CHAPTER: 10 A PRICELESS CHRISTMAS GIFT
"Several weeks had passed since the meeting between Harry and Mr. Ollivander, almost a month, to tell the truth, but Harry had not seen the time pass. Between his training courses of savoir-vivre, languages, and his outings in the company of Pauline in the park of the castle, his days were filled with activities as interesting as each other. But today was not really an ordinary day because unlike the other mornings he had spent so far, the magic classes he practiced with his mother were canceled for an unknown reason. Apparently, Marie-Louise was busy implementing a mysterious project that no one had heard of, not even his aunt.
In recent days, she spent a lot of time locked in a room where he had not yet had the opportunity to set foot, but according to some servants, it would be a workshop in which the princess of Lamballe made her potions away from prying eyes. No one dared to ask her what she was doing inside, not even him; everyone had their little secrets after all. But rather than taking advantage of this free time to laze foolishly in his room, Harry had decided to go for a walk in the kitchens while waiting for lunch to be served.
The castle actually had two rooms serving very large and spacious kitchens located near the wine cellar, a place he did not yet have permission to access. 'What would we say about you if you were close to the best vintages in the region? So wait until you are old enough to consume such drinks before thinking about tasting them,' had mockingly intimated Louise-Elisabeth one day when he had ventured into this part of the castle.
Anyway, the rooms where the meals were made were much more distracting to him than this long room containing huge barrels filled with wines, and it was, according to him, the liveliest place in the whole area. No fewer than eight cooks and cooks were busy in these two rooms to serve the most delicate and refined dishes for miles around and for the pleasure of the taste buds of the masters from chateau. The smell emanating from it was also a treat for his sense of smell, and the mixture of sweet and savory scents made him shudder every day with excitement at the idea of new meals that would soon be served.
It was also an amazing sight to see men and women cooking good food when he had until now always seen house elves doing it. Harry knew that human beings were not so lazy or unable to make their own food, but he had never had the opportunity to see it at work. Lily and James had become accustomed to delegating this to their house elves, although her mother had long expressed the desire to devote herself to this task, too, but James did not want it because it did not suit her status as Lady. She just had the right to make them a good hot chocolate when it was the same time as today, that is, snow in abundance and freezing temperatures well below 0°.
Harry would have liked to take the opportunity to use the mountain of snow offered to him, but Marie-Louise had forbidden him, a ban that followed many others. The more time passed, the more she behaved like a real mother for him, and this kind of prohibition would have been one of the restrictions that Lily would have given him.
But today was a special day for everyone since the same evening, no less than three masses would take place to celebrate Christmas, a party he knew only by name, he said, and it was better for him not to catch cold if he wanted to participate. Apparently, this feast was used to celebrate the birth of Jesus, the son of God and precursor of the Catholic religion, and it required a lot of work and a sumptuous dinner for the many people attending Masses in the castle chapel.
His belly suddenly began to gurgle, thus putting an end to the long reflection in which he was immersed. The kitchen was the place where you could easily find something to snack on, but nothing interesting was in the area, and though he looked for the slightest sweet treat that might appease his appetite while waiting for the meal, nothing came. Harry did not want to disturb the clerks and the chef to soothe his stomach; The poor chief cook was already on the verge of a nerve crisis in front of the staggering amount of food to prepare for tonight, asking him for a little chocolate was suicide.
It was, however, watching the chef go about in front of a stove that he finally found the coveted object: the chocolate container of the lunch cake. Although he has long since learned from his aunt that he had to pay attention to his manners in public, the sight of this dish made him want to lick his lips to express his desire, and less than a second later, his finger was pointed towards the container he greedily coveted.
'Accio bowl of chocolate.'
The small container containing the precious liquid fluttered up to him without arousing the attention of any cook present for his greatest joy. Anyway, everyone was too busy doing business in the kitchen to pay attention to him, at least that's what he thought. Delighted to be able to savor his little cute sin, Harry caught the bowl in flight and gazed with his amazed eyes at the thick brown liquid that just wanted to be eaten.
Raising his index finger to dip it in chocolate, he was, however, stopped by one of the cooks who tore off the container with a gesture by looking at him severely. For his part, caught at fault and totally at the mercy of the wrath that was going to fall on him, Harry preferred to look at his moccasins with a shameful air without daring to raise his eyes towards her.
'Here are the ways, Master,' she hurled in a dry tone while resting the bowl on its original location. 'Gluttony is a nasty flaw and all you will gain from it will be to be sick for eating too many sweets.'
'I'm sorry,' he muttered timidly, keeping his eyes down.
Although wanting to be firm with him, the cook could not help but be irreparably tenderized by the embarrassed and embarrassed air of his young lord, and although she wondered if he did it on purpose, this attitude made her flinch every time. No one could be angry with him because everyone had fallen under his spell, including the chef Giuseppe, an extravagant Italian who spends most of his time shouting and inventing new recipes that are as original as each other.
'Do you have nothing better to do than to come here, Master?' she asked him kindly, leaning towards him.
'I... I really like being here; it smells good…'
'Really? You prefer to smell the fish rather than... I do not know, write to your fiancée, for example?'
Harry, as was customary when this subject came in a conversation, began to blush slightly as he moved nervously in his chair. His betrothal, which was to be initially a subject only known to him and his mother, quickly became THE subject of choice for servants whenever one of them addressed him. Everyone wanted to learn even more about this mysterious girl but more out of the desire to tease their young master. 'Her sweetheart,' as had been nicknamed Daphne, must certainly have had them ears that whistled so much it was not a day without someone putting in a conversation this subject.
