CHAPTER 5 - Destinations, In E Major (Act 1)
24 July 1994 - The Contemplation Room - Malfoy Manor, 5:52AM
Internally singing Dobby's praises Lily slowly sipped her steaming espresso, savoring the subtle taste of dark chocolate. Tom mirrored her thoughts, enjoying the bergamot-forward profile of his earl grey.
A large tiered-tray laden with buttery croissants, crème fraîche meringues, gougères, mini galettes, and palet bretons sat on the coffee table between Lucius and his guests, with Lord Malfoy expertly repressing his smirk at Lord Gaunt polishing off his third meringue and eagerly eyeing a strawberry galette. Though he thought it frequently, Malfoy wisely didn't bring up the older wizard's sweet tooth being on par with Headmaster Dumbledore's.
As always Lucius enjoyed being in the Contemplation Room, both for its relaxing setting and impenetrable security.
Created by his ancestress Julia Lady Malfoy in the late 1300s, the spacious chamber was fashioned in a Flamboyant Gothic style; shades of broody pale gray, high-reaching flambe-style vaulted ceilings, and gilded rose windows, lending an air of calming solemnity one would expect in a cathedral. Muted sunlight streamed through the ensorcelled glass of the large windows, casting a comfortably warm glow to the space.
One sole portrait frame was mounted above the fireplace mantle. It was currently occupied by the quietly observant form of Hephaestus Malfoy III as he were in 1941, magically imbued with all of the memories he possessed until his dying day on 11 March 1961.
Aside from his mother Myrine, Hephaestus was Lucius' closest confidante and advisor, a substitute for the paternal affection and support he'd never received from the wretched Abraxas. It was his grandfather who imparted words of wisdom to his descendant during his Claimancy for the Hydra Throne, instilling him with the confidence needed to reach his Ascendancy. It helped that Hephaestus was a Consiliarius Emeritus for Caractacus Flint's Prince Administration, providing his grandson with a sound advantage to win the Throne.
Lucius was well aware that the man bore much guilt for Abraxas' horrific treatment of his youngest son and wife, knowing that it was his fault for indulging his only son's many whims and affording him every privilege within his power. The erstwhile Lord Malfoy used Dobby to run as much interference as he could between Abraxas, Myrine, and Lucius, though it hadn't been enough to prevent Abraxas from ultimately murdering Myrine. Lucius' father had ordered Dobby to remain at Le Nid Malfoy that day, and despite Dobby's enduring loyalty to Hephaestus, he'd been unable to disobey the order from his living master.
The guilt still ate at Hephaestus despite being no more than painted canvas imbued with a Homunculus Charm.
It was one of the driving forces that pushed the Consiliarius (with Dobby's help) to remove Claudius from the line of succession so that Lucius could inherit the mantle and save his family from its impending ruin. The erstwhile Heir Malfoy was ever his father's son, and Hephaestus was clever enough to ascertain that should he be left the mantle, House Malfoy would fall.
That fateful day of 9 September 1979 was meant to mark a new dawn for the Malfoys, out from under the Dark Lord's influence.
What Hephaestus hadn't known was that Abraxas bequeathed his Heir to the Dark Lord's service, the promise sealed with the magic of an Unbreakable Vow. The moment Claudius drew his last breath was the very moment Lucius' freedom was no more, forced to not only become Heir Apparent Malfoy but a Marked member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.
Naturally, Abraxas lived long enough to see the dirty deed go through, destroying Lucius' engagement with his darling Cici and tying him to the sociopathic Narcissa.
The sting of that miscalculation would haunt Hephaestus' portrait for eternity.
"So," Lucius said after a few pleasantly silent moments. "Have we reached a solution regarding this…problem?"
Tom and Lily exchanged a quiet glance as they psychically communicated with each other on whether to share the bad news or the truly terrible news with their fellow ally.
"Before we broach that topic," Lord Gaunt said diplomatically. "I'd like to ask you a few follow-up questions, if you would be amenable?"
A beat passed before the blonde nodded tensely.
"Excellent. Has your Mark been active since our last conversation?"
Almost as though it'd heard and understood the question, Lucius felt the wolf tattoo squirm and throb beneath his robes. It'd been active since fateful Sunday two weeks prior. Retiring earlier than usual to his suite, Lucius had awoken from his slumber with a gut-wrenching scream as the blood-red wolf tattoo writhed painfully beneath his chest, his heart thudding painfully fast as his lungs constricted.
