but I feel like I've seen you before…"
"It could be," said Marie-Louise. "It must be said that I often walk the streets of London these days. Perhaps you have met me at the bend of a road?"
"No, I've only been here for almost three months now, but I'm sure I've met you before…"
Then, like a click, the truth broke out in his mind. This woman, this princess... She was the one who had defeated Dumbledore at the international duel tournament! How could he not recognize her immediately? However, she had given him the opportunity to make fun of the old headmaster and had shown her impressive dueling abilities that day. And then, a beauty like hers.
"Would you not be, by chance, this lady who easily beat Professor Dumbledore a year ago in a tournament?" he asked her to clear up any possible misunderstandings.
It was Marie-Louise's turn to be surprised. How could a little boy under ten know? The fact that he was a sorcerer was no doubt about her. She could easily feel his magic core when she arrived at this orphanage. But the tournament he mentioned was reserved only for the wealthiest families on the European continent. Few people could afford the honor of attending, let alone participating. So this boy was part of an important family in Britain? That was amazing. What was a boy like him doing in an orphanage?
"It is true, yes," she confessed while Elisabeth and Ms. Cole, who had meanwhile realized that the two French no longer followed them and conversed with Harry, exchanged a look, both confused. "How do you know that?"
"I went there with my family," replied Harry, nervously waving his hands. "I've never seen anything like this before; you're really strong!"
The Princess of Lamballe could not help but smile at him in thanks for his compliment, but this brief exchange was stopped by the director of the orphanage, who was beginning to get impatient.
"I would not like to sound derogatory, but we do not understand anything about your conversation! I remind you that we still have many rooms to visit, and that we have no time to waste in unnecessary chatter…"
Less than a second later, Ms. Cole lay unconscious on the floor of the dormitory, struck by a Stupefy sent by Marie-Louise. Harry hadn't even seen her make her move, hand to any place in her dress or bag. Her speed was really impressive, even if they had to admit that she had only a simple Muggle as a target.
"I was getting tired of this good woman," she said while putting her wand in the sleeve of her dress.
"Remind me to thank you in some way," asked Elisabeth with a sigh of relief. "This woman is really unbearable…"
Marie-Louise nodded with an amused air before facing the annoyed expression of her other friend.
"Did you really need to knock her out this way?" the sermon was slightly Louise-Elisabeth. "What if someone had seen you?"
"Who could have seen me? You heard the words of this woman just now, my friend: The other children are studying or wandering the streets. We should also think about changing the director for this orphanage," she added while looking at her other companion. "You have to be really stupid to let small children walk the streets of London knowing the dangers they may face. This lady obviously has no notion as to the welfare of the children in her care."
"I will not fail to inform my mother," approved Elisabeth with a nod. "There are a lot of strange things going on in this orphanage anyway."
"This does not explain why you thought it right to stun this woman," recalled the Marquise de Tourzel.
"I thought it good to stun her to prevent her from hearing information that she should not know. The mere fact that our young friend here knew me was already troubling to her, then to discover that I am a witch and that I compete with skill in my duels against old men would have led me straight to the stake. Now, back to you, young man."
With a slight step, she tried to make her way between Harry's bed and the one right next to his to come and sit on it, even if her thick dress made her progress more difficult. She succeeded in doing so, however, not without swearing by the way not on her too wide garment but on the arrangement of the beds in the room.
Well, then I would like to know how you could see me that day in this tournament when it was strictly reserved for competitors and wealthy European families. God knows how hard I had to convince Louise-Elisabeth," she sighed while sketching an amused smile against her friend. "You must be the first Muggle to attend a tournament of this ilk."
"My family paid the entrance to this tournament," Harry simply replied. "My parents came to support Professor Dumbledore, at least my father had come up with this idea."
"You are a wizard," she said. "I told myself that the powerful source of energy I could feel in you was customary to me. Oh, but I just realized that I still don't know what your name is! Forgive me, my child, but what is your name?"
"Harry, ma'am. Harry James Potter."