'You are so adorable when you blush, Master,' cooed the cook by picking a beautiful apple from a bowl that she handed him. 'You can eat this, although I doubt your mother would agree that you should have fun before meals. But don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret!'
'Thank you, Marthe!'"
"Marthe was the wife of Antoine Letimonier, his mother's personal coachman. Of all the cooks, she was probably the one he preferred, although unlike many servants, she was one of the few to set boundaries for him to prevent him from enjoying his status too much. She was a severe but just woman who took to heart, as much as Marie-Louise or Louise-Elisabeth, the education of her young prince. Like all servants working in the castle, she was not a witch, but that didn't stop her from helping Harry in his magical work and raving about the feats he could do with a simple wand.
"Martha!" suddenly called the chief cook with his Italian accent. "But what are you doing? The dishes will not be prepared on their own! Hop, hop!"
"At your command, you executioner," she muttered as she rolled her eyes.
"What do you say? I was not sure I understood your words."
"I said I was looking forward to finishing the cake!" she said quickly as she walked away to her kitchen table. "There was nothing missing but chocolate!"
"Oh yes, a good chocolate cake! There is nothing better to finish a meal in style!"
"You should go back to the dining room, Master," informed him discreetly Marthe by resuming her work. "Madam must already wait for you, and the meal is almost done."
The clock hung in the room actually displayed ten and a quarter hours, and knowing the legendary punctuality of his new family, there was little chance that they were not already seated. Thanking the cook with a simple smile, Harry rushed out of the kitchen without running and breaking the noble and distinguished attitude he was beginning to forge. A nobleman does not run, at least not in public, and the castle was never empty.
Quickly eating the apple that Marthe had given him, he made the core disappear with a stroke of a wand to erase the evidence of his overeating, but also for the simple pleasure of seeing her at work. The distance between the room he had just left and the dining room was enormous and left him ample time to implement his plan. When his package was executed, as he said, he left immediately, trying to erase as best as possible the traces on his face or his hands. Two precautions are better than one, as they say.
As he expected, everyone was already there, even Marie-Louise, but the meal times followed a guideline not to break, and arriving late was very frowned upon, as he easily understood when he saw the look of his aunt. The three women had sat around the large oval-shaped table on which stood dozens of cutleries and as many dishes waiting only to be eaten.
"You are late, Gabriel," she said, pointing to the chair next to her with a gesture.
Respect for schedules was apparently a subject that should not be joked about, as the stern expression she displayed was almost frightening. Harry was sure he had never seen her with that face before.
"Remind me to thank you later," Pauline whispered to him when he had taken a seat at the table. "I purposely missed one of her staggering sewing lessons, and before you were late for that meal, I, my mother was giving me one of her usual sermons for my lack of seriousness in my work."
"I didn't want to be," he said, looking down at his empty plate for now. "I didn't see the time in the kitchen. And then I trained with my wand…"
"That you have no right to hold, Gabriel, at the table," reminded him of his mother in front of him. "You can't leave your wand alone for more than thirty seconds?" she launched, looking with a slight hint of disapproval at her adopted son holding the said object in his hand. "She's not gonna disappear, you know, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry, mother," he apologized timidly by storing it in the case he was holding under his shirt sleeve.
She simply nodded before beckoning the two servants present to lift the lids of the different dishes and show them the tasty dishes already cooked. The room was immediately filled with delicious smells, although, as his mother pointed out, the dishes had probably already cooled slightly due to his absence. So Harry preferred to excuse his deviations by not mentioning the very existence of his wand, although it was difficult for him. It was true that he spent a lot of time, if not all his free time, with this wand in hand, but by his own admission, he had fallen completely madly in love with it.
His wand had become like the eighth wonder of the world to him, a wonder he cherished and protected from possible threats that might appear. This priceless treasure for him was easily comparable to the Grail that any adventurer in search of a strong sensation or fleece would covet, gold that a defiant Greek hero would steal from the claws of a dragon. Who would want it after all? The wand followed all his life his buyer and this one suited him perfectly and on all points. No detail had been forgotten, and the measures Ollivander had taken over the entire surface of his body could attest to this. It seemed apparently obvious to the old manufacturer that the size of his little toe and the wand he was going to carve for him complement each other beautifully.
"What were you doing, Gabriel, to be so punctual?" Louise-Elisabeth asked him, turning to him.
"I... I was in the kitchens to see what the clerks were going to prepare today."
"You haven't eaten yet, I hope?" his mother asked him by beckoning one of the servants to bring him a dish.
Despite all the precautions he had taken to hide his greed, Harry was totally disconcerted by the insistent look that Marie-Louise threw at him and totally lost his means. Merlin, this woman seemed to be impossible to fool.
"A simple apple," he confessed without raising his eyes from his plate.
"May this not happen again, Gabriel," she said without raising her voice. "You start with an apple and you will end up as impotent as Prince Palatine. His overeating was legendary and it cost him much more than his physical health," she questioned him by serving herself from the dishes.
One point that surprised him when he arrived here was the fact that the French tended to serve themselves from the dishes, unlike the English who preferred to be served by their servants. The Potter house elves also had to do this, despite Lily's protests, and Harry had to learn to calculate for himself the portions of food he would eat.