A horrified Dobby apparated in, unable to do anything to alleviate his master's pain save casting a full Body-Bind to prevent the man from flailing about and injuring himself as he continued his agonizing screams. The experience lasted less than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity as the Prince Emeritus fought to not crawl out of his own skin just to escape his pain.
Once Lucius' fit ended, Dobby forced a bevy of healing potions down his gullet, not ceasing the barrage until a much-improved Lucius had to command him to stop.
It was followed by a flurry of mental correspondence between himself, Riddle, Severus, and Evans, all alerted to his distress at the red-hot SOS beacon emitted by the python symbol on their cuffs. With considerable effort Lucius managed to convince them that he was fine for the night and that they could reconvene in the morning to "discuss the evening's event". Dobby had stayed in his suite to keep vigil, oddly comforting Lucius at the action.
After a most harrowing and revealing conversation the following morning wherein Lucius divulged all he could about the Mark and exactly what he'd done had to earn the Merlin-forsaken brand, his two Parselmouth allies agreed to help him. All three were well aware that the seeming reactivation of the Dark Mark was a very tangible indicator that the Dark Lord may have become re-embodied - a most frightful prospect for them all.
"First question," Tom took a sip of his tea. "Have you had any additional episodes?"
The blonde shook his head in the negative. "Nothing like… that night." Tom and Lily blinked simultaneously before the former nodded.
"Secondly - have you made any efforts since the incurring of the Mark to have it removed?"
Lucius shifted. "Yes. After news of the Dark Lord's… vanquishment by the Boy-Who-Lived," he paused to briefly glance at a stone-faced Lily. "After said vanquishment and my release from Auror custody, I spent almost a year corresponding with all manner of discrete sources to see if there was anything to be done to rid me of this blasted brand." His jaw tightened. "Unfortunately, there was no remedy to be found."
Lily and Tom exchanged that look again, causing Lucius' nerve to ratchet up.
"Have you been summoned since the event? Any strange dreams or other inexplicable magipsychic events?"
Lord Malfoy blinked, before responding in the negative to both Lord Gaunt's questions.
The two Parselmouths gave each other that look again, and just as Malfoy made to rudely interject, Riddle fished through his left inner robe pocket and retrieved a potion phial.
"My word!" exclaimed a wide-eyed Hephaestus, surprising the room's occupants. "That's Primum Ens Melissæ!" He gaped at the verdant concoction that whirled of its own volition within the Unbreakable phial.
"Precisely," Tom softly replied as the erstwhile Lord Malfoy continued his gawking. "This particular concoction was created by my ancestress Cessair Gaunt, kept under a Permastasis Charm within her laboratory in my family's manor. Cessair was a Mistress Alchemist and Herbologist whose area of expertise lay in Spagyric, a lesser-known branch of alchemy that focuses on the production of 'immortal' herbal medicines using alchemic procedures as opposed to the more common goal of Chrysopoeia. Anywho, Cessair successfully refined the process for creating this particular elixir that maximizes its vitality-imbuing potency."
He paused to stare intently at Lucius' chest, causing the Dark Mark to fidget as though it could tell it was being observed. "Given the nature of this particular malady, you will have to ingest this concoction twice within a year's span as opposed to just once; half this phial during Samhain and again during next year's Solstice."
Lucius stared nervously at the concoction. "Do we know what effect this will have on my body?"
"Well," Tom replied. "The whole point is to rejuvenate, to some degree, the well-being and vitality of one's body by attracting and concentrating the source of spirit and soul found within the herbs within this tonic and transferring those properties to your body."
"...Spirit and soul?"
"Yes, spirit and soul." Seneschal Wilkes' tone was sharp as her Avada-green orbs pierced through Lord Malfoy's own gray gaze. "As I am sure you can recall, you confessed to us that you acquired that tattoo by murdering an innocent muggle before consuming his flesh in a Lykaia-rite in order for the Dark Lord to deem you worthy of wearing his personal brand. That incurs soul degradation, corrupta magicæ, regardless of you using a Personality backup to go through the motions."
