CHAPTER: 8 FIRST TRAINING IN FRANCE
"The sun was just beginning to rise, and its rays of light dimly pierced the huge windows of the room. But unlike many people, they did, Harry didn't need it to wake up. In truth, Harry had been up for almost an hour now, curiously looking at the depictions painted on the ceiling of his new room. Seeing paintings of saints and gods all over the surface above his head was quite an amazing sight, he said, especially that, unlike the Potter mansion where the few portraits of his ancestors moved and communicated with each other, all the paintings and sketches in the castle of Lamballe remained perfectly immobile. It wasn't just that that caught his attention: The whole building was a real feast for the eyes, whether from the outside or inside. The castle of Lamballe was composed of more than one hundred rooms, counting the numerous wine cellars and the attic roofs serving as warehouses for old furniture when the villagers did not want it. It was not uncommon to find several pieces serving the same purpose, such as the salons, each bearing a different Roman god name, or the rooms used for the most part for the few friends of Marie-Louise wishing to stay and sleep at home.
Wherever his eyes had been, he saw nothing but pomp and riches. Even the walls were decorated with decorations, woodwork, and moldings covered with a thin film of gold in the 'style Pompadour,' as specified to him by his mother when he raved about the decoration of the rooms. The furniture wasn't left out, and Harry was sure he had seen enough armchairs, chairs, and tables for the rest of his life. He had not yet had time to see all the rooms of the castle, but what he had already seen was well worth having agreed to become the son of Marie-Louise. This place was so large that the Potter's mansion could have easily fit in one of the castle's wings, especially in the chapel that he had the opportunity to discover yesterday and that had more than impressed him.
'Religious services are held here on Sundays in the company of a large part of our servants and some inhabitants of Lamballe. However, you will not have to attend as you are not a believer, but perhaps in the future, this will change,' had launched his mother by giving him a guided tour of this huge room occupying alone the left wing of the dungeon.
Even his room had Dantesque dimensions, twice that of his brother, and the furniture composing it was also luxurious and breathing wealth. His bed was a perfect example, and its gigantic dimensions made the bed he owned at Potter Manor a simple camp bed. Matthew had been the only one to benefit from a four-poster bed offered by Sirius and James when he had contented himself with a single bed without the slightest frills. But there he now had a Polish bed with a rather high canopy dropping like a cascade of thick curtains on either side of his bed. Chalit, dais, aigrette, his bed was the look of a king, and this sudden luxury intrigued him more than it frightened him. His brother would be willing to kill to get a bed like that, and imagining Matthew clapping his fist while rolling on the floor ripped out a smile that quickly turned into a sneer. It was a very pleasant feeling to sleep in such a comfortable bed, in such warm sheets, and having several pillows to lay his head was a novelty that he already appreciated.
'If this is how Matthew feels when he wakes up, then I must admit that he was lucky,' he said shortly after waking up.
Two knocks on the door of his room took him out of his reverie, and after he ordered the person behind to enter, he—the door opened to two women wearing a similar uniform and an apron as long as their dress. Both seemed young, no more than thirty for one and twenty for the other, he said, and Harry was certain to have met them yesterday when he had to politely greet all the servants present in the castle.
'Have you already woken up, master?' asked one of the two maids, while the other, who was holding a tray overloaded with food, walked towards him without taking her eyes off the food she was bringing to Harry. 'It's very early morning! Madame is a real brat!' 'Uh.. yes,' he replied timidly, looking at her with a disconcerted air. The servant had to understand that he had not grasped the meaning of his words because she did not add anything but threw a small amused smile at him while also advancing towards him while his colleague affixed on the bed the tray of food of which she placed each of the handles on each side of her legs. Harry watched her do it, troubled: It was the first time he was served breakfast in bed. But he did not long question this practice because the sight of the pastries offered to him immediately made him forget what he had in mind. Buns and croissants mingled with cakes and desserts of choice, while a small jar of orange juice and another of milk battled to make a place with assortments of cold cuts and cheeses. A bowl of hot chocolate still smoking was in the center of all this shambles, waiting only for Harry to be consumed. Many other foods were also present, although Harry doesn't know them all.
