CHAPTER 46: THE FAMILY ULTIMATUM

The snow had once again made its appearance in Lamballe, and a thick layer of dazzling whiteness now covered the entire region as flakes continued to fall in true squalls. The December of the year 1805 seemed to be following the same path as its predecessors, and it did not appear that the weather would change anytime soon. The grain had long been stored warm in the granaries, branches gathered in anticipation of any icy episode, and the animals sheltered in their stables, awaiting better days and the first signs of spring to enjoy tender grass currently flattened by the significant snowfall.

The castle itself had not been spared, and for several weeks now, carriage rides or even sleigh rides had been replaced by warm evenings by a roaring fire and around a well-stocked, steaming plate.

However, three people were busy near the entrance portico leading to the inner courtyard. One was placing strange small round stones on which symbols were engraved in holes embedded in the wall. The second held the ladder on which she stood, while the third, seated on a chair, bounced on her lap a little girl warmly bundled up in multiple blankets and a snugly fitted hat.

"Monseigneur should be here soon," the woman sitting said, teeth chattering.

"Yes, and you should go back inside, Marthe. Joséphine and you might catch a cold," the one on the ladder replied.

"One would think we're hearing Mademoiselle's governess," Marthe chuckled, turning her head towards the other small group in the courtyard – two nicely dressed young girls who were currently gathering as much snow as possible to make a massive snowball.

"Maybe this Sister isn't entirely wrong when it comes to others' health," Antoine replied as he descended from his ladder, with Remus helping and satisfied to have placed the last stone at the top of the arch. "And Mademoiselle should listen to the wise advice of her governess or her mother rather than waiting in the cold for her brother's arrival."

Harry, for it was undoubtedly him, was expected to reappear in Lamballe after several months of wandering across Europe. The war seemed to be over, at least according to the gazettes and official newspapers praising the exploits of the Emperor's Grande Armée, victorious over a European coalition now in ruins. There was talk of a decisive battle explaining the current situation, a battle near a small village named Austerlitz, which, in addition to crushing the Austro-Russian armies, had cost the French army only a few thousand men, including the wounded.

Their young lord had not written anything about it; in fact, he had written almost nothing for months, perhaps due to lack of time, fear of interception, a prohibition, or simply to avoid causing worry.

But this silence was enough, and Marie-Louise, like Lily and all the castle's inhabitants, had worried about the fate of the unexpected heir of the property owner. His death would have led to multiple succession problems, starting with the disappearance of one of the last branches of the Bourbon family, of which Harry was a representative without even sharing the blood. Therefore, the letter addressed to the Princess of Lamballe, bearing the wax seal of her son, was greeted with joy shared by all the castle's residents. Even if the young heir was not very talkative in his letter, the permission offered by his superior to spend the holiday season with his family was a soothing balm, sufficient to approach the festivities with much anticipation.

Antoine, for his part, awaited his young master's detailed report on the military campaign he had just witnessed. Having carried arms in the past during his youth as a page at the Court of Versailles, Antoine was sure that Gabriel now had far more exciting stories to tell, and like a child, he eagerly awaited his return to enjoy them.

The war, however, was the least of the concerns for the two young girls playing a few meters away, especially for the one who, for the moment, was busy rolling her enormous snowball with her best friend, under the furious gaze of her governess occasionally sticking her head out of a ground-floor window.

"Miss Marie-Rose!" she exclaimed, bundled up in her thick travel cape. "Come in immediately! You'll catch a cold, and if you do, don't come complaining about being sick!"

"But Gabriel will be here soon!" her ward replied cheerfully without even glancing at her. "What would he say if his welcome consisted only of his two favorite servants and his godfather?"

"Ah, you distress me, miss!" Antoine pretended to protest. "Aren't we worthy of esteem and interest enough to welcome Monseigneur?"

"That's not what I meant, good Antoine!" she immediately replied, offering him an apologetic look. "I just think my brother would be delighted to have a family member in front of him rather than his servants... Oh, no matter how I phrase it, it constantly sounds like a reproach!"

But Antoine and Marthe preferred to laugh about it, which somewhat reassured their young mistress, while next to her, Astoria openly mocked her legendary verbal clumsiness.

"Come and play with us, Sister Catherine!" Rosie called out, finally turning towards her. "You'll see how time flies when you're having fun!"