Lord Malfoy snarled angrily. "You say as if I wanted-"
"You had an impossible choice," Lily replied, her tone surprisingly delicate as she laid a gentle hand on Lucius' arm. "You chose the only option that would guarantee your survival, and for that I will never judge you." The blonde found himself oddly comforted as he nodded gratefully. Hephaestus' jaw tightened within his frame, feeling his guilt and rage at Abraxas' enduring stupidity rise to unbearable levels.
"However," she continued. "Your choice did result in serious ramifications, and while the effects may not be readily obvious in your strength and abilities, corrupta magicæ does have a lasting effect. Now that your Mark is active, it's entirely possible the Dark Lord could use it to drain your life force or torture you into insanity or some other equally terrible fate."
'Well, she certainly doesn't mince her words.' thought an amused Hephaestus.
A few moments passed before Lord Malfoy sighed. "Fine, I'll take it." He reached for the potion, freezing as Lord Gaunt raised a palm.
"There is one caveat."
Lucius stiffened. "Oh?"
"Yes. Prior to ingestion, Lily and I will have to run a Legilimens probe to-"
"Absolutely not!" hissed the blonde angrily. He wanted no one within the sanctuary of his mind, not even his allies.
"I understand your reservations," replied Tom in as dulcet a tone as he was capable. "But this isn't a standard probe that will dig through the well of your most private memories or psychically compel you to do something you do not want to do. It is a… diagnostic spell that is meant to assess the depth of magipsyshic entanglement between that mark and your person. You can, if you'd like, confer with a qualified Legilimens at your discretion to conduct backup probes to confirm the legitimacy of my statement. The choice, as always, is yours."
Lord Malfoy sat for almost a whole minute with a tight jaw and stony face, before tensely agreeing. He loosened his cravat whilst shedding his outer robe
"Very well. Your cuff hand please." Lucius slowly extended his right wrist, watching as Riddle hissed something. The python symbol shivered before exhaling, closing its eyes as though sleeping.
"Dormant mode, so as to not interfere with the probe. The nature of its protective magicks would initiate counteroffensive measures for your psychic protection." Lucius nodded though his grandfather internally gaped, realizing the depth of runic and alchemical engineering it took to accomplish such a feat. He gazed at Lord Gaunt with newfound admiration, already impressed by the machinations he witnessed the muggleborn wizard undertake to reclaim his birthright and stake a uniquely undeniable claim within British wizarding society.
'No wonder Abraxas hated him so much.' The portrait shook off thoughts of his complete disgrace of a scion.
In a blink Tom cast a modified Petrificus at Lucius. "So you don't shimmy about unnecessarily." All Lord Malfoy could do was blink rapidly. "Ready?" He turned to Lily.
"As I'll ever be," she deadpanned. "Initiate."
Their hands linked as Tom hissed, causing the basilisk and the krait symbols on their cuffs to unfurl slithering into an ouroboros symbol that began to thrum.
As one, they touched they pressed the palms of their linked hands to Lucius' chest, watching the blood-red wolf begin to squirm as though distressed. They registered the blonde grit his teeth, but otherwise he didn't move. They pressed their hand into the tattoo, causing the thrumming of the ouroboros to ratchet in frequency.
Taking a deep breath, Tom began hissing the lead for the two-part hymn spell as Lily provided the assist:
"ResSsut kheper-djesSsSs-ef
(desSsher zenef-zab),
Inen-iret SsSsShuyet,
(SsSekheper zenef-zab!)"
Lucius began shaking in earnest, feeling his heart race as though it intended to beat right out of his body. The pain was searing, as though the tattoo intended to rebrand itself into his flesh. He did not register the faintest whine whirling in the air, along with the subtlest sensation of something forbidden beginning to gather. An enraptured Hephaestus could only continue his gawking.
"ReSsSut te sSsah!
(SsSah-atay te sSsekhem!)
DesSsher zenef-zab,
(Khedeb sSsut-ib!)"
The blonde was now screaming at the top of his lungs, though the sound couldn't escape his body as the Dark Mark began seizing, causing him to thrash at the pain. The whine increased in volume as the ouroboros of Tom and Lily's cuff burned red-hot. At this point, Hephaestus leaned back completely in his chair, as though trying to shrink into the apparatus.