'Since we don't know what you like, we thought it would be wiser for you to choose for yourself,' the same servant said to him, kneeling beside the bed to get to his level. 'If you like, do this.' The servant began to caress her stomach and pointed at some cakes while pretending to appreciate. The next moment she displayed a disgusted mine by showing once again the foodstuffs present on the plateau. At first perplexed, Harry finally understood where she was coming from and nodded joyfully before nibbling on each of the cakes offered to him. 'What do you call yourself, young man?' she asked him as he pushed the cheese slices away from him. 'Gabriel de. de Savoie,' he answered, raising his eyes to her, astonished at her question. The woman chuckled heartily, quickly joined by the other servant who had also remained with them."
"No, I meant your real name. You have another name, don't you?"
"Oh, my name is Harry Potter."
"Well, nice to meet you, Harry, or should I say Gabriel now," she said, pointing her finger. "And she is Martine," she added, showing her colleague who tilted her head when she crossed Harry's eyes. "We have been chosen to be your chambermaids, master."
"Ladies of the Chamber?" he repeated, frowning his eyebrows.
"We will take care of you," announced Francoise, using, as he realized, the language of the hands to designate them in turn. "We will serve you breakfast, we will help you wash, dress..."
The list was long as he discovered it gradually, but luckily, the gestures made by Francoise allowed him to understand what it was about. He would never have imagined being pampered in this way, he who all his life had learned to cope largely by himself. Even his mother had not washed his body for a long time, so discovering that he now had two mistresses to do so was a change he was not prepared for.
"Do you wish to eat something else, master?" asked Martine, when she took him out of his reverie.
"No... thank you," he said, slightly spreading the tray from his body.
The next five minutes were an opportunity for Harry to know that, in truth, breakfast was a meal that very few people followed in France, in contrast to Great Britain where it was much more appreciated by its population. His meal would be plentiful and composed of the things he had liked but would be served very early because lunch arrived quickly, around ten or eleven in the morning, at least that's what he understood. Francoise also explained to him that in the morning, the French used to laze in their beds and prepare only in the middle of the morning for dinner with the family, among the nobles in any case. According to an old idea circulating among them, only the peasants rose at the first light of the sun, for this was precisely the period when they began to work. The customs of this country were decidedly very different from those of his country of origin, and knowing that the last meal of the day was served at seventeen confirmed his opinion that the French were strange people.
"It's time to go to your toilet, Master."
Taking off the tray resting on her legs, Martine quickly walked out of the room with the leftovers of meals, while her colleague was already pulling the blankets from Harry's bed to help him get up. Putting on a silk dressing gown, she directed him to a door to the right of his bed, behind which was the bathroom.
The room was, unlike the rest of the house, rather small and had only a large cabinet painted white, a sink on which were arranged some pots unknown to him, a porcelain bidet for his small commissions, and a tub-shaped bathtub in the center of the room. The bathtub was empty for now, but he did not have long to wait for the water to be used to wash him because Martine returned a few seconds later with several buckets that she held at arm's length.
"Madam should soon have plumbing installed in this room to allow you to wash without having to continually go to stock from the other bathrooms."
It took several minutes for the bathtub to contain a sufficient level of water to be able to wash quietly. At first embarrassed to show his nakedness to two strangers, his apprehensions nevertheless vanished when his body penetrated the hot and extremely relaxing water. Contrary to what he would have thought, being washed by someone else was not that terrible, although parts of his anatomy were reserved for him for this task. Harry was even beginning to take a liking to this life, but he was nevertheless careful not to say it out loud or even to think of enjoying it by thinking of taking advantage of this situation to become a tyrant delegating the least of his tasks to male servants for whom he would have no regard.
Matthew would have been able to do it, and just the idea that he could become like him and at the same time turn into a capricious and despicable little boy baffled him. Martine and Francoise were also pleasant company, gently washing each part of his skin with unusual softness, as if Harry was for them a small fragile porcelain doll.
Their young prince took the opportunity to get to know them better, and at the same time discover a little more about the life that the inhabitants of Lamballe and the servants of the castle led. The maids answered him in French, which caused many problems of understanding, but Harry swore inwardly to overcome this language barrier and later to have a proper conversation with any Frenchman. Nevertheless, this little moment of euphoria and joy turned short when Francoise attacked his back and missed a horrified exclamation when she saw an unpleasing spectacle.
"H-how did you make these marks, Master?" she asked, sliding her finger over the perfectly perpendicular lines that streaked his skin.