Harry expected to see her exclaim loudly about her now famous brother and the kinship he had with him. Perhaps she would even ask him for information about him like any adult he had ever met. What he did not expect, however, was the thoughtful air she wore, as if this name was not customary to him.
"Potter... I think I've heard that name somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it," she said as she looked distractedly over Harry's head to recall his memories.
"Maybe you should know my brother, Matthew Potter?" he asked.
Her question did not have the desired effect, and Marie-Louise remained there to search in her memory where she had indeed heard this name. Harry was shocked, to say the least. It was the first time he had met someone who didn't know his brother and his story about Voldemort. Hope was allowed: his brother's fame had its limits.
"Oh, but I know where you could have heard that name, my friend," called Louise-Elisabeth, also sitting on the bed next to her. "Remember all these journalists at this tournament. They were after a little boy who apparently defeated a certain Lord Voldeporc…"
"Voldemort, madam," corrected Harry, holding back the mad laughter which threatened to arrive on hearing the new nickname found by the Marquise de Tourzel.
"Oh yes, it comes back to me!" exclaimed Marie-Louise. "There were so many people who came to admire this little boy that the tournament had almost been overshadowed by his arrival. I'm surprised to see you here, Harry," she added as she turned her attention to him. "Shouldn't you be with your family right now? Did something happen to them?"
"No, madam," he muttered, scowling. "I was abandoned by my parents."
The expression displayed by the three women astonished Harry, to say the least. Each one bore a confused and angry air, even the Princess of Lamballe had a pout of annoyance. Did he say something stupid? Were the three of them going to do like the others and start ignoring him for criticizing his family? A voice in his head, perhaps his conscience, told him the opposite. There was a chance that these three ladies would care about him and be saddened by what was happening to him. This probability was closest to the state of mind of the women in the room. Abandoning a child had already deeply angered them, but hearing that he was previously beaten by his own father put them out of them. All this compassion for him intrigued him strongly: He was not used to it from foreigners.
"A few months ago, Dumbledore came to our house after yet another argument between my parents to try to calm things down. What emerged from his discussion with them was that Matthew's progress in his learning was not fast enough for him, and that I was partly the cause because I constantly disturbed my brother's free time by my nonsense, especially since I never did," he ended up sighing.
"Do you mean that your parents left you here so that they could fully be at the service of your brother?" Marie-Louise asked.
"Among other things. According to Dumbledore, my brother needs all the attention and love he can get to grow according to his hopes and become the fighter he wants, and me and my sister are not part of his plans. According to him, the love of my parents can strengthen his magic core and give him the power to defeat Voldemort, as he does when he is small…"
"Ridiculous!" she cut him off with a slight sneer. "Love is only a human feeling that we feel towards a person, or of a thing pushing us to seek physical proximity, and not any energy to enrich or strengthen a magic core! Love can push some people to do things they wouldn't normally do, gives courage and motivation to push their limits, but it stops there. Happiness, hate, sadness, or even just passion are also emotions, but have no more hold on our magic than the rest. They simply influence our perception of a situation you are in and can make you act accordingly. I see that this old fool certainly no longer has the skills required to be an excellent duelist but has not lost his talent for telling nonsense to people!"
Said like that, you had to admit that what she said was true. After all, James did not dry up praise for his younger son and covered him with presents to show him all the affection he felt for him. However, Matthew had not been more successful in the practice of spells than Dumbledore and his father were trying to teach him. He had stayed at the same point, actually.
"Have you ever set out to feel the magic emanating from you, Harry?" Marie-Louise asked him with a curious air. "I've never seen anything like it, you can believe me. Few people are able to feel the magic of others without using spells to achieve it, but I could notice yours from the entrance gate of this orphanage. I'm surprised that Dumbledore wasn't able to do the same; otherwise, he would have seen how brilliant a wizard you could become. Have you ever performed accidental magic?"
"Yes, madam, and I even managed to control her," Harry assured her with a serious air.
As if to prove his point, Harry pointed to his pillow and made the same gesture he had made in front of Matthew a few months earlier. The cushion flew away immediately and approached him slowly before falling back on his knees. The three women in the room watched him do it with amazement, especially Elisabeth, who was not used to seeing magic often at work.