"Certainly, and Aunt Louise explained to me the course of this feast in its outline."
"All right because I wanted to inform you that this mass will take place in the presence of the Bishop of Saint-Brieuc, who will give us the immense honor of his presence. The chapel will, therefore, be a gathering place for many of the inhabitants of Lamballe, so pay attention to your behavior and show yourself worthy of your rank. There is nothing more disrespectful than being rude in front of a churchman, and let us not talk about the gossip that could emerge among the population of the village…"
"We had to admit that gossip was the heart of the village, feeding people's conversations regardless of their social status and gender. For over a month now, Harry had had the opportunity to discover that people functioned like this, spreading rumors and stories about this or that person, whether positive or negative. He himself was the main topic of many discussions. Everyone wanted to see him, know him, and then brag about it to their friends. It would be dishonest to say that this sudden popularity had not been beneficial; his personality had slowly evolved, and from the shy little boy when he arrived, he had become much more confident and communicative with the people he met. This was especially true with some adults he had taken affection for and even with some children who were delighted to play with him. It wasn't every day, after all, that one could have fun with a prince, and the candidates for this post were numerous.
At first, Harry had to endure the curious looks of the inhabitants of Lamballe and their insistence on wanting to see the adopted son of their beloved mistress up close. Over time, this curiosity slowly gave way to the same respect they had for Marie-Louise. Harry had to get used to seeing men and women much older than his own mother bow respectfully before him. The height of this was probably during one of their outings in the city of Lamballe when almost the whole village had gathered in the town hall square to welcome the princess of Lamballe and her entourage.
Fortunately, the Muggle authorities had not been made aware of this arrival; otherwise, Marie-Louise would have been in a very unfortunate situation. A simple outing to buy potion ingredients had turned into a fight to leave the village and return to the castle. Suffice to say that similar agitation was likely to happen tonight, and his presence could be the occasion for many religious individuals to spy on him without the least scruple.
"I brought from Paris an outfit specially for this occasion," informed Marie-Louise in the tone of the conversation. "Fashion has evolved a lot since the end of the monarchy. You should have seen the extravagant outfits that this seamstress showed me. The trend would be towards antiquity, apparently."
"I heard that it was because of the discovery of this Italian city Pompeii, if I am not mistaken," thoughtfully added Louise-Elisabeth. "I do not think these dresses would fit me, but I would be very curious to discover these new creations."
The discussion, as was customary, partly focused on this, but it was understandable. Clothing was a favorite subject for women regardless of age. Both were after all very girly, and in Harry's opinion, Pauline seemed to take the same path as them, although she claimed otherwise. The only thing he regretted at the time was that magic was not a much-loved topic of conversation at the table—a wish of his mother, who just wanted to forget her status as a witch for a while and assume the one she had in the eyes of Muggles. Therefore, it was not uncommon for him to feel slightly left out during meals. Perhaps over time, this would change, and taking an interest in the Muggle world could benefit him in his future social conversations.
"But it will never be as valuable as magic," he whispered to himself without realizing that the other three had heard it.
Several hours later, after a lively evening full of surprises, Harry, his stomach full and his eyes still filled with stars, lay in bed with his spellbook open in front of him. Despite the late hour, the young prince could not sleep because of the images that still crossed his mind. He had never seen anything so incredible before, and the Latin songs sung in the huge chapel of the castle still echoed in his ears, giving him the impression of always being there. Attending a mass was already amazing, but three masses—'of Angels,' 'of Shepherds,' and 'Divine Word'—had no equal to amaze an eight-year-old.
This evening would stay engraved in his mind for a long time. For now, Harry preferred to use his time of insomnia to do something useful rather than rehashing the good memories. That's why he was there, reading lines and lines of spells and explanations without fully understanding the meaning. The illustrations on each page allowed him to see more clearly. The books he had to read numbered in the tens, but Harry was not the type to give up in front of such a workload. In fact, it would even be the opposite because it allowed him to indulge in his favorite activity at will: reading.
In more than a month of hard work, Harry had made huge strides in everything related to magic. Especially concerning his small problem of magic residues escaping a little too often from his wand. His defenses were still weak and fragile, but he had achieved a rather satisfactory result. In addition to all this, Harry had also begun to learn occultism, which was no different from what he was already doing with his wand. The only difficulty was to manage to push back his mother during his intrusions in his head and especially to feel her presence because Marie-Louise had the unfortunate tendency to surprise him at any time of the day without warning him of her little shenanigans.
"Your opponent will not warn you when he casts a spell, Gabriel," she reminded him one day when he complained about it. "Anyone with a minimum of knowledge in Legilimency can use it to extract vital information about you and the people you love."
So, he redoubled his efforts in this case. Hence the reason why he practiced magic even when everyone slept in the castle. Tonight, no occlusion, but just a few attempts to put to good use all that he had learned from the Disarmament spell. There were unfortunately no chopsticks in the area except the one he held in his hand, but maybe another object could do the trick. Looking stealthily into his room in search of a potential target, his choice fell on a small decorative object that he cared little about.
"Expelliarmus!" he exclaimed, pointing his wand.
A ray of light escaped from his wand to come and hit the small porcelain trinket placed on the chest of drawers of his room. Rather than blowing it up like a magic wand into his hand, the small, fragile object literally exploded into dozens of pieces, much to his horror. His accuracy was good apparently, but in terms of the amount of magic used, he still had progress to make.