(Within his frame at the end of the Reflection Passage within The Crypt of Malfoy Manor, Nicholas Malfoy jerked wide awake at the herald of something blasphemous arising.)
"SsSAH-ATAY SsS-"
POP!
SNAP!-SNAP!
WHOOSH!
Practically in-sync the two Parselmouths deftly somersaulted in the air before landing on their feet, Protegos at the ready.
Both blinked rapidly at the sight of a furious Dobby, seaglass-green orbs glaring angrily at the pair. The valet elf exuded danger, body poised to strike as he stood protectively in front of a sweating and wheezing Lucius.
"Step away from my master."
It was a clear warning, and though Lily's form instinctively tightened for an offensive reprisal she was startled at potentially facing off against a very pissed off house elf.
"D-D-Dobby!" rasped Lucius as he clawed at his chest. "S-S-Stand down! It's fine…I'm fine. Please, stand down."
The order worked as Dobby visibly relaxed, going to the blonde's side. Exchanging a tense glance, Tom and Lily allowed their shields to lapse as they relaxed.
"Are you alright sir?" The elf snapped and nullified the Petrificus before fussing over his master, retrieving healing potions from his toga-style emerald green robes and practically forcing them down the blonde's gullet.
Feeling much more even-keeled, Lucius asked:
"How did you know to come here Dobby?"
"I sensed your distress and a considerable strain on your life force. I responded as was appropriate." That wasn't the complete truth; the elf had been touching up the North Wing of the library, his Lar cognito-senses registering the sudden whine of X'aligha accompanied by the telltale signs of his master's anguish. Following the sliver of a breach in the realm-space and master's magical signature landed him in the Contemplation Room and thus triggered the need for his reprisal.
But of course, the Rules of the Great Game had to be upheld and Lar Dobby held his tongue.
"Thank you again, Dobby." He bowed as was appropriate as Lucius turned to his fellow Slytherins. "Are we quite finished?"
Tom winced. "Unfortunately not. Dobby interrupted the first half of the incantation. I'm afraid we'll have to start over."
A loud undignified groan was Lord Malfoy's only reasonable response.
Heathrow, 7:31AM
His awe was tangible, so much so that he barely registered Draco's amused snickering beside him as he gaped at the sight before him.
"Close your mouth Harry, you'll get flies. Well, whichever ones haven't flown into Theo's mouth."
The Slytherins paused in their gaping to playfully shove at a laughing Heir Malfoy. Just behind them were Anthony Goldstein, Lord Peverell, and Lord Prince, laughing good-naturedly at the exchange. While Anthony was equally amazed at the lavish private jet, he did a considerably better job at hiding his reaction as to not 'lose face'. He'd been good friends with Justin since the end of their Second Year, and while he knew the Finch-Fletchleys were rather well off, he'd never expected this.
As for Snape, he would be their chaperone for the first half of the trip as Lily, Tom, and Lucius were handling some 'very important business' that concerned Lord Malfoy. Severus had been read into the situation, and at the current time, the matter was something that required the expertise of two Parselmouths.
Lord Black was also conspicuously absent as he handled some 'House-related affairs' for two days, enough time to complete his business and be present for the European Dueling Tournament in Paris and their mini-vacation in Marseilles.
"Seriously though," murmured Harry, lightly gaping as he draped a friendly arm around the shoulders of a still-gawking Theo and a snickering Draco. Emerald green eyes took in the sleek curves of the plane and its many glistening details, registering the hum of its powerful engine. "This is a glorious creation, I've never seen one in person."
Justin looked surprised given Harry having a muggleborn mother. "A Gulfstream? Or a plane?"
"Both," he replied honestly. "I've seen pictures of aeroplanes in books as a child, but I've never seen one up close and personal. Mum's never flown in one either, thinks it's mad to enclose oneself in a potential killbox suspended thousands of feet in the air with no easy escape."
Snape snorted out a laugh, causing Harry to do the same. Severus' involvement with House Prince's muggle holdings necessitated the occasional use of muggle travel means, one of which included planes. Despite his cajoling, he could never convince Lily to fly in one with him.
Anthony chuckled. "Sounds like my mum, she hates flying. Though it's more due to her dealing with bouts of vertigo." The others winced sympathetically.
