Chapter 2: Crossroads of Choice

A gentle hush settled over the small cottage in the French countryside as early morning sunlight filtered through lace curtains. Arcturus Black stirred beneath a light quilt, his heart fluttering with excitement at turning eleven. Though he'd long anticipated this day, the sense of eager possibility that filled him upon waking was almost dizzying.

He sat up, glancing at the framed photograph on his nightstand. His parents stood side by side in the picture, waving gently toward him. His father had an arm around his mother's waist, while she held a tiny baby—Arcturus himself—cradled lovingly against her shoulder. The baby reached a small hand toward the camera, as if trying to grab at something just outside the frame. Every so often, Arcturus's mother looked down at her infant son with a soft smile, then gazed back up as if to greet anyone watching.

Though he was too young to remember much from that time, a warm, comforting feeling always spread through his chest whenever he looked at this picture of what might have been. Everyone else called Regulus Black a devoted Death Eater—someone who had angered the Dark Lord. But what if his father was someone else entirely?

With a quiet sigh, Arcturus got to his feet and padded into the hallway. The comforting aroma of fresh bread drew him to the kitchen.

His aunt, Céleste, stood at the kitchen counter, carefully placing fresh strawberry slices on top of a frosted cake—Arcturus's favorite. Meanwhile, his uncle, Étienne, sat by the table, skimming the morning's newspaper. Across from him were Arcturus's two cousins, Aurelie and Élodie, both looking up expectantly as he entered. Aurelie, the elder at fourteen, wore her dark hair in a low ponytail and had a sharp, discerning gaze that lent her an air of maturity. Élodie, barely nine, sported a mischievous grin and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Though they each shared their mother's fair complexion and their father's gentle eyes, their personalities couldn't have been more distinct.

"Happy birthday!" Aurelie called, sliding an empty plate toward Arcturus with practiced efficiency. She always liked to handle the little details, and this morning was no different.

"We waited for you before slicing the cake."

"Only because maman said we must," Élodie chimed in, swinging her legs back and forth beneath the chair. "Otherwise, I'd have eaten at least half by now!"

Céleste shot her youngest daughter a playful glance. "Behave, Élodie, let's have breakfast first," though her smile was playful. "You can't start the day on an empty stomach. "She then turned to Arcturus, pulling him into a light hug. "Happy birthday, Archie."

Étienne glanced up from his newspaper, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Eleven years… feels like yesterday you were barely reaching the table." He set the paper aside and leaned in. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

Before Arcturus could respond, a sharp tapping rattled the windowpane. An owl perched there, amber eyes wide and urgent. Aurelie leapt up to let it in, revealing an official-looking envelope tied to its leg. Barely had she untied it when two more owls swooped into view, each carrying a similar letter. The three birds hooted in agitation at one another, as though competing for the family's attention.

Arcturus's eyebrows shot up. Three envelopes, all sealed with distinctive crests:

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Durmstrang Institute

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Élodie let out a sharp gasp, her words tumbling out in one excited rush. "Three schools? All for you? That's— that's amazing! Do you get to pick whichever one you want?"

"I—I suppose so," Arcturus said, feeling a tangled mix of excitement and unease. He couldn't help noticing the way his aunt and uncle exchanged guarded glances.

Hardly had the excitement from the three owls settled when a fourth bird, this one bearing the Gringotts crest, soared through the open window. It was a regal barn owl with a proud tilt to its head. The letter it carried bore a wax seal stamped with the imposing goblin bank's insignia.

Élodie's eyes widened. "Another letter?" she burst out, her words nearly tangling over each other in excitement. "Are the goblins trying to recruit you too?"

Aurelie rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Élodie—Gringotts is a bank, not a wizarding school."

Élodie huffed, folding her arms. "You never know. With everyone else inviting him to study, why not the goblins?"

Aurelie arched a brow. "Yes, I'm sure they're eager to hand over a Galleon-Counting Diploma."

Arcturus coughed, holding up the scroll's official seal. "Bank letter," he confirmed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Élodie shrugged, undaunted. "Still could be a very important acceptance."

Arcturus carefully removed the seal, his pulse quickening. He read the words twice to be certain: his vault at Gringotts was under new management, and there was a personal message left behind by his father—locked away.

Céleste pressed her lips together, setting aside a small spatula she'd been holding. "Your father must have arranged that before…" She didn't finish the sentence, but Arcturus understood. Élodie's bright expression sobered, and Aurelie leaned forward, eyes darting between Arcturus and the letter.

He felt his stomach flutter. Everyone in the wizarding world claimed his father had died a devoted Death Eater under Voldemort's wrath. Yet Uncle Étienne quietly believed Regulus had betrayed the Dark Lord. Arcturus was never certain what to think. When people mentioned his father, they always lowered their voices, and the details became murky.