"Darn! I put too much power into my spell!" he muttered when he got up from his bed to admire the damage.
The object was indeed in a pitiful state, but not irreparable. A simple "Reparo" would do the trick, even if he had never had the opportunity to use this spell before. Fumblingly turning the pages of his manual in search of this spell, he finally found it at the very end of the book and immediately hastened to memorize the movements to be accomplished to use it.
"Reparo," he said after long minutes of reading.
The small basin immediately reformed, but a few cracks were still visible on its surface.
"It's not too bad," he said, looking at the result of his work.
Several knocks were suddenly given on his door before it opened slightly, without, however, letting glimpse the person disturbing the calm of this winter night. Harry, out of fear of being caught doing magic rather than sleeping, hurriedly threw his wand onto the nearest chair as he closed the manual he was holding in his hands.
"Gabriel?" called his mother from the other side of the door. "Are you decently dressed?"
"Mother? Oh... Yes, you can come in."
The door finally opened completely, and Marie-Louise entered Harry's room, guided by the small cup holding a candle that she held between her fingers. The hour was late, and Harry noticed that she was wearing only a simple nightgown underneath a dressing gown. Her strange grayish hairstyle had been removed, and her real hair was covered by a small nightcap that she tried to place correctly with her other hand.
"Do I hope not to disturb you? Maybe I should have come to see you tomorrow morning instead of interrupting you in what you were doing..."
"Don't worry, Mother, I had just finished getting ready to go to bed," he said quickly, putting away with a discreet kick the manual he had previously read under his chest of drawers. "You're not bothering me at all."
His mother smiled at him and came to sit on his bed while laying her small cup on the edge of his nightstand. With a gesture of her hand, she invited him to do the same, and Harry quickly joined her by taking a seat next to her.
"How did you find this evening?" she asked him to interrupt the moment of silence that had set in.
"Very interesting, I must say," he confessed, remembering the fabulous Mass in which he had just participated. "I never imagined until a few weeks ago that you would do this kind of ceremony to celebrate important moments written in the Bible. Mom doesn't have the opportunity to do it at home because Ja... my father didn't want it, but I think it could have been a good idea."
"We will still have the opportunity to attend many other ceremonies of this kind, especially when the problems we are facing with the Muggle authorities are resolved. In particular, you should think about a date for your baptism in case you agree to open yourself to God. I fully imagine how that would go..."
The following minutes were the scene of a long monologue on how the ceremony would take place, the people to be invited, and the outfits that each would wear. Harry let her talk without daring to cut her, approving with a simple nod of his head the few times she asked for his opinion on a specific subject. The rest of the time, he looked at the flickering flame of the candle placed on her table from bedside.
"You did not come here to tell me about my baptism, am I wrong?" he finally asked her when she finally stopped.
"No, in truth, if I came here to bother you, it is for a very precise reason..."
"And what is it?" he inquired as he looked at her curiously.
"I'd like to give you a special gift, so to speak."
From her dressing gown, Marie-Louise took out two small flasks a few seconds later and placed them in Harry's hands. Curious, Harry examined them at length, from the shape of the glass containing them to the color of each potion inside. The first was scarlet red and slightly thicker than water, resembling blood, while the second was bluish with shades of gray and gave the impression of being bottled water, particularly pure water.
"What is it?" he asked her, turning his attention back to her.
"How to tell you... I have been thinking a lot lately about you and the effect that your arrival in my life has had. Until about two months ago, I imagined myself becoming an elderly old lady ending my days in this old castle and bitterly regretting not having given myself the opportunity to give meaning to my life. Until now, my existence was all traced by my parents and revolved exclusively around my husband and the pomp of the court. But I still felt deep down that something was missing to make me fully happy, something I have discovered since you arrived here in this castle. Perhaps you will find this awkward to hear since you are, after all, a man, but I love you very much, Gabriel, and in your company, I was finally able at leisure to use my knowledge on this role of a mother that escaped me until then. Now I do not think only of myself when I make a decision but of both of us because our destinies are now linked to each other and I hope for a long time."
His mother's words touched him enormously, especially since he felt the same on his side. But her intuition was telling him that Marie-Louise was not telling him everything, and he needed to scratch a little the surface to understand why she had come to see him at such a late hour.
"Where do you want to come from?" he asked her before weighing in on her lack of tact.
"I want to adopt you and make you my son."
Harry immediately frowned, staring curiously at her. Something apparently escaped him...
"But am I not already?" he asked himself silently if he had not been mistaken until now and had not been a little too carried away by joy in calling her mother for nearly two months.
"No, finally, yes," she stammered with an embarrassed air. "But I meant my son from a biological point of view."
There, Harry could only admit that he was one can no longer be overtaken by this proposal. How could he become it? A child could not have three parents, at least biologically. Did Marie-Louise laugh at him? Was she making him a bad joke to celebrate Christmas? A funny way to celebrate such an event, anyway. But her serious air seemed to intimidate him, the opposite. No one would joke about such an important subject.
"For what reasons?" he asked simply, looking at her in a perplexed air.