"You boys ready?! Severus?!" called out Malcolm Finch-Fletchley, peeking out from the plane's door. He waved them over, and as one, the fivesome quickly climbed up the steps, warmly greeting the man who returned the gesture in kind. He complimented Harry on his ascendancy to Lord Wilkes in his dulcet posh tones, which the boy took in polite stride.
Emerging from the cabin was Barbara Finch-Fletchley who greeted the group just as politely as her husband, complimenting them on their "sharp and fetching" linen suits and Heir Malfoy's longer locks, a layered, shoulder-dusting style inspired by his ancestor Armand Malfoy.
The willowy blonde surprised Theo and Harry by warmly embracing Draco, who returned the gesture before gallantly brushing his lips over her slim fingers.
"Oh Dray, ever the charmer," she cooed, eliciting amused glances from his Slytherin friends at his nickname.
"Takes one to know one Babs," replied the blonde with a rakish smile.
Mrs. Finch-Fletchley laughed in girlish delight before instructing the group to make themselves comfortable, making her way over to the mini-bar to prepare her customary morning beverage.
Smiling fondly at his wife, Malcolm proceeded to make small talk with his son's other friends, delighted to be in the company of other esteemed members of wizarding society. Secretly amused, Lord Wilkes knew the Finch-Fletchleys were of the properly posh sort, given both Malcolm and Barbara respective ancestries and orders of chivalry. That, and their many charitable works and casual name-dropping of other equally privileged peers. It was only fitting that muggle aristocrats would be chuffed to enjoy the trappings of wizarding aristocracy through their son's newfound status and that of his friends.
Pleasantries complete, he gestured for them to choose their seats whilst he had a quick chat with the pilot and co-pilot. Anthony didn't do that great of a job at repressing his awe at the sleek luxury before him, causing Justin to clap a friendly hand over his shoulder. Harry and Theo immediately chose the first set of conference seats facing each other, excited to view the sky from this perspective. Draco and Justin settled on the berthing divan across the Sytherin pair, plopping Anthony next to them to engage in friendly banter.
The adults settled themselves into the seating near the mini-bar as Babs immediately took on bartender duty, with Malcolm and Severus getting in a spirited discussion regarding the most recent Wimbledon tournament.
After some minutes of spirited of conversation, Anthony finally asked the question that'd been plaguing him since his arrival:
"So… is Neville not coming with us?"
Unsurprisingly, the three Slytherins winced with varying degrees of discomfort. Harry and Theo's reactions were more visceral than Draco's given that just two days prior, they'd been treated to the sight and sound of a furious Hermione Granger ranting to them via Floo call over Neville's "unbelievable audacity to pretend as though everything is okay after all that he did!"
Neither were willing to interrupt their Gryffindor friend as she angrily pontificated - without pausing for breath - all of Heir Longbottom's sins at the advent of the Ultimate Sanction. While Hermione could logically understand that Neville's actions were out of his control, the combined ability of Harry and Draco to comfortably Occlude the Sanction's effects as to not harm Theo were not lost on the Gryffindor, especially given that Neville - as an Heir of Ancient and Noble House - should have been able to do the same. That he conspired with the twattiest of purebloods to expel an innocent boy was nigh unforgivable, further rattling Hermione at seeing her would-be best friend behave in a manner she'd only ascribed to the Cassius Warringtons, Pansy Parkinsons, Zacharias Smiths, Marietta Edgecombes, and (formerly) Draco Malfoys of the wizarding world.
Who's to say there wouldn't be additional legislation passed that would mind-control Neville into hating her and other muggleborns so unabashedly?
Despite Harry and Theo being ready to forgive Neville and welcome their friend back into the fray, neither risked divulging that tidbit to Hermione as they did not desire to be hexed six-ways-to-Sunday, Floo call or not.
A somewhat amused Lily caught the tail-end of the conversation, feeling a touch of sympathy for the Longbottom Heir should he cross paths with his housemate in her current state.
Through a lot of calm cajoling Harry succeeded in soothing Hermione's immediate ire, letting her know that the four would have a chance to reconvene during the Quidditch World Cup and have a much-needed face-to-face conversation.
Theo resolved himself to mastering his Protego arsenal.
Just in case.
"Not this time," Lord Wilkes stated, his gentle tone holding a note of finality that prompted Anthony to not continue his line of inquiry.