Seeing the anxiety cross Arcturus's face, Étienne placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Let's not worry about that just yet. This is your birthday, and you've got exciting choices ahead. We'll help you however we can," he said, his voice steady. "But it's your choice. You've been offered a place at three of the greatest magical schools. Each has its merits…though Beauxbatons is where your aunt and I studied." A nostalgic smile touched his face. "We've always hoped you might choose to stay close to home."

Aurelie beamed at him, her dark hair swaying as she leaned forward. "You know I'm in my third year at Beauxbatons," she said, her voice bright with enthusiasm. "The palace is every bit as gorgeous as Maman and Papa always said it was—marble floors, enchanted gardens, floating chandeliers." Her brown eyes sparkled at the memory. "And I'd love having you there, Archie. We could see each other almost every day."

"I'd pick Hogwarts or Durmstrang," Élodie chimed in with a mischievous grin"

Aurelie's cheerful smile vanished in an instant. She fixed her younger sister with a pointed glare, her eyes flashing a warning. "Oh really?" she drawled, arching a brow at Élodie. "And what do you know about Durmstrang or Hogwarts, hmm?" Her tone was somewhere between teasing and exasperated, but the edge in her voice betrayed the unmistakable annoyance of an older sibling.

Arcturus traced a finger over the Gringotts seal, the knowledge of his father's letter pulsing at the back of his mind like a heartbeat he'd just discovered. Céleste watched him closely, as though gauging every flicker of emotion on his face.

"We don't have to decide now," His uncle said gently, sensing his nephew's apprehension. "Take your time. Think it over."

Slowly, Arcturus set the letters down on the table. He could hardly process the enormity of receiving three wizarding school invitations in a single morning, let alone the revelation that his father had left something for him in a vault. The swirl of possibilities made his stomach twist. He wasn't sure whether to feel elated or terrified.

They quickly segued to birthday festivities, cutting the cake and chatting about Quidditch matches and the peculiar creatures Aurelie had studied at Beauxbatons. But Arcturus couldn't stop glancing at the letters on the table, the implications sinking in like stones in his chest.

Eventually, they migrated to the cozy living room, a place lined with plush chairs and dotted with family photos on every shelf. Arcturus stretched out on the sofa, the four letters still clutched in his hands. He read through them repeatedly, flipping each envelope over and over as if the answers to his uncertain future might suddenly appear between the lines. Across the room, Céleste rested her head on Étienne's shoulder, both wearing fond smiles as they watched Arcturus's thoughtful expression.

Aurelie, sitting in a nearby armchair, took the chance to press her point again. "Beauxbatons is truly incredible," she insisted, her eyes bright with conviction. "We have these breathtaking crystal courtyards where the marble statues actually dance at night, enchanting waltzes under the stars. And out by the lake, the Headmistress's old illusions swirl across the water during special festivals. It's like walking through a living fairytale. You'd love it."

Élodie snorted. "Hogwarts sounds way cooler! And it's in England. That's exotic, right?"

The two sisters began bickering playfully over which school was superior, until Céleste cleared her throat—a gentle but firm signal. "Girls," she said, "let Archie think for himself."

Arcturus found his gaze flicking between them. He felt torn between the comfort of attending Beauxbatons—close to home, close to the only family he'd known—and the nagging desire to learn more about the world his parents had inhabited.

Étienne rose from his chair and gave Arcturus a meaningful look. "Come outside with me for a moment" he murmured, leading him through the back door into the garden. The late morning sun cast warm rays over neat rows of herbs and low stone walls. A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of rosemary and lavender.

They stopped beneath a leafy pear tree, the sun catching motes of dust in the air. Étienne faced him, a soft, knowing expression on his face. "You know your mother attended Hogwarts," he said quietly. Étienne continued, the corners of his mouth curving in fond reminiscence. "My sister was a rebel, you know. She went to Hogwarts purely to spite our parents. Beauxbatons was the family tradition—always had been. But she chose her own path, as she often did."

A pang of longing coursed through Arcturus "I'd like to go," he said, his voice careful, as though testing the words for the first time. "I want to see what Hogwarts is like—walk the halls they knew. If my father was…" He paused, uncertain how to finish. "If he truly was something else, maybe I can find out more there."

Étienne placed a steadying hand on Arcturus's shoulder. "I understand completely," he said softly. "And I'm certain Céleste and the girls will too." He gestured toward the cottage with a nod. "Let's go in and tell them. Then we can make a plan—there's plenty to do before term starts. I'll head out right away and arrange a Portkey for us to London. We can settle matters at Gringotts and pick up your school supplies as soon as possible. In the meantime, you'd best go over the Hogwarts list and see what you need."

A wave of relief and excitement washed over Arcturus. He glanced back at the house, imagining Aurelie's reaction, Élodie's new round of questions, and Céleste's supportive smile. With a final nod, he followed Étienne back inside, ready—at last—to share his decision.

When Étienne and Arcturus stepped back into the sitting room, they found Aurelie, Élodie, and Céleste all hovering conspicuously by the doorway, their feet practically on top of one another. At the sight of the two returning, the trio scattered with forced innocence. Aurelie pretended to fuss with her hair, Élodie suddenly became fascinated by the rug, and Céleste cleared her throat as though she hadn't been listening at all.