"There are several reasons explaining this will that animates me to tell you everything, but I will try to make it simple. First of all, because my personal fortune amounts to several million galleons and francs, and at my death, this fortune would be attributed to unscrupulous people who would have done nothing to deserve it. I want to tell you this, brothers and sisters, cousins and cousins, nephews and nieces that I have not seen for a long time could overnight inherit from what I own. I don't want everything I've ever gotten into the hands of vultures thinking only of my money. My fortune will come right back to you, and I prefer to entrust it to you, knowing that it will be in good hands. There is also the fact that I have excellent relations with goblins, and I will be very sad to see these centuries of agreements between my family and these charming creatures reduced to nothing. I need someone to continue my work and the business I have set up with them, especially my investments in inventors and other great doctors. Besides, my vaults only open for a person with the same blood as me. As for the Muggle world, the name of the Savoy has always been highly respected in the governments of Europe, especially in the royal courts. If you weren't already engaged, I wouldn't have been surprised to see dozens of suitors fall in love with you, even princesses. You will have to make our influence continue in the eyes of the world and use the power that you get from this name to make a place with our leaders. Finally, and this is much more personal, I will admit that I have always wanted to have a son, and knowing that you have the same blood in you as mine would make me feel like I'm fully your mother and not just your adoptive mother. Some people do not differentiate between these two statuses, but this is much more difficult for me to accept. A whim, will you tell me, but you are not far from the truth, to tell the truth…"
Harry finally understood her motives, although the very idea of accepting her proposal could not yet make its way into his mind. This choice would be perhaps the most important of his life, and he was not sure he wanted to choose, at least for now.
"This potion," added Marie-Louise, pointing to the small vial containing the reddish liquid without noticing her change of mood, "is a blood-adoption filter that will make you my son in the same way as if I really had you eight years ago. My blood will flow through your veins, and you will be a full member of the Savoy royal family."
"Do you mean that the blood that I already own will be replaced by yours? But isn't that dangerous?"
"In truth, it will be very complicated, more than you can imagine. The blood contains, in truth, what is commonly called genes coming from both the father and the mother, and these genes would have an impact on the appearance and personality that each person develops. That would be why, for example, you have your mother's eyes, or I inherited my own brown hair," she said. "Until not so long ago, no one thought that these similarities between a child and his parents came from the very blood flowing through his veins. Wizards working specifically on this have come to light on this discovery very recently. I myself partially funded this research and was the first to develop some potions never before observed elsewhere in the world. This one is also unique in its kind."
"What is special about her?" he questioned her, closing his grip on the two vials in his hand.
"Blood is divided into two categories of genes: those of the father and the mother. The blood adoption potion has existed for a very long time, even centuries, but mine is different because it removes part of a person's genetic heritage. If my husband had been alive, I would have given you the first drink, but since I am the only person who adopted you, I had to resolve to give you its modified form."
Harry didn't know what to think of this announcement because it apparently meant parting with the legacy his mother left him or his father. In all his life, he would never have thought of making such a decision, let alone accepting this proposal from a woman he did not know two months ago.
Moreover, discovering that blood could make it possible to realize this kind of feat astonished him enormously: Until now, he had never been interested in that branch of magic that many people affiliated with black magic, Dumbledore first. But the woman sitting next to him perfectly contradicted the preconceived ideas because there could be no kinder and just person on this Earth than the Princess of Lamballe. The magic of blood was not yet a subject that Marie-Louise had planned to teach him, let alone show him, but the possible prowess was interesting to say the least. Who knows what he could do with his own blood? His mother had already given his own to strengthen the power of his wand by pretexting a family tradition, so why could he not do the same? By the way, thinking back, Harry had already had the opportunity a few weeks ago to give his blood to his mother for some obscure reason… Could it be that she used it to use it in any other way as for?
"Wait," he said to confirm the intuition he had just had, "that day when you took a little blood from me on the pretext that it would be useful for my wand… It was really to study it and design this potion, wasn't it?"
"Nothing can be hidden from you, Gabriel," she said, smiling with a guilty air. "Indeed, I had, as I told you, this idea in mind for a long time now, and I somehow anticipated your decision by preparing in advance this potion. I also assumed that the choice of genetic material you'd like to give up was a foregone conclusion if I relied on the relationship you had with your parents."
"You mean that... I would have no more connection with the Potters if I drink your potion?" he asked in a suddenly worried voice.
"With them and all the families who have been closely or remotely linked to them in recent centuries. You will get in return the heritage of my family and those of my ancestors, and believe that by making this choice, you could be related to several dynasties of European kings. To give you an image, tell yourself that you would somehow be the fruit of the union between Lily Potter and myself."
Although not yet knowing where children came from and still believing in the old stories of boys being born in cabbages and girls in roses, Harry knew that parents had something to do with it, even though the very concept of creating a child was still too complex for him. So imagining Lily and Marie-Louise creating it was relatively easy to undertake, especially since James was not part of the picture now. But another reality suddenly caught up with him: abandoning the Potter family's genetic heritage meant no longer having a kinship with James and his grandparents. As far as his father was concerned, he was more than happy with it: This man had never done anything good for him and had only made him hateful toward him by continually belittling and brutalizing him.
But regarding Charlus and Dorea Potter, his feelings were totally opposite. His grandparents had been wonderful with him, listening to his problems, patient to explain various things about him, concerned about his well-being, and especially loving. They had been the only ones with Lily, Remus, and later the Greengrass to wish him his birthday and simply acknowledge his existence. No one could blame him after all for thinking that what he could do was almost like betrayal, not even Marie-Louise, who used discreetly on him the Legilimency to know his impressions in relation to his proposal.