"A nun does not have fun!" her governess firmly replied. "A nun delights in the adoration of Christ, in her prayers, and in the daily tasks inherent in her role! There is no time for amusement! As for you, you should be doing your studies or keeping company with your mother's guests, not making snowballs for God knows what reason!"

"Well, you should immediately return to perfect once again the shortcomings in your education! It's as if you do it deliberately!"

But her young charge wasn't listening anymore, now immersed in the search for pieces of wood that could serve as arms for the snowman she wanted to build. Defeated, Sister Catherine sought refuge in the warmth of the room she had just left, thinking that in less than ten minutes, she would reappear at the door frame to once again demand Marie-Rose's obedience. Antoine observed his young mistress busying herself in her search, a smile on his lips at her detached attitude towards the current situation. By what miracle could Rosie take lightly all the troubles that affected her family? He himself didn't know, and by speculation, he imagined that wizards might have a kind of gift or finely developed intuition that constantly gave them unwavering confidence in the future. Perhaps it was a stretch, and perhaps she simply always saw things on the bright side, but he was surprised by such detachment. Even when some had imagined that something might happen to their young master, there was only one person whose idea had never crossed his mind: Marie-Rose, who, besides rebuffing those who already saw her brother dead, affirmed her position with a sharp "Harry promised me he would come back, and he always keeps his word."

She had never seemed alarmed by her brother's lack of news, and apprehension was not evident in any of her letters, or so the Princess of Lamballe claimed. On the contrary, the four months at Beauxbâtons for the daughter of the princess and Lily Evans had been nothing but antics, pranks on teachers, warning letters sent to her mothers, and reproaches written on paper by one of them against their little wild child. Her grades remained satisfactory, but her behavior left something to be desired, and even the presence of Sister Catherine in her dormitory did not deter Rosie from committing at least one reprehensible act per week. A keen psychologist and seeing through the little game of his nephew's sister, Remus had supposed that Rosie, despite claiming not to be at all anxious about her brother's fate, had found a way to drown her true feelings in fun and tasteless jokes. A rather sensible explanation in Antoine's eyes, who, for the moment, almost saw confirmation of this in his young mistress's actions for nearly an hour. Instead of staying warm in one of the lounges, she had chosen to kill time outside, despite her mother's probable disapproval and the risk of getting sick, playing in the snow with Astoria or, as at this very moment, designing little snowmen—most likely to hide her impatience, even the apprehension of the reunions and the condition in which her brother found himself.

"Do you think it will be much longer, Antoine?" Remus asked him, interrupting his train of thought.

"Oh well... I don't know, madam said he would be back precisely at 11 o'clock, and it's only less than five minutes away," he replied flatly, looking at his watch.

"If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I'm probably the most impatient of all to see him again," Remus told him with a sheepish smile. "I've known Gabriel since he was born, and I vowed the first time I held him in my arms that I would protect him at all costs from any dangers that might await him. So I really regret not being able to be there to assist him in the trials he has encountered..."

"I think the feeling is shared by everyone living here," Antoine assured him. "Monseigneur is a good man, much better than the one whose titles he inherited, and the people in the neighborhood appreciate him greatly. I have no doubt that Lamballe will become even greater than it already is once His Serene Highness entrusts him with the reins of the estate and the surrounding lands. I hope to still be here when that happens!"

"There's no reason why it shouldn't happen!" Remus affirmed. "Come, my friend, let's stop the melodrama now; otherwise, we'll end up having to leave the privilege of welcoming my nephew to this good lady while we cry pitifully in one of the castle rooms."

"Oh, but I would gladly accept!" Marthe assured him, while her daughter giggled, clapping her hands. "Both of you would be just as useful in the kitchen helping poor Giuseppe! Poor man doesn't know where to turn since these gentlemen and ladies of the royal family came to pay a little visit to Madame our mistress!"

Marthe couldn't have said it better, but she must be the only one taking this impromptu arrival lightly. Giuseppe was still despairing of having to prepare now thirty covers for every meal with a staff significantly smaller than it should be for such an occasion. Since yesterday, the exiled king and incidentally their young master's uncle had entered Lamballe unannounced, and with internal complicity that for now had not been exposed, he had managed, in the middle of the night and using the same method Harry was supposed to arrive with, to come quietly in a carriage and with a retinue of several dozen servants and courtiers, waking up the entire castle along the way. In nightgown and dressing gown, Marie-Louise had welcomed Louis XVIII with honors, along with almost the entire royal family, despite the fact that they had literally invited themselves and seemed to be set to stay for some time in their company. As for the reason for their visit, it had not been clearly specified, and Marie-Louise, too busy satisfying her sovereign without a kingdom, had not dared to ask directly. But no one was fooled, and the timing was just too perfect to be convincing: Gabriel's return coincided all too well with the king's visit, so everyone opted for a reason related to him.