At exactly 8:00AM was takeoff, with Harry and Theo practically pressing their faces into their windows as they took in the incredible rush of clouds and sound as the plane ascended.
Once they leveled, Harry gazed down, amazed at the breadth of the landscape below speckled with tiny dots of homes and cars.
"How high up are we?" asked a near breathless Theo.
"A little over 30,000 feet I'd wager, traveling at around 400-500 knots." All eyes turned to Anthony, causing the Ravenclaw to shrug nonchalantly as he helped himself to the snack bowl of muggle chocolate sweets. Harry continued to stare out the window as his mind whirred.
"You reckon my Firebolt could get that high if I-"
"Absolutely not."
They all turned to stare at Snape as he subtly glared at Harry, causing the boy to lightly blush.
"The altitude limit of the Firebolt is currently capped at 15,000 feet by Viktor Krum during a practice run with the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team, and that was only for five-sustained seconds before having to decelerate due to being overcome by a sudden bout of altitude sickness and weakening of the Stability Charms imbued in the broom. We are currently at twice that level, and I doubt a strong Bubblehead Charm would be enough to prevent you getting ill." The man's dark eyes narrowed, causing his students to gulp nervously. "I would also tell your mother, and I cannot imagine she'd be pleased with your…experimentation."
Wincing at the image of a furious Lily, a properly chastened Harry immediately dropped his line of inquiry, peripherally registering Severus and his friends' snickers at his reaction.
La Demeure Malfoy - Gros Caillou - 7th Arrondissement - Paris, 9:59AM
Huffing with feigned exhaustion Heir Malfoy tossed himself into the sprawling divan in the middle of the living room, sighing in delight as the Cushioning Charms enveloped his body.
"Give it a rest Drake," said Harry amusedly as he and Theo settled on opposite arms of the divan. "You act like you flew the bloody plane yourself!"
Justin snickered as the smiling blonde stretched dramatically. "Travel by plane always takes it out of me, quite exhausting." The others laughed at his antics, knowing Draco was being facetious.
As with the day's theme Anthony fought to repress his awe at luxury before him, taking in the tasteful yet lavish details of the Renaissance-era interior paired with modern French furnishings. La Demeure was one of four French residences for the Malfoy family, a three-floor flat complex nestled in the heart of Paris that offered stunning views of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine. The second and third levels were living quarters, each bearing three private suites with adjoining bathrooms. The first floor - currently occupied by the five boys - served as the general living area paired with a state-of-the-art kitchen, private library, and two warded conference rooms for when Lord Malfoy needed to conduct discreet business with muggle and magical colleagues.
"I say! Is that amber on the walls?!" Anthony's hazel eyes widened as they focused on the gilded paneling, drawing the others' attention. Squinting to activate the zoom feature of his glasses, Harry soon realized that the precious gemstone made up quite a significant bit of the fanciful gilded motifs.
"Indeed it is, courtesy of my thrice-great grandmother Scheherazade Malfoy - formerly of House Shafiq."
"Shafiq?" replied Harry curiously. " Of the Noble House Shafiq?"
Draco smiled. "The very ones! Scheherazade brought some of those panels with her as part of her dowry when she married Hephaestus Malfoy II. The Shafiqs enjoyed a close relationship with Friedrich I and maintained residence in Königsberg, part of their desire to become established within the Holy Roman Empire outside of their sphere of influence in Wizarding England and France. It's said that it is in the Shafiqs' Prussian estate where Friedrich first saw the decorative amber panels, and he was so awed by the sight Othman Shafiq gifted him a sample panel for his keeping. Wanting to further endear himself to Friedrich, Lord Shafiq commissioned more panels to be gifted to the king. The works were completed a few years after the passage of the Statute, but the Shafiqs were clever enough to maintain their relationship with the king and his court despite the Statute."
He paused to stretch out a few kinks, wiggling his toes for good measure and drawing varying expressions of amusement.
"Anywho," the blonde continued. "Friedrich gifted the completed Room to his ally Tsar Peter the Great of the Russian Empire, who installed it in the Catherine Palace and made however many modifications and renovations to keep it looking spic-and-span. According to Father, both Grindelwald's Acolytes and the muggle Nazis heard of the Room's existence and intended to loot it. Thankfully, Gaspard Shafiq - a Senior Auror for the French and a rumored member of Légion d'honneur of L'Inconnu - was a spy embedded into Grindelwald's Alliance and learned of the intended perfidy. He discreetly alerted his cousin Ehsan Lord Shafiq, whom, along with two of his trusted house elves, succeeded in breaching the Palace to dismantle and abscond with the true Amber Room, leaving a convincing decoy in its place."