What she saw for the moment did not augur well for her, and it was with a slight hint of regret that she ended the reading of her son's mind. Harry apparently didn't want to be adopted biologically, and his dream of one day seeing a child with the same blood that she was collapsing with this refusal. He did not have to be a great wizard to realize the emotions confronting inside him; his face showed him perfectly well. His eyes themselves began to fill with tears as time passed, as his body was traversed by slight jolts due to his emotions.
"I'm sorry, Gabriel," she nervously apologized by gently rocking him. "I should not have offered you this offer; I do not know what took me to give you this choice and steal part of your life in this way. It was not right of me to come to you to satisfy one of my personal desires…"
"That's not it; it's just that accepting your offer would mean giving up the family ties I had with my grandparents, and I loved them very much," he said to reassure her. "But you have been wonderful to me since I met you, and being your son is one of the most beautiful things that ever happened to me. My grandfather Charlus often told me that it is not by blood or by his surname that a man forges his fame but by what he has accomplished throughout his life. Men remember only those who have made history by their exploits and not by their name or title."
"Your grandfather seemed to be a very wise man," affirmed his mother, distractedly caressing his hair. "It is a pity that a man of this ilk so tragically ended his life. I understand better why you want to keep a link with him…"
"My grandfather wanted what was best for me, and I am sure that from where he is he would approve the choice I make."
Before his mother could even stop him, Harry unscrewed the cap of the small vial and milked the scarlet potion, forever changing the course of his life. The filter did not have a very unpleasant taste, even if the blood which apparently held a large place in its composition was still felt and gave the liquid a bitter taste.
"It's a pity that the potions don't all taste like chocolate or orange juice," he cursed while wearing a disgusted pout.
But Marie-Louise did not pay attention to what he said, still too shocked to even say anything. Had she dreamed? The boy next to her had really just swallowed a potion binding him to her forever?
"G-Gabriel, you... You were not obliged to do so…"
"I wanted to, and I'm glad I did," he solemnly said. "My grandparents and I may not have the same blood anymore, but I don't need that to feel connected to them. As long as I keep them there, as long as their memory remains etched in me, then they will always be my family."
Harry had during his little speech put his fist on the left side of his chest as if to show him that he kept a place for them in his heart. Marie-Louise stared at him, raising her eyebrows, always astonished at the maturity of the young boy sitting next to her for his age. Perhaps what he had experienced so far had succeeded in forging for him, before adulthood, a philosophy and reasoning that many middle-aged men would be unable to have. Despite all this, the only thought that came to mind right now was that Harry had just given her the greatest gift she ever had for the Christmas holidays: Real family. Although her barriers of occultism were very resistant, she had a hard time not bursting into tears in the face of this gift that she no longer hoped for, but she did not deny herself the right and pleasure of expressing her gratitude to her son by holding him firmly against her.
"Thank you, Gabriel," she sighed in the hollow of his ear. "You can't imagine how much joy you fill me with."
"I owed you that," he said, responding to her embrace. "This is just one way of thanking you for what you have done for me. And that way, I could really call you 'mother' without thinking internally about the fact that we do not have a kinship."
His now biological mother sketched a huge smile, blocking his face as he heard this before finally releasing Harry, who also seemed quite radiant. This evening was finally held under good auspices.
"The process of metamorphosis should be painful enough for you, so also take this Dreamless Sleep Potion so that you do not have to suffer during the night."
Harry did as she asked, and moments later, he now held two completely empty vials that Marie-Louise hastened to put back in his pocket. The potion quickly took effect, and in less than thirty seconds, Harry began to feel the fatigue of the winner little by little. His eyelids were starting to get heavy as his eyesight became blurred despite his glasses.
"This potion is incredible," he muttered while his mother helped him lie under the covers. "I feel so tired..."
"A vial of this size would be able to put a horse to sleep as fast as a musket ball," she explained, taking off her glasses. "Do not become fond of this filter because you will not get anything good from it except a sickly addiction for it."
"I doubt that fatigue can happen as quickly as you claim, mother... Nothing can be as sleepy as a speech by Dum…Dumbledore on his theories of the 'greatest good'..."
Marie-Louise was tempted to propose some objections to his assertion, but time unfortunately did not allow her to spread on the subject because Harry fell asleep soon after. The room was silent again, at least almost: the violent wind blowing outside resembling howls of ghosts disturbed despite all the tranquility that had settled. Harry's adoptive mother sat there for a long time watching him sleep, occasionally gently stroking his face except when she saw strange bumps appear and then disappear on his skin to examine them thoroughly. The potion was already beginning to take effect, but the later hour did not allow her to stay here to wait for the end of the physical metamorphosis of her son.
"The surprise will wait until tomorrow," she mused, tenderly kissing Harry's forehead. "Sleep well, Gabriel."
Then, with a snap of a finger, all the lights in the room went out immediately, leaving the young owner of the room to rest peacefully without suspecting the important changes operating at home.
The first thing that surprised Harry the next day when he woke up was the fact that he could see perfectly well the falling curtains around his bed and down to the smallest detail the patterns sewn into it, the fabrics. For a moment, he thought he had forgotten to take off his glasses the day before and to lie down with them, taking the risk of breaking them, but a quick inspection of his face with both hands assured him that he was not wearing them. Rising slightly to be more comfortable, he blinked to check that this sudden visibility was not only transient and realized that he could even see the time on the clock posed several meters in front of his bed.