Since yesterday, the daily life of the castle's inhabitants had been completely disrupted. By adopting the principles and pranks of court etiquette from fifteen years ago, a little air of Versailles now floated in the air: the king and queen were assigned the best suite of the castle, consisting of a bedroom and several lounges, as well as a personal study, his brother the Count of Artois, recently widowed, was given the room that was once assigned to the Prince of Lamballe, while the royal princes and princesses had to share the last unoccupied rooms. The courtiers, on the other hand, had to make do with tiny rooms with makeshift beds and no toilet. Some even had the misfortune of having to sleep in the corridors, in hastily prepared camp beds that, come morning, had to be cleared and set aside for future use.

And all of this was just beginning! Remus had been speechless, especially when mealtime arrived, and another ceremonial took place, a ceremonial from another age in his eyes where the king and queen patiently waited to be served the best dishes, alone at a table in the center of the room under the gaze of courtiers who didn't utter a word, while the rest of the royal family dined in their respective apartments following the same protocol. The servants didn't know where to turn! Marie-Louise accepted this without batting an eye, or so Remus thought, and he was surprised to see her wait for Louis XVIII to finish his meal and leave the room before she, in turn, began to eat. This submission to Etiquette surprised him, coming from her, who usually showed herself so strong and uncompromising with others and became, in the presence of someone she thought superior to her, as timid and subdued as if she were in front of the Virgin Mary herself.

Remus didn't really have an opinion on this strange man proclaiming himself king but who didn't even have a throne to sit on. He seemed grumpy, a bit intimidating with his heavy and round silhouette and the multiple military decorations he wore on his chest. But the king seemed to have an opinion about him, and not knowing him, he ostentatiously avoided his presence, eyed him with an unfriendly look, and only spoke to him once when Marie-Louise introduced him. As for Lily and Rosie, the former had, on the contrary, had the opportunity to talk to him a few times so far, but Louis XVIII probably took her for a lady of good lineage that she was not. As for the second, Marie-Louise's silence about the identity of this young lady's father was enough for the king to believe that she might be the result of a shameful relationship for the princess, and as much as he had appreciated Harry the few times he had met him, he didn't seem particularly interested in his young sister-in-law, and she, although she didn't show it openly, shared a similar opinion towards her uncle by marriage. Faced with this toxic atmosphere, Remus thought that Christmas vacation was going to be terribly long and oppressive, but above all, he was waiting to find out what this exiled king could want from his nephew to come here: The meeting taking place inside the castle and to which he had not been invited certainly concerned this ultimate encounter.

"Let him hurry, I'm dying to know what Daphne wrote to him!" Astoria exclaimed.

"Probably something sentimental like 'I miss you so much' or 'I long for you!'" her best friend mocked in a theatrical gesture, her hand on her forehead and eyes closed. "You know her: she can be so boring when it comes to her fiancé..."

"You forget one detail, my ladies: Private correspondence is, as the name suggests, private!" Remus reminded them, shaking his head at Rosie's antics.

"Gabriel hides nothing from me," she immediately assured him, although her uncle could sense a slight doubt in her voice.

Suddenly, the runes activated, and a kind of fine, almost transparent membrane appeared at the entrance of the gate. The magical portal emitted a slight sound resembling the breath of the wind while waves seemed to form on its surface like halos radiating from the center to the edge, in a continuous and regular manner. Then, nostrils appeared, followed by a horse's head and the rest of its body, while, calmly sitting on its back, a rider in a soldier's uniform emerged from the gate, almost nonchalantly.

"He's here!" Rosie exclaimed immediately, raising her hand.

Without warning, she lifted several snowballs, and with a flick of her wrist, all of them headed towards the newcomer who, surprised, couldn't avoid any and fell from his horse under the force of the attack.

"Oops!" squeaked the culprit while everyone rushed to Harry's aid.

Fortunately, the layer of snow at his feet had greatly cushioned the fall, but slightly disoriented by this sudden attack, he let himself be helped up when Antoine and Remus took hold of his arms and put him back on his feet. The portal disappeared at the same time with a soundless "pop," although no one paid it the slightest attention now.