"So the Room is in Shafiq Manor?" Harry asked curiously.
"Presumably," Draco shrugged. "No one's been able to step foot in the manor in almost four decades to confirm one way or another. House Shafiq has been dormant since Ehsan's reign on account of only bearing daughters. The House is patrilineal and an Heir must be able to demonstrate descendancy from three unbroken magical male generations bearing relation to the Shafiqs to stake a legal claim. Despite his daughter Hyra bearing a son named Amir, he couldn't claim the seat as it would be through his mother. He married Regina Shacklebolt and took her last name, bearing Kingsley. It's possible that Director Shacklebolt's grandson could revive the House if he bears a son who bears said grandson, but I reckon only time will tell."
At this point Severus ventured downstairs from his suite to reconvene with the boys.
"What does our itinerary look like?" asked Justin.
"The Welcome Reception for the Dueling Tournament will be held at 6:00 this evening in the Grand Hôtel du Louvre, we have Portkeys available to transport us. On Monday and Tuesday we will be watching the tournaments held within the hotel before we all depart for Marseilles, reconvening with the Zabinis at their estate before heading over to Château Black. Lily and Sirius will be joining us on Wednesday and taking over chaperone duties for the remainder of the week with the Zabinis whilst I attend to my Potion Apprentices and other such tasks that require my attention." He paused to look at Harry. "My mother and I will be in attendance for your birthday celebration."
Harry smiled, excited for the impending festivities. Sirius planned to go all out as he typically did for his godson's birthday, and Ophelia was quite excited to prepare the Château's expansive grounds for an outdoor celebration.
Plus, he'd finally get to meet Sirius' Great-Uncle Alphard, one of three Black elders Sirius genuinely liked and didn't loathe on principle.
"Are your parents coming with us this evening?" Theo turned towards Justin.
"Nope," replied the Hufflepuff, emphasizing the 'p' of the word. "It's their 'Wedding Anniversary Eve' as Mother calls it, so they'll be taking on the sights and sounds of Paris as they see fit. I expect them to be turning in rather late."
"So what are we doing between now and this evening?" asked Anthony as he bit into a Chocolate Frog.
Severus smiled. "We'll be touring Paris, of course! Go freshen up and we'll reconvene here. Do be quick; Le Marais awaits!"
Without any hesitation, Draco led the excited boys upstairs to their suite to begin the necessary preparations.
At the Same Time…
Smiling brightly, Fosette Petit waved at the muggle tenants as they made their way to their flat, receiving warm smiles in return.
Though it wasn't common, luxury apartment complexes in Gros-Caillou and other such fancy neighborhoods had concierges to provide 'relevant administrative and operational support' to occupants. As this particular complex possessed muggle and magical guests, Fosette's role helped both sets of guests feel as comfortable and accommodated as needed, made easier by her status as a muggle-raised Halfblood.
It was an even more perfect cover for her to conduct surveillance as L'Abeille, specifically regarding particular Personnes d'intérêt under L'Inconnu's purview.
One such individual was Lucius Malfoy, given the man's reveal as a Death Eater during the previous Blood War. Granted, he'd been able to escape real punishment on account of claiming a most-convincing Imperius alibi before the Wizengamot, backed by Berith Selwyn's testimony and a panel of oath-sworn mind-magic experts.
However, as far as Le Garde-Chiourme was concerned, a Death Eater leopard didn't just lose his spots, especially one descended from La Famille Malfoy. Fosette found it especially amusing given that the two men were technically distant cousins, but she possessed enough self-preservation to not mention that little fact in front of her superior.
Based on what she'd gleaned from reading the group's lips upon their arrival, they were in town for the European Junior Dueling Tournament and would be staying at least through mid-week. She'd been surprised by the sight of Harry Potter, knowing that his identical twin Jim Potter was definitely a Person-of-Interest on account of him being the Prophecy-marked Vanquisher of the most recent Dark Lord.