"Nine o'clock twenty-seven. Wow, I'm not even sure I can read it with my glasses from where I am…"
Taken in an irresistible urge, Harry immediately tried them and realized that the lenses of his glasses suddenly hurt his eyes. There could only be one conclusion to this phenomenon: His glasses no longer fit him, and his sight had become perfect again. An immense smile appeared immediately on his face, thinking that from now on he would no longer need to wear this horrible object that reminded him so much of James Potter. As if the workings of his brain had set in motion this thought, Harry quickly recalled the events of the day before and in particular the decision he had made before going to bed. If he no longer shared his view with James, it certainly meant that other changes had to occur in his home. The potion had worked well.
Another proof of what he was advancing was the strand of brown hair falling before his left eye, which he examined for a long time with his fingertips as if he still did not believe it, that all this was just a dream. But no, the wick he was holding was very real and above all belonged to him, as he realized by shooting slightly at it. Harry was tempted to repeat the experiment and pull every inch of hair he had on the top of his skull, but as he was getting ready to put his fingers into his scalp, several blows were struck at his door.
"It must be Francoise and Martine," he said, quickly extending himself under his covers. "Merlin, I would never understand why they absolutely want to serve me breakfast in bed. Enter!"
As usual, Francoise was the first to enter her den with her eternal smile as bright as the sun, a smile she had never stopped having since Harry had arrived here. Serving a young prince was apparently a task she enjoyed more than was necessary.
"Good morning, Master," she launched, keeping the door open for her colleague. "We were just wondering if you were up? The evening of the day before is very exhausting for those who do not have the habit of going to bed late... I always said that this Mass must be shortened; finally, I am never listened to…"
Her smile, however, disappeared when she discovered Harry's new face, and the good mood quickly gave way to frank disbelief.
"By all the saints... It's... It's incredible!"
Martine did not lead wide, and the tray she held threatened at any moment to fall on the floor as the shock was immense.
"Pinch me, I dream! Is it you, Master?"
"O-yes, why? Is there something wrong?"
For any answer, Francoise pushed back the covers covering him and quickly dressed him in a dressing gown before guiding him to the bathroom. Led almost by force, Harry wondered what was wrong with him to provoke such behavior on the part of his chambermaids? Maybe the potion had failed, and he had become as hideous as a monster? Perhaps a third eye had appeared on his forehead? Maybe his nose was no longer in the right place? Internally, he berated himself for not having checked in more detail his appearance when he had touched his face earlier. He hoped, in any case, that nothing had happened too unfortunate; otherwise, he would not dare to leave his room until the end of his life.
"You may have a shock," warned Francoise by leading him to the dressing table in the bathroom. "Magic is really fascinating; I never thought these changes could be so impressive!"
"Did my mother not let you know?"
"Oh, yes! But to be honest, we thought she was making us a good joke, although in hindsight, we have to admit that it's not her type," she said, helping him sit down. "I will never doubt her word again... So, how do you find yourself?"
Harry didn't have to wait for her to ask him to admire himself in the mirror reflection, and the least he could say when he saw himself was that he himself would never have thought that his appearance would change so much. In front of him stood a boy with brown hair, slightly wavy, falling behind his neck, who also looked at him with the same bewildered expression. His skin was a hue oscillating between ivory and diaphanous complexion, giving him the appearance of being one of Daphne's many porcelain dolls. His face itself had evolved greatly, and many of the similarities he shared with James Potter had been replaced by features more like Marie-Louise. In truth, the image that emerged from the mirror gave him the impression of having before his eyes a princess of Lamballe forty years younger with a male figure and green eyes. Shocked by his new appearance, Harry could not, however, prevent observing himself in all aspects, not omitting any detail, as if he still could not believe that the boy in front of him was none other than his own reflection. His size had not changed, but he still felt that his body had become more athletic and slender while keeping his side slender. Merlin, if he had been a girl, he would most certainly have fallen in love with the boy in front of him.
"Is it... me?" he asked with an incredulous air.
"It would seem," replied Francoise, passing herself delicately a hand in his hair. "Divine goodness, we will no longer have to put dozens of products on your hair to style them!"
"This is one of the many points that I will not miss," Martine added, checking the skin of her young prince's back. "The marks have even disappeared! It's like his father never hit him!"
Harry let them speak together without daring to enter their conversation because of his still very limited level of French. But the gentle caresses that he could feel behind his back allowed him to know that he no longer had those horrible traces of belts. The slight deformation that he even had to the right shoulder blade, hereditary inheritance of the Potter, had given way to a bone in perfect working order.
"I look forward to showing my new appearance to Mother!" he exclaimed suddenly without noticing that he had spoken in English to his chambermaids.
Both of them obviously did not understand what he had said, at least not in broad outline, but the happiness of their little prince touched their hearts more than they had to. Finally, it was before Harry rushed in his dressing gown to his room to run out without taking time to have lunch and wash.
"M-Master! You must dress up!" Martine called just before Harry disappeared into the hallway.
Her young master had nothing to do with it and did not retrace his steps despite her appeals. Disappointed and especially slightly dissatisfied with Harry's unworthy behavior, Martine did not lose heart and was about to pursue him to tell him her way of thinking, but the outstretched arm of her colleague stood in front of her, preventing her from implementing her plan.