Harry swallowed, feeling a rush of anguish. Now he had completely forgotten the memories left by his father for all the times he had done something stupid. If Marie-Louise saw him, it was certain that she would immediately go to account with him.
"My father does this," he said nervously, as he tried to hide his back by dipping his body more into the water.
"It looks like belt shots," remarked Martine, frowning. "Divine goodness, who is the bastard daring to do this to a child?"
"Martine, your language! Francoise rebelled, shooting her with her eyes. There is a child in this room! On the other hand, if I got my hands on this man, I'm sure my rolling pin would be happy to smash his skull!"
Harry followed their debate in silence, wondering what they might be talking about. Given the animation of their speech, the subject must have been his father and the treatment he subjected him, at least that's what he thought.
"Why did he strike you in this way, Master?" Francoise inquired, staring at him.
"I'm, um... not nice," mumbled Harry with a penultimate air.
"You? A bad boy? By all the saints, I have a hard time believing you! Madame would never have taken you with her if you were not a good person!"
Harry's toilet resumed more beautifully, although unintentionally. The two maids tended to rub harder than Harry's blow marks on his body came if they hoped to make them disappear. Finally, the bath ended, and while Martine helped Harry dry up, she, her colleague, left the room for a few moments before returning a few minutes later with a package in her arms that she placed on a chair near them.
"It's time to dress up, master," she said, beginning to unpack what Harry thought were rags. "Your mother gave us your old clothes, making us swear to burn them as soon as possible; they were, according to her, unworthy to be worn by a person of your rank."
Wrapped only with a warm towel, Harry could see his new clothes for himself, and the least he could say about it was that they changed radically from what he had been wearing until now. He was, however, customary for shirts but had never had the opportunity to add to them a vest and a jacket long enough to look like a frock coat. The shirt presented to him by his maid was white in color and offered as a bonus a jabot of the same color at the collar. The vest was buttoned at the belly and was the same bluish color as the jacket, which also had ornaments sewn with gold thread on each border. In addition, he had as a bonus very tight pants of midnight blue arriving to the knees and a pair of white tights finishing to dress his legs. Finally, a nice pair of varnished moccasins with a silver buckle finished to complete the outfit. Harry found it beautiful, until he saw an object he never thought he would see among his clothes…
"I hope you are a regular in men's corsets, master," she hurled at him in a slightly mocking tone when she saw the pale face of the prince. "I don't know who had this crazy idea, but you'll just have to ask your mother by going to see her just now."
After more than ten minutes of being dressed, styled, and shod, Harry was finally ready. His new appearance amazed him when he looked at himself in a mirror to look at himself from every angle, although the corset hugging his waist was really uncomfortable.
"You are magnificent, Master!" exclaimed Francoise, dusting from time to time her jacket to remove a crease. "How do you already say in your language?"
"Wonderful too," threw his colleague distractedly while doing the same. "If I was fifteen years younger and I wasn't married, I would definitely fall under your spell!"
Harry thanked them for their praise before being led through the castle by his two maids. On his way, he could see some servants staring at him without an ounce of ill intent but more out of curiosity. Some still seemed not to believe that they now had a little lord to whom they will henceforth owe obedience and loyalty, and therefore did not bother to stare at him as if they expected him to be just a mirage that would quickly disappear if they looked at him more closely. But Harry was still visible to their eyes, and it dissuaded them from eyeing him in this way for a long time.
A veritable ball of bows and greetings followed him all the way to the room where his mother was, and although flattered by all these marks of respect, he, to see adults bow to him as if he were Merlin's very reincarnation, was disturbing. In one corner of his head, the thought that now the whole village surrounding the estate was aware of his existence slightly anguished him. After passing through several salons and other rooms whose usefulness was still unknown to him, Harry finally stopped in front of another door which he had not had the opportunity to cross since yesterday.
"Your mother is here, Master; we must leave you now: the library is forbidden for the servants."
After yet another reverence, the two women abandoned him on the doorstep, no doubt in search of a new task to be accomplished. The room he was in was now completely empty, and only the sound of a conversation beyond the gigantic window lighting the room came to his ears, accompanied from time to time by the ticking of a heavy clock in a corner.