"What a welcome..." he muttered once his thoughts cleared. "Say what you will, Rosie, you never cease to amaze me more each day!"

"And it might be wise now for the young lady to know how to behave, isn't it, Rosie?"

Knowing herself guilty, she preferred to lower her eyes at her uncle's reproachful tone, silent for the first time in a long time. Harry was not at all angry about his little sister's actions, and extricating himself from his godfather's grip, he headed towards Rosie and, without warning, encircled her in his arms before spinning her in the air.

"Ah, naughty girl!" he chuckled in her ear. "What would I do without my beloved little sister? Come on, smile! You'll give me much more pleasure than displaying that sulky face that doesn't suit you at all!"

"If you stopped swinging me from side to side, maybe I would have a good reason to smile?" she said in a annoyed tone, although a smile was gradually forming on her face.

Her brother immediately obeyed but, without letting her go, he opted for a simple hug to which Rosie responded without hesitation.

"I missed you, Gabriel," she murmured with a small voice. "I've been wondering every day where you could be and what you could be doing..."

"I missed you all too," he admitted. "I would have liked to write to you, but my superiors preferred to wait for more favorable circumstances for news, circumstances that have only recently arisen."

"Well, you should have ignored orders," she reproached him, stepping back slightly to give him a small tap on the chest. "Do you realize? Not a single piece of news in nearly four months! Mother kept writing to Beauxbâtons to see if you had, by chance, sent me a letter! She wrote to me a lot, but it was mostly to reproach me for my conduct at school..."

"Why am I not surprised?" he said wearily, shaking his head. "You'll never change, Rosie."

"That's how you prefer me, Gabriel," she replied mischievously.

Smiling, Harry turned his attention back to the small group he had left behind, and heading back to his godfather, he extended his hand, but he obviously had another idea of how reunions were done because he opted for a brief but heartfelt embrace, in which various emotions could easily transpire: happiness, relief, kindness, but also love, simply.

"Look at you!" he said once he released his godson. "You seem changed! Roaming through Europe seems to have done you a world of good!"

"Maybe, yes," Harry muttered uncertainly. "I didn't really pay attention to my appearance: I was more concerned about this in recent days..."

And as he spoke, he moved slightly away from his godfather to display the multiple cuts on his trousers roughly sewn together. The traces were clearly visible, and it didn't take long for the others to understand where they came from:

"Are you injured?!" Rosie immediately alarmed, inspecting the multiple signs of injury with a concerned look. "And here I am, welcoming you with snowballs!"

"Come on, Rosie, do you think I would show you these cuts so detachedly if they were serious?" he immediately replied to his sister. "A bit of magic, some bandages as a precaution, and especially a needle and thread, and it's as if nothing happened!"

His explanation did not reassure his surroundings, and at the sight of the worried faces of his family members and servants, Harry suddenly found himself embarrassed for having the brilliant idea of showing his cuts as a hunting trophy.

"I'm perfectly fine," he insisted to break the silence that was settling. "Others haven't been as lucky as me during this campaign, so I consider myself really fortunate to be here today to enjoy the presence of those dear to me when others will be reunited with their loved ones in a coffin! Let's rather take refuge inside before we die of cold to savor the delicious dishes of my favorite cook, right, Marthe?" he added with a little knowing smile in her direction.

"Unfortunately for you, Your Grace, it's not me who's on kitchen duty today," she replied as Harry sighed in disappointment. "But I've kept a bit of my broth for tonight's meal; I know you love it."

"Mmm!" he replied, suppressing the urge to lick his lips.

Allowing himself the time to greet everyone with a hug or, in the case of Antoine and Marthe's daughter, a few tickles, Harry then invited them to go inside... only to come face to face with Sister Catherine.

"My Sister," he greeted her respectfully. "I am delighted to see that you will once again be among us for the end-of-year celebrations."

"Your mother kindly invited me to attend the celebrations that will take place in your home while continuing to keep an eye on your sister... I hope this time will be beneficial for both of us."

While saying this, her gaze once again fell on Rosie, and although she held the piercing gaze of her governess, Rosie couldn't help but swallow quickly, thinking about what Sister Catherine's words might imply.

"Please, you would honor me by joining me tonight in my study," Harry continued. "I would need the advice and wise opinion of a nun to ease my conscience of the troubles that have weighed on it for some time."

"What you've been through leaves marks," the nun replied, suspecting exactly what troubled the young man before her. "I'm not normally qualified for such a thing, and the help of a priest would be more beneficial to you, but I will do my best to satisfy you."