"Come on, Martine, for once in the year, Prince Gabriel has the right to derogate from certain rules. Do not forbid him these little moments of happiness," said Francoise, smiling slightly.
"But... What will our mistress say when she discovers her regalia? It is unworthy to introduce yourself to others in dressing gown and not even shoe! I can't imagine what she'll tell us when she sees this! I will not be surprised that she chases us from the castle with a stick for not having properly done our job!"
"Have you seen her once in your life hitting people with a stick?" she asked him, shaking her head. "I even doubt that she scolds him for what he has just done; she will be too happy with the magnificent gift he will present to her."
Far from it now, and without worrying for his part about the reaction that his mother would have for his shattering entry into her room, he, Harry, traveled very quickly through the castle in search of the room where Marie-Louise was currently sleeping. The castle was empty this morning, contrary to usual when a certain agitation reigned there, but little mattered to him. After all, he no longer needed anyone to help him find his way; this place had now become very familiar to him. But the calm there was slightly agonizing, far from the din caused last night by the religious songs of the Mass.
The master bedroom was on the same floor as hers anyway, but at the other end of the wing, and it was only a few meters from his door that Harry realized he had never entered it. The image of a den in which a hideous creature lurked crossed his mind when he grabbed the door handle as he suddenly regretted not coming with him. How would she react when she saw him enter her intimacy? Would she be the violent type and able to give him a correction for having acted with impunity in this way?
"You're an idiot, Harry; that woman would be the last person I could imagine doing this," he muttered as he shook his head to chase away his dark thoughts.
Her mother's room was not really different from his, except for the dozens of clothes and accessories visible everywhere in the room and the delicious smell of perfume present in the air. The room was for now almost in the dark, preventing any visitor from being able to dwell on the details and paintings of the walls and ceilings, but this could wait for Harry. What could not remain, however, was Marie-Louise's reaction when she discovered his new face, and for this, the large bottle-green velvet curtains had to be pulled quickly, which he did with good grace. Groping in near darkness to find his way, Harry made his way to the huge bottle-green velvet curtains, which he hastened to open using the rope to allow light in.
"Stand up, Mother! The sun is shining, the birds are singing! And it's Christmas!"
His adoptive mother contented herself with uttering a slight growl unworthy of her condition, turning away from the windows, which now blinded her, letting in all the external luminosity. Harry might have become frightened to help her wake up, Marie-Louise let herself go as it was customary to laziness by continuing her sleep.
"Mother! Called Harry as he went around the bed. Mother! Wake up!"
"Hm... Let me sleep a little more," she muttered as she turned to the other side.
Far from becoming discouraged, Harry climbed on it and began to jump happily on the mattress, intimidating Marie-Louise's order to wake up. It took her almost five minutes before her mother agreed to open her eyes to face a little boy jumping in front of her.
"What do I see? I did not know that my servants had brought a little jumping monkey to the castle to wake me up," she said in a pasty voice, smiling slightly.
Harry eventually stopped his ride and sat on the bed to give her time to stare at him. It was better in this way to show her immediately the changes made at home since in any case there was no possibility of being able to hide his face for a long time. But his mother still seemed too tired to notice these kinds of details, and despite his efforts, Harry had to surrender to the evidence: Marie-Louise was definitely not a morning person.
"What time is it?" she asked in a sleepy voice, rubbing her eyes.
"It must be almost ten o'clock," he replied, looking at her with curiosity. "Why do you wear makeup when you go to bed?"
"To keep an exceptional complexion in all circumstances, especially for the nocturnal visitors. It would be unworthy not to be presentable when one comes to inquire about my person. Ceruse white is particularly useful for keeping a diaphanous skin color."
"Aren't we late for lunch?" he questioned her, noting that both were still in night clothes.
"It's Christmas, Gabriel, as you reminded me so well. It must be the only day of the whole year where the rules of use are prohibited to make way for a more family intimacy. Most of the servants are at home anyway to celebrate with their family this beautiful event."
"Don't you see a change in me?" he finally asked, noting that she had not noticed anything yet.
His mother looked at him in amazement, as he easily noticed. Soon, her eyes widened, and her hand immediately went to her mouth, which she had opened in a rather comical manner, giving her the air of a fish coming out of her water. It was the first time he had seen her shocked at this point, and for a moment, he was afraid of causing her a shock strong enough to kill her. A woman nearly fifty years old did not have the same heart as another twenty years old. What he did not expect was to see the woman in front of him, who usually seemed so strong and in control of his emotions, shed a simple tear while looking at him in such a touching way that he himself felt weak. Fiercely throwing her blankets next to her, Marie-Louise took him without further delay in her arms in an embrace to crush his bones. His mother seemed to be sobbing on his shoulder now, while on his side, he did not know how to react to this reaction.
"M-Mother?" he muttered in a trembling voice. "You don't feel well?"
"So rest assured," she said, moving slightly away from him. "I've never felt so good in a long time."
Her face was even more radiant than the day before when he had drunk that potion, and seeing that, Harry thought that he would have liked to drink it earlier just so he could see his adoptive mother so happy. December 25 was now a date to be marked with a red iron, a date that definitively sealed his life and those of many other people.
"Merry Christmas, Mother," he said, smiling as he lay down beside her.
"To you too, my dear. Now let us take advantage of this day to spend a morning just the two of us in this bed," she proposed, folding her blankets over them.
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