Here, too, stage performances of the Bible were painted on the ceiling, while the rest of the furniture gave the room the appearance of a rest room with its many ceremonial armchairs and the few sofas installed around a table on which was a cup of fruit. This living room really contrasted with the idea of a library, as if the pleasures of life and the related relaxation were not allowed to pass the door leading to the room in which Marie-Louise was. Funny idea to stick these two rooms together, he said while inspecting it with his eyes. Despite everything, he remembered why he was here and while taking a deep breath, he decided to knock on the wooden panel several times, taking care not to touch the golden decorations of the door that could damage them.
"Come in," his mother invited him in a distant voice.
"Not being prayed for," Harry finally opened the door and stopped short as he saw the spectacle before his eyes. The library looked very much like the Potter bookshelf because of the golden colors reflected by the many candles floating in the air and on the dozens of tables lined up in the room, and layout shelves glued most often against the walls. But the comparison stopped there. Harry had never before seen such large shelves rising to the ceiling, which itself was already several meters above him, or even mobile stepladders of the same size. It was difficult to know what color the woodwork was behind these columns of books, although the few Doric columns present in the room gave him a slight idea.
As everywhere else in the castle, the ceiling once again represented scenes from Greek or Roman mythology, although those in this room looked much more worked than in the rest of the building. Marveled once again by the talent shown by the artist to paint with such finesse this work, Harry recovered despite everything and looked for his mother, who, surprisingly, was not visible, at least not at first. She finally made her appearance by leaving a corridor that he had not noticed until then, and paying more attention, he found that there were several along the room with also other libraries just waiting to be discovered. Marie-Louise seemed to have momentarily forgotten his presence and was looking for manuals among the many she owned.
"Hello, mother," he finally greeted her by suddenly apprehending her reaction to his new appearance.
His adoptive mother turned to him and raised an eyebrow as she saw exactly what he was wearing, before sketching a fine smile against him, reassuring him as to his opinion on this subject.
"Oh, you are Gabriel," she said, holding another book in her arms.
Caught in a sudden urge, and perhaps because he thought it would please his mother, Harry approached her, and without her asking him, he said, hugged her in an embrace he usually reserved only for Lily. Marie-Louise, surprised by this sudden outpouring of tenderness, also answered by kissing his cheek in a sound echoing between the many shelves.
"Have you slept well, my dear?" she asked him as he sat at one of the tables near her.
"I have never slept so well," he said, smiling at her. "I didn't know that the ladies who had to take care of me in the morning had to help me wash myself," he added, recalling this strange scene. "Will it always be like that?"
"Oh no!" she said, giggling slightly. "At least unless you ask them, otherwise, they will let you wash yourself after a while. You are very elegant," she noticed when she saw the outfit he was wearing. "These are old clothes that belonged to one of your aunt's sons who was kind enough to give them to you while waiting for you to have new ones when I asked one of my tailor friends to come to the castle. The pants of this color are no longer really in fashion these days."
Harry nodded, even though it didn't matter that he wasn't dressed like the kids his age following the latest clothing trends. He liked the clothes he wore, and that was the main thing for him.
"Where are Aunt Louise and Pauline?" he asked, looking at the shelves as if he expected to see them appear from behind.
"Your aunt is getting ready. Merlin, this woman is sometimes even longer to dress than me," she sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling with a weary air. "Pauline went to visit the farm with some servants. She's set out to prepare a little something for you herself."
"Oh, it's... it's really nice of her!"
"Don't forget to thank her, by the way," she added by taking another book. "Oh, I was going to forget: Your aunt would like to know if you want to have religion classes in addition to those she is already ready to give you?"
The question caught him off guard. Harry had obviously thought about it but still allowed himself a few days to think about it. As Marie-Louise had told her, accepting to convert to a religion was a decision fraught with consequences and above all definitive. He had never thought that a celestial entity could dwell beyond the clouds and watch over them, but apparently his two mothers believed in them, and that was a point where the two of them met. If it would allow the three of them to make a strong connection with each other, then he was ready to do so.
"I would like to," he said after a few minutes of reflection.
"You see me delighted," replied his mother joyfully. "You can, of course, follow her courses at the beginning simply to see if this subject interests you before really embarking on this path. I also wanted to know if you enjoy wearing a corset?"
"Well... in truth, no."
His mother sneered at his answer again before looking at him with a compassionate air.
"It is an idea of your aunt to teach you to stand properly in all circumstances. The corset will prevent you from leaning forward so that you get into the habit of keeping a straight figure wherever you are."