However, given his recent inheritance of the notorious Toymaker's lordship, L'Abeille would make sure to keep an extra eye on him.
The Chevalier's attention was immediately diverted to the new arrivals.
'Well, well, well… this is shaping up to be an interesting morning.'
It was Aleksandra Tkachenko (née Krum), sauntering hand-in-hand with an adorable doe-eyed mini-me and the rest of her brood. The intel file on Clan Tkachenko was quite thick given Volodymyr's recent activities, and while Le Garde-Chiourme had expected the presence of Borys and his elder half-brother Irakliy for the Junior Dueling Tournament, Madame Tkachenko had not been on the list.
She was captivating; a lithe modelesque physique accentuated by the finest acromantula summer silk robes with glimmering malachite and ruby jewels, her long wavy locks fashioned into an intricate chignon with a few wisps left to sensuously graze her swan-like neck.
There was a crackle of something around her as she slunk forward like a serpent, a strangely metallic yet sweet-smelling aura that reminded Fosette of ozone after a nighttime lightning storm.
Venturing towards the elevators Aleksandra barely nodded in the concierge's direction, expression haughty in the face of the witch's chipper greeting. Curiously enough, her daughter Yelyzavetya shyly waved in Fosette direction, before lightly recoiling at the sharply disapproving look on her mother's face. Her twin sons Gavrylo and Ruslan ignored her whilst excitably chatting amongst themselves about the bets they'd made with each other regarding the would-be Dueling Champion. Borys sneered at her as he strode past, though Irakliy, interestingly enough, leveled a flirtatious wink in her direction.
Feigning a blush, Fosette turned her gaze to the papers to appear busy. Subtly tapping into her minor-Pamela aspect, her already large brown orbs stretched into their compound form and thus bestowed her with considerably expanded peripheral vision. She read their lips, learning of afternoon plans. Fosette continued her assessment as they boarded the elevator, making note of their floor.
Once lunchtime arrived, the witch placed a large placard to alert guests that she was on break. Venturing into the backroom, Fosette's form blurred into a honeybee that flew out of the small lunette opening. Pamela buzzed her way to the uppermost floor of the nine-story edifice, settling into a flowerbox right outside L'Appartement Tkachenko.
As with all properly paranoid magic folk their rooms were warded with several Security Charms, chief among them Sound-Distortion Jinxes. What they didn't account for was the unprotected glass in the double-pane windows, which was susceptible to all types of runic magicks.
Mainly of the Anti Sound-Distortion and Sound Amplification variety.
L'Abeille could recall the entire exhausting night she and Le Moustique spent under the cover of Notice-Me-Nots on their brooms, manually marking the small runes into each window of each room of their targets.
All save Lord Malfoy's, whose paranoia had him carve his own set of runes into the frames and glass of his windows, incorporating them into the overall alarm wards of his property.
Nestling into the yellow daisies, L'Abeille got well and comfortable to gather all relevant intel.
2:35PM
Unable to repress her smile, Hestia Jones watched as a giddy Garance Rosier led her to the Uppermost Level of La Bibliothèque Magique, practically skipping up the curved steps as she excitedly whispered about the newest additions to their Herbology Section.
It never ceased to amaze the solicitor that the ever-chipper librarian could be descended from La Famille Rosier given their status as staunch pureblood supremacists.
Thankfully, Garance and her family were not in alliance with their House's agenda. Her father Pacome was a halfblood who'd married muggleborn Inés Rosier (née de Lapin), going against the Rosier grain and generally considered - along with his daughter - to be the white sheep of the family. So much so that both made a considerable effort to avoid the other.
Garance's pride in being muggleborn was readily reflected in her choice of muggle-style dress; a colorful mélange of brightly patterned stockings, a fluffy canary yellow blouson dress, a checkered neon pink cardigan and matching scarf, all topped off with bright orange velvet loafers with a complimentary blue silk headband.
"Here we are!" With a cheery smile and a deft flick of her wand - 12 inch beech with caladrius feather - Garance opened the door to a private reading room, gesturing for Hestia to enter.
The room was surprisingly spacious though not lacking in coziness, illuminated by a large bay window showing off the Seine.
Once Hestia settled, Garance gave her a quick rundown:
"These were the only five texts I was able to find referencing all the potions