"Impressive," Marie-Louise commented as she thoughtfully watched Harry put his pillow back in place. "You know how to do this since when?"
"I don't really know," Harry confessed, nervously passing his hand through his hair. "I never had a problem controlling it. My mother once told me that when I was three years old, I brought my brother's bottle and levitated it, but I don't remember."
"Is this not usual in your... Marie-Louise community?" Elisabeth asked him.
"Not really. Almost all wizards use a magic wand to perform spells and enchantments in the process. There are very few wizards capable of this kind of feat. I managed to do this myself long after I finished my studies, and after long hours of training to discover the secrets of accidental magic."
The anger that had emanated from them before had now given way to pure and simple curiosity. Harry was very embarrassed to be the center of attention and timidly looked down at his shoes. Learning from the mouth of a magic expert that her abilities were out of the ordinary nevertheless had something very exhilarating. Yes, the term was fair. His ability to use magic without a wand put him in a different register than the one where wizards were usually found. He was in a whole different class, like in another world, a place where his brother obviously had no place.
"This does not explain why you find yourself here, young man," Louise-Elisabeth intervened, always questioning why her parents had abandoned him.
"Dumbledore told my parents that I had to be sent somewhere else for a while so that my brother's training would go as smoothly as possible. Initially, I had to go to my Aunt Petunia, but according to my mother, she is a horrible woman who would have hurt me more than anything else."
"I tend to believe that your situation is not better here," mumbled the Princess of Lamballe to herself. She thought it would be better if she left the magical world for a while to forget. Since she has no friends in the Muggle world, she sent me here for the next three years...
"Leave it here for three years?" Marie-Louise couldn't help but express her perplexity with a "Hmpf" sound. The state of the young boy's clothes in front of her foreshadowed that the other children were attacking him, and the sad look he continually displayed proved that he wasn't really happy here. His Occlumency shields are almost non-existent. She allowed herself to explore his memory to collect some information about the last months he spent here and discover the little life he led in this sinister place. Suffice to say that what she saw did not please her at all. For a moment, she imagined herself back in her field with Harry, not only to get him out of the misery he was plunged into but also to break the monotony of his life. With a dead husband and no children she could care for, her days were extremely long and boring. She could personally occupy herself with the formation of the prodigy she had before her and awaken her maternal instincts, perhaps at the same time.
But reality caught up with her immediately, thinking that the events currently taking place in France were not conducive to raising a child, especially in view of her past as a friend of Queen Marie-Antoinette. Harry could be in danger, and although she had only known him for a few minutes now, she did not wish to harm him. Anyway, she wasn't that kind. For his part, Harry, who was silently watching Marie-Louise as he waited for her answer regarding why he had been sent here, did not realize that under the effect of nervousness, he did not stop rubbing the scar he had on his wrist, a memory of that day when he and Daphne had become engaged. However, this detail did not escape the woman in front of him who opened her eyes to this vision.
"God of heaven, but how are you doing this?" she exclaimed as she took Harry's wrist to examine it. "Do you have suicidal tendencies?"
"Forgive me? Oh! No, my father did this to me."
Again, their mood became dark, except that this time the cause of Harry's injury was too difficult for them to swallow.
"Divine goodness! Where does this child executioner stay that I immediately go to make him regret the day he came into the world?! This filthy and disgusting little pig certainly does not deserve the title of father!"
"Let's see, Marie-Louise, calm down!" intimate her friend, despite that she too would have liked to express her way of thinking about Harry's father.
"But finally! How can you do that to a child? Never in my life have I seen such a thing!"
Even Elisabeth agreed with her and said that the Minister of Magic, the only representative of the magical world her father tolerated, will certainly be made aware of this affair. At least that was before Harry begged them not to do it, much to their amazement.
"Why then?" they asked him at the same time.
"If my father learns that I am here and not at my aunt's, he could attack my mother and I do not want him to hurt her..."
"But we can always say that you were discovered in this state somewhere in London!" Marie-Louise proposed.