"It is really unpleasant to breathe," he confessed by triturating the shirt hiding his corset.
"You have no idea. Either way, you can stop wearing them when she deems your maintenance appropriate, so practice. Do you feel happy that she did not have the idea to dress you as a girl and to dress you in the same way as us to deepen your manners: Your male ego would have taken a hit."
"Why would she have had this idea?" Harry asked her, staring at her in horror.
"It is customary in the noblest families of Europe to dress boys in this way up to a certain age. Kings, for example, had to go through this stadium in their youth. The child thus learns to walk with a flexible, light and graceful step and not to dirty his clothes. It is a way like any other to educate a child to be careful and take care of him and his clothes."
Harry contented himself with swallowing heavily, imagining for a moment wearing a dress as wide as those worn by his mother and aunt, while Marie-Louise returned to contemplation of her books and seemed to seek precisely certain works because she generally did not take long to find them. Finally, when the pile of books she was holding almost hid her sight, she came back to him and put the textbooks right in front of his face.
"As I told you a few days ago, I will teach you everything I know about magic, whatever branch is taught in witchcraft schools around the world. These books deal with different subjects that you will be forced to learn if you want to progress such as potions, spells, metamorphosis or offensive and defensive spells. For now, these manuals are rather easy to read and have illustrations allowing you to learn the movements to perform to cast the requested spells, but over time, I will intensify the difficulty by teaching you other much more advanced subjects such as the study of runes, arithmancy, blood rituals and even duel!"
"Will I fight like you?" he questioned her not without being impatient at this idea.
"Certainly, and maybe even as well as I at the end of our training! Now at work."
With a gesture of her magic wand, Marie-Louise lowered the brightness of the candles floating above their heads and closed the curtains of the few windows in the room.
"Now, Gabriel, for our first lesson, we're going to do something quite special that should surprise you. As I told you when we met in this orphanage, I have the ability to feel the magical auras and the amount of magic deployed by the core of each individual. Generally, none attracts my attention as much because most wizards have the same magical power as any other individual, and the difference is sometimes played out at little. But yours was such that I could feel it several tens of meters away from you. You have so much magic that it escapes from your body, which makes you waste it unnecessarily."
Her gaze was all around Harry, giving the impression to her son that she was seeing his magic spread in the air without him noticing it. He wasn't that far from the truth.
"I will teach you how to channel your magic and prevent it from escaping from you to allow you to use it to the fullest of its ability. It will take time because when I read this book, I found that the principle was the same as for the occult."
His mother showed him a small textbook, particularly old and patched on some edges, written in a language he could not recognize.
"You will have to form psychic barriers around your core to channel your energy and otherwise contain your magic to make it return to the inside of the source creating it. It will take time, probably a few weeks of intensive work because the occult itself takes several months to be mastered. Your barriers will need to be strong enough to prevent any leakage of magic residue. The principle will remain the same, however, and we will not have to fumble in the void to know how to achieve this result. Now close your eyes and empty your mind. Do not think about anything and do not worry about everything around you anymore. Just focus on my voice."
Harry obeyed meekly and did as she asked. With his eyes closed and now in complete darkness, he tried as hard as he could to ignore his thoughts, although the idea that he must have looked particularly silly remained present in his head. As he expected, he saw absolutely nothing, not even the shadow of a glow allowing him to find his magic core and quickly solve his little problem. Doing his best not to think of anything, he ignored everything he could feel, and, like the comfortable chair he was sitting on or the collar of his jacket rubbing against the skin of his neck. Soon the only thing he was aware of was the beating of his heart, which he heard surprisingly as well as if he had his ear stuck to his chest. It was like being at the bottom of an underground gallery without having the slightest lair to guide you.
"Don't forget, make a vacuum in your mind. An empty mind and without the slightest positive or negative thought will allow you to focus on the magical residues that you will be able to perceive."
Obeying her advice, Harry plunged even more into a meditative state. After a time that seemed long, he began to feel a strange sensation as fresh as spring water and leaving him the impression of being in tune with his whole being. Strangely, moreover, he managed to know from what direction this sensation came despite the darkness in which it was, and after a moment of reflection, Harry decided to follow his instinct and be guided by it. At first skeptical of his idea, the sequel proved to him that he had been right to make this decision when he saw strange volutes of whitish fumes all around him, and as it moved forward through the void, the smoke seemed to gain in intensity. It was like walking through a fog in the middle of winter with no idea where he was going. Only the pulsation of his heart, which he felt more and more intensely, allowed him to orientate and head where he hoped to find his magic core.