Étienne let out a hearty laugh, and Arcturus followed suit—seeing the three of them trying to look nonchalant was too amusing to ignore. "Nice try," Étienne teased. "You'll have to work on your stealth if you're going to be eavesdropping on private conversations."

Céleste shot her husband a mildly reproachful look before turning her attention to Arcturus. "So… have you decided?" she asked softly.

Arcturus drew in a breath, glancing at each of them in turn. Finally, he nodded. "I'm going to Hogwarts."

Aurelie exhaled a little sharply—an involuntary sign of disappointment—while Élodie, ever the contrarian, cheered, "Yes! Hogwarts!" She glanced sideways, catching her sister's faint frown, then smirked. "Not that Beauxbatons isn't lovely, of course."

Céleste paused, exhaling softly as her gaze flicked between Arcturus and the letters clutched in his hand. A faint, melancholy smile tugged at her lips. "If that's truly what you want," she murmured, her voice tight with a gentle sadness, "then we'll support you—all of us, every step of the way."

Étienne beamed and patted Arcturus on the shoulder. "Hogwarts it is, then."

With that settled, the family drifted into the kitchen. The savory aroma of a self-cooking meal enveloped them. Pots and pans glided through the air, stirring themselves with impeccable timing. Steam rose from a simmering pot of soup, and bread cut itself into perfect slices. Plates floated gently to each seat at the table.

Arcturus settled into his chair, noticing Aurelie's thoughtful silence across from him. She flicked a glance his way—brief, but telling. Finally, she cleared her throat. "So," she began, carefully picking at the crust of her bread, "I guess you're really going to Hogwarts."

He nodded, sliding his chair closer to the table so he could reach a bowl of roasted vegetables. "I am."

Aurelie sighed, trying to keep her tone light. "I'm not saying it's a mistake or anything—it's just… you won't know anyone there. And you'll have to deal with British food every day. Meat pies, puddings, who knows what else."

Arcturus chuckled, spooning vegetables onto his plate. "You make it sound like some dire culinary fate. I'm sure they have decent meals. Besides, isn't variety the spice of life?"

She caught his joke with a half-smile, then shrugged. "I suppose. And maybe it'll be good for your English, too." Her expression turned a little more playful. "Assuming you can ditch your terrible French accent in time."

"That's half the reason I'm going," Arcturus shot back, failing to suppress a grin. "If I stay here, I'll always sound like this." He deliberately thickened his French accent, turning the entire table's attention on him.

Céleste's laughter chimed warmly from the head of the table. "There's nothing wrong with a French accent," she teased. "Some might say it's quite charming."

"Exactly," Aurelie countered, leaning forward. "Might do him more harm to lose it. Think of all the swooning hearts at Hogwarts—"

"Oh, please," Élodie interrupted, rolling her eyes. She was perched on her chair, slicing her stew-braised meat into tiny squares. "I'm far more interested in whether they eat fish and chips all day. And do they even have pastries like ours?"

Arcturus shrugged, his smile widening. "I'm sure they have pastries—maybe not as good as what we have here, but I'll survive." He glanced at Aurelie again, gently. "I will miss you, though. All of you."

Her features softened, and she reached for her glass of water. "You'd better write, or I'll be the first to owl you in the middle of class and embarrass you in front of everyone."

Arcturus raised his eyebrows in mock horror. "Noted," he replied, before sending her a grateful grin.

Across the table, Étienne cleared his throat. With a flourish, he produced a battered pocket watch. "Speaking of Hogwarts…" he said. "I've just secured us a Portkey for tomorrow morning. We'll head straight to Diagon Alley, sort out your supplies, and stop by Gringotts."

Élodie leaned so far forward to see the watch that she nearly knocked over her drink. "What does it feel like?" she asked breathlessly. "Is it really like being pulled by a hook behind your belly button? And does it spit us out right in the middle of the street?"

Céleste chuckled, gently righting Élodie's cup before it could spill. "Easy, ma chérie. You'll find out soon enough."

"That's if you don't faint first," Aurelie added with a mischievous wink.

"Hey!" Élodie protested, cheeks flushed. "I'm not going to faint."

While the girls squabbled in jest, Arcturus stared at the ancient pocket watch, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in his eyes. Tomorrow, they'd walk into a world he'd always heard about but never truly experienced—one threaded through with memories of his parents and the promise of a life he could only guess at.

Sensing his sudden quiet, Céleste reached out and covered his hand with hers. "We're with you," she said softly, just loud enough for him to hear above the cheerful chatter. "Every step of the way."

He exhaled, shoulders relaxing a bit. "I know," he murmured. "Thank you."

At that, dinner resumed in a swirl of floating dishes and overlapping conversation. Despite the underlying tensions—Aurelie's faint disappointment, Élodie's excited questions, and the looming trip to Gringotts—an unmistakable warmth filled the little kitchen.