But the tears that were now overflowing Harry's eyes at the mere thought of what James could do against Lily were enough to dissuade her from doing anything. She just took Harry in her arms to let him cry on his shoulder and evacuate all his pain.
"Come on, young man, calm down," she whispered softly in the hollow of his ear. "I promise you that we will not disclose anything we have seen here to your family or anyone else, even if I have to admit that what I have seen so far would push me to do the opposite. Could you tell us more about your family situation?" she inquired once she released him. "I have the impression that it does not have to be joyful every day at your home..."
Their conversation lasted excessively long, much longer than was really necessary. Harry was asked at length about his family life, especially about the very close relationship he had with his mother and sister and how little the magical world cared about him, as well as his life in the orphanage, his habits when he was walking in London... He took the opportunity in passing to give the Princess of Hanover some small negative points on the orphanage as revenge against Ms. Cole who, moreover, he was unconscious for almost an hour. But all good things had an end, and this finally happened when Elizabeth remembered an important dinner with her mother and sisters to whom she was also invited. No one had really seen time go by, and Marie-Louise was surprised to regret that their interview ended so quickly. The boy in front of her was polite, courteous, smart, and educated... It was actually very nice to chat with him.
"Well, I was delighted to meet you, Harry," she finally threw up from the bed. "I am sure that our paths will meet again one day, and I will be delighted that day to see what you have become in the meantime. If you ever wanted to know more about your magical abilities and why not perfect yourself in this art, do not hesitate to visit me in my castle in France. You will only have to use the chimney powder and say 'Fireplace from the Junon living room of Lamballe Castle' to access it. Does that agree?"
"Yes, madam," assured Harry before giving her another kiss. "I will be honored to see you again one day in other circumstances. My mom always told me to be kind to people you love, and I appreciate you very much."
Marie-Louise simply smiled politely before moving away to give way to Louise-Elisabeth who was also entitled to kiss and reverence. Despite the time during which all three had discussed with Harry, each had taken nevertheless affection for this little boy so cute and already so hard touched by life. The Marquise even allowed herself a little kiss on Harry's forehead, as if to wish him good luck for the rest. Elizabeth finished the farewell ball in the same way as the others, thanking Harry for his information about how the orphanage was run and the despotism Ms Cole was showing within the facility.
"It is now time to wake up our dear guide," sighed Marie-Louise with a resigned air. "It's a shame, I prefer it like this…"
Slowly leaning over Ms. Cole's unconscious body, she scrutinized him with her eyes, as if to look for a clue to revive her, she slapped him violently on the cheek for no apparent reason. While her two friends were shocked by her gesture, Harry stopped her from bursting into laughter as he thrust his head into his pillow.
"But what are you doing!?" Louise-Elisabeth exclaimed with alarm. "Have you lost your mind?"
"No, I just wanted to see if she found hers that way, but obviously it doesn't work," she replied with amusement. "Enervate!" she said, pointing her magic wand at her.
The director was traversed by slight jolts before finally flickering her eyes while regaining consciousness. Her confused face then fell on the falsely worried look of the witch in front of her and her two companions as she wondered why she was on the ground.
"What... What happened to me?" she muttered while massaging her neck with a troubled air.
"It seems that you have had a fainting spell," Marie-Louise lied, smiling kindly. "You suddenly collapsed in the middle of that alley, didn't you, ladies?"
"Oh yes, absolutely!" the other two threw in, suppressing their desire to laugh.
"Fatigue no doubt," said Ms Cole, leaning on one of the beds to get up. "I didn't sleep well last night, actually…"
"It is time to put an end to this visit in this case! It is better for you to take a little rest; you are very pale…"
Gently pushed from the shoulders by Marie-Louise towards the exit, Ms Cole did not pay any attention to Harry, as if she had forgotten for a moment that he was still there. The other women followed her, not without greeting Harry one last time with a graceful nod before disappearing behind the dorm door. Harry sat on his bed, his gaze still focused on this door now closed, a smile on his lips: The day had not been so difficult that finally.
step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.
For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.
Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!