"What do you see, Gabriel?" he heard faintly, a little like an echo of the voice of Marie-Louise.
"Smoke, everywhere... It is so bright that I feel like I'm in broad daylight…"
"You are approaching," she answered. "Continue in the direction where you feel the fog thickening."
Harry, or at least his mind, watched and roamed the smoke like a ghost. The feeling of hovering in the void was extraordinary, much better than the feeling of flying on a broom. But strictly seeing nothing but white vapors surrounding him was beginning to be agonizing, almost as much as the complete darkness he had seen at the beginning of this experience. Then suddenly, Harry noticed a glow even more intense than that emitted by his surplus of magic, like a star as bright as the moon in a dark night dotted with bright stars.
"I see a strange glow," he said weakly. "She has a funny appearance, and it looks like smoke is coming out of her."
"It's probably your core, Gabriel. You did a great job! Approach her now."
Approaching more slowly than he would have liked, Harry took an incredibly long time to get right in front of his core. Even from here, its form intrigued him.
"I, who thought it would be round like a nut," muttered as he looked at it with curiosity.
"It acts in the same way as a shell of nuts," explained Marie-Louise. "To put it simply, if you took a fruit like a peach, your heart would be its core while your magic would be the flesh surrounding it. Your magic core is directly related to your heart, and if you die, then your magic dies with you."
"You mean that's what a heart looks like?" he says with horror.
"How the hell did you think it looked like? Fortunately, you only see the magic core surrounding it. I dare not imagine your reaction when I see him alive. Now let's move on to the first step. The most difficult for now will be to try to put your magic residue back inside your core. It's all about Gabriel's will."
Easier said than done, and to tell the truth, he had no idea how to proceed. But everything was a question of will, and the will that was currently animating him to exceed his abilities became omnipresent in him. Perhaps it was for this reason that he noticed that the envelope surrounding his heart, which was apparently his new magic, began to shine with even more intensity. Taken with a sudden urge, Harry wanted to touch this luminous shell that intrigued him so much, and so approached her with the firm intention of clarifying his doubts. Although he could not see or even feel it, his hand brushed against the magic envelope, and like a snowball effect, the magic residue surrounding them began to move, but in a perfectly ordered order in the direction of its magic core.
"The whitish fumes went inside of themselves, much to the relief of Harry who wondered if he should also intervene for that. Although unaware of his current state, he was nevertheless certain that he must be exhausted in reality, and the rhythm of his heartbeat could testify to this. Soon, the place in which he was composed only of him and of this brilliant source encompassing his heart which illuminated the surroundings by its clarity. At a glance, nothing else was present, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed that despite his efforts, his magic was still trying to escape from him."
"My magic tries to come out," he launched by observing the phenomenon taking place before his eyes, or at least in front of his field of vision.
"This is quite normal; you have not put in place psychic barriers preventing the escape of these magical residues. We'll see that in another session. You can come back to you, my son."
Eventually returning to the real world, Harry breathed a deep sigh realizing that he was very tired. Using his mind and recovering his surplus magic was just a psychic task, but he suddenly felt like he had run for several miles without stopping to catch his breath. If the first day was already exhausting, he preferred not to think about what awaited him afterward.
"So? How do you feel?"
"Tired," he muttered, noticing that his forehead was wet with sweat. "I never imagined it could be so exhausting."
"And you are far from having fully succeeded in your task," she said as she approached him to come and sit on a chair right next to his. "For now, you have only made your magic enter your core, but nothing prevents it from coming out. It will, therefore, be necessary for you to learn how to create barriers around it to preserve it. Let me check for myself," she added as she pulled out her magic wand.
"At first anxious when he saw her pointing her wand at him, he nevertheless quickly pulled himself together, thinking that she would do him no harm. At times his ability to believe that everyone could do him harm annoyed him. His mother, on the other hand, placed the tip of her magic wand on his forehead and mumbled a formula in a very ancient language, a mixture of Latin and foreign dialect."
"It is very interesting! You have completely recovered your magic. I did not think, to tell you the truth, that you would achieve such a result. Your training will be much faster than I thought."