"Thank you," he said to her with a sincere smile.

Sister Catherine slightly nodded her head, then took her leave, heading towards one of the corridors adjoining the entrance hall, not without casting a final glance in Rosie's direction, as if to signal that she hadn't forgotten her. Marthe and Antoine, declaring they still had work to do, also withdrew towards the castle's dungeons and kitchens, their little girl chirping in her father's arms. Remus, Astoria, and Rosie, on the other hand, curiously observed Harry, wondering about the troubles that troubled the young man. But as he hadn't yet talked to them about it, they decided unanimously to wait for the right moment to broach the subject. Taking the lead, Rosie then opted to change the subject, and her gaze immediately fell on a small pile a few meters away.

"There's something for you over there," she indicated, pointing to the small mound of paper that would undoubtedly arouse her brother's curiosity.

On a piece of furniture, a silver tray on which a few still sealed letters rested had been prominently placed without anyone touching them until their true recipient returned. Without needing confirmation, Harry knew that these were addressed to him, and he didn't need to ask Remus or Rosie who they were from to recognize his fiancée's graceful handwriting through the address on the paper.

"Daphne has been very... communicative lately," his sister informed him distractedly as Harry picked up the small stack of letters. "I think, like us, she must have been wondering where you could be."

"Maybe she also talks about the Triwizard Tournament," declared Astoria, trying to pique her future brother-in-law's curiosity about the contents of these letters.

Bet won, because at the mention of the tournament, Harry's eyebrows raised so high that it seemed they could reach the roots of his hair.

"Wait... The Triwizard Tournament?" he said in a confused tone. "I thought they stopped it about twenty years ago because of the too high number of deaths? Did Dumbledore reinstate it?"

"Oh yes, and the news surprised everyone!" Rosie assured him. "We were only informed on the evening of the school year at Beauxbâtons. Madame Maxime hides her game well! However, I find it unfair that only seventh years can participate, and that students not at least in their fourth year cannot attend!"

"The best way to know what's going on is still to find out what Daphne thinks in her letters, right?" argued Astoria, under the approving nods of her best friend.

But Harry wasn't fooled, and smiling mischievously at the two little monsters, he took his wand and, with a simple gesture, made the precious documents disappear.

"The content of this mail will be known only to me," he asserted as Rosie and Astoria displayed sulky expressions. "And there's no need to play this little game, Rosie," he added as his sister began to have teary eyes; it might have worked when you were six and still looked like a big baby, but now it's time to grow up!"

"Very well," she said in a annoyed tone, arms crossed.

"Then the old man has reinstated this tournament..." he continued, turning to Remus. "What an idea! I'm surprised that Madame Maxime agreed to participate. Who is the Beauxbâtons champion?"

"Your friend Fleur," his godfather replied as Harry smiled contentedly. "From what I know, she didn't do too bad for the first task."

"Too bad..." mumbled Rosie before receiving a light tap on the head from Harry.

"That's to show you being mean," he scolded her sternly. "Fleur is not a saint, and I know you share Daphne's feelings towards her, but you could avoid such comments in my presence, could you? She remains my friend, and moreover, the champion of your school, so you should encourage her rather than wishing her ill."

Rosie didn't say anything, but her furrowed brow was enough for Harry to know that she disagreed with what he was saying.

"The local press doesn't cover the tournament much," Remus continued. "We only know that the champions had to face a dragon for the first task and had to steal something from it, an egg, it seems. I suppose Fleur must have provided more explanations in the letters she sent to her parents, but they haven't been very talkative on this subject."

"Who are the other champions?" Harry asked, although he didn't have much interest in them.

"Victor Krum is the Durmstrang champion," his godfather explained as Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised to see a school of dark magic compete in such a tournament. "However, there was a slight problem for Hogwarts."

"Let me guess: Dumbledore changed the rules to ensure that Matthew could participate?" Harry chuckled.

Yet, his laughter found no echo in the others, and in just a few seconds, it quieted down in the face of the stern faces of those around him.

"Did he really do that?!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "Good Lord, why am I surprised by the news? I shouldn't be..."

"In fact, we don't really know if that's indeed the case," Remus stated. "There was another Hogwarts contestant announced before him, so now there are two contestants for Hogwarts. Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang cry foul play, and Dumbledore defends himself by claiming that the cup must have been bewitched by a very powerful spell, but as everyone knows he's very close to Matthew, almost no one believes him."

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