"Delighted with these praises, Harry let himself go to a victorious smile, but Marie-Louise, who now had her eyes closed, did not notice him."
"It's strange," she said suddenly, frowning. "Your magic has been concentrated inside your core, but there is a tiny part of it that continues to escape in a perfectly orderly way, like a thin wire connecting your core to…"
"She suddenly paused and opened her eyes again, removing her hand, which she had held on top of Harry's skull. He looked at her strangely, wondering what she had discovered to make her stop her little examination so suddenly. Marie-Louise looked at him on her side in the same way, a multitude of thoughts swarming in her head to determine what she had seen inside him."
"Are you connected in any way to someone else by a magical contract?" she asked him in an interrogative voice.
"Why this question?"
"You see, when one person is registered with another inside a magical contract, their cores are somehow connected to each other by magic, they are, and as long as that contract isn't canceled, they'll stay that way as long as it takes. Some bonds may be definitive and impossible to break. Others, for example, can be created as a result of a debt that a person will incur after it has been saved by another, in this case, we will talk about life debt. Some of these liaisons can be harmful to both parties with, in some cases, total submission from one individual to another or a drop in the level of magic to keep control total on the person concerned. Has anyone made you sign a contract?"
"My father, that's how he made me this scar," he confessed by showing the wound he had on his wrist.
"For what type of contract did he oblige you to sign with your blood?" she asked, already apprehending the answer.
"Despite everything, contrary to what she would have imagined, Harry did not hide his emotion at all from this question and did not try to avoid the subject, quite the contrary. Contrary to being nervous or sad while remembering this day, her son sketched a huge smile almost blocking his face: Marie-Louise was sure she had never seen him smile like this before."
"A marriage contract," he said, without ceasing to smile. "I'm engaged to a girl I met when I was five on my little brother's birthday. Normally we have to get married when I'm seventeen and she's fifteen."
"A marriage contract?" she repeated with astonishment. "Who is the lucky one elected?"
"Daphne Greengrass," he answered, looking at her with eyes sparkling with joy. "She's the daughter of Lord Greengrass, a Wizengamot wizard like my father, and, but he apparently doesn't have as much money as he does and he lost a lot of it by wanting to prove that he's not a Death Eater."
"Do you get along well with this young lady?" she asked him, already wondering whether or not she should cancel this marriage contract.
"Oh yes! She is my first friend and the first to see me as anything but the brother of the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. We became very close from the first time we met and we wrote to each other frequently, at least that was before I went to this orphanage."
"His voice had suddenly lost all the gaiety that animated him a few seconds earlier, as every time he spoke of an event that made him unhappy. If he reacted the same way he did when he was talking about his real mother and little sister, it must have been because he really cared about that girl. Rather than let him mope in his melancholy, Marie-Louise opted for another solution: to fascinate him on his romantic relationship."
"Do you love her?" she questioned him, drawing a small smile at him.
"Of course, otherwise we would not be friends!"
"No, you did not understand!" she said with a slight smile. "I meant if you liked her like... Well, in the same way as two adults."
"The slight redness appearing on Harry's face certified that she had touched in the mile, while Harry was trying so hard to control his emotions. Yes, he loved Daphne, but did he love her in the same way as the love between the two parents of his fiancée? Hard to say from the top of her eight years, although all those months away from her had shown her how much he cared about her."
"Is she pretty?" Marie-Louise asked him without ceasing to savor the obvious embarrassment that Harry had about it.
"Yes, she is very beautiful. She has long hair so blond that it looks like golden threads reaching her to the middle of her back, and gorgeous blue eyes. Mom once told me that her irises made her think of the blue of the sea. She has small round cheekbones and a lovely little smile that makes me feel funny when I see her, and... But, why do you ask me that?"
"Since I am your adoptive mother, it will make this young lady my daughter-in-law. Do I not have the right to know more about the one who will later take my titles of nobility and give me grandchildren? You should see your head Gabriel," she added, noticing his embarrassment. "If I had known that this subject put you in such a state, I would have discussed it much earlier with you to joke with your aunt!"
"Red with shame, Harry wanted to hide his face in his arms crossed on the table in front of him, but the corset prevented him when he tried in vain to bend over. Merlin, this garment was going to make his life impossible."
"If you wish, you can write to her as much as you want," Marie-Louise informed him. "However, be careful not to reveal anything about what has happened to you since we met so as not to belittle your adoption and where you are now. I don't think Dumbledore is able to read a girl's correspondence, but do we ever know? Also try writing in French to blur the lines about yourself. The best thing would be to inform your young bride of your new identity by showing a lot of cunning."
"Could I see her one day?" he asked with a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Work properly and diligently, and I could grant you this favor. Think of it as a reward for your results."
"Harry acquiesced without showing himself in the least disappointed by the dilemma orchestrated by his mother. Lily herself threatened him not to visit Daphne if he did not perform the few household chores or did not complete his homework on time."
"I wanted to ask you," he began hesitantly.
"Don't hesitate to say anything that goes through your head, Gabriel. A man does not show his hesitation when addressing someone, otherwise he loses all credibility in his eyes. Your aunt will teach you all this during her lessons in a good way and savoir vivre."
"All right, so I noticed that the two times you gave someone money, you tended to turn around for a few seconds and use your wand before withdrawing some money. For what reason?"
"You are an observer, Gabriel," she said, sketching an appreciative smile. "I thought no one would notice my wand. To answer your question, the bag I use is a little special: This is a way given by Gringotts for its most prestigious clients when they want to withdraw money from their vaults without the need to go through the bank."
"How is it that you are a customer in this bank? Is it not English?"
"It is a common idea among English wizards to believe that their bank is national and that they are the only ones to have access to it. But not at all. Gringotts is a global bank present in all countries of the world with wizards among their population. Most of the time, goblins are very friendly towards the wizards of each country. I must even confess that I have some good friends among them, including the director of their bank, Lord Ragnok."
"Marie-Louise fell silent for a few moments, the time for her to use her wand to bring to her a thick work which she placed in front of Harry. The thickness was such that he made almost half of the stack of books Harry had to read."
"This book explains in great widths the evolution of goblin society since long before men learned to write. Read this to improve your knowledge about this community so unfairly criticized; it will be beneficial for you to undertake projects with them. As you can see for yourself, there is only in Great Britain that tensions still exist between sorcerers and goblins, especially since their revolt of 1328. This conflict opposed only the British to these charming creatures. The French openly associated themselves with the goblins in this war by providing them with weapons and money to finance their army, hence the fact that many English wizards took part in the fights of the muggle war that is called the 'Hundred-Year War.' My family also donated large amounts of gold to support Lord Ragnok, which is why today our family is so powerful and rich. Our fortune is largely due to the sums paid by the goblins as a thank you for our help. This people has great esteem for us, and they often give us thanks for certain sums. As for the money I gave this M.S. Cole and this sailor, it just came from one of my vaults, and with my magic wand, I can convert that money into another currency."
"Where is Gringotts located in this country?" he asked as she stood up from her chair.
"In the attic of the Basilica of St Denis," she replied quietly looking at a small clock placed between two books on a shelf. "The door is hidden by a spell that makes it invisible to the muggles. The goblins were afraid a few years ago that their hiding place was discovered when the muggles had the idea to remove all the bodies resting in this building. It had taken little that the French revolutionaries destroyed this church."
"Her gaze was lost for a few moments on a shelf behind Harry, and suddenly her eyes widened, much to the astonishment of her son."
"Divine goodness! Did you see the time? It's time to eat our lunch! Come Gabriel, I'll take you to our dining room. I doubt you can find your way by yourself for now."
"Very good, mother. Oh, I was gonna forget..."
"Yes? What've you?"
"I... I wanted to thank you once again for all that you do for me. I never imagined that all this could ever happen to me, and especially that you would make such great efforts for me. I don't know how to thank you for your kindness."
"Let's go, Gabriel. Be an exemplary son and a worthy representative of your new family, and it will suit me perfectly. Honor your new coat of arms and have an exemplary life without the slightest deviation, and you will fill me with pride. I don't want any money or even any services for what I do for you. I only want your well-being, and mine at the same time. Your presence will be beneficial to me, and at my age, having a young son is almost a miracle."
"Spreading an arm around his shoulders, Harry was led by his mother to the exit of the library without ceasing to smile. This woman was just great, and becoming what she wanted now became her main goal, a goal far more important than surpassing his little brother and making Lily proud. Having two mothers wasn't that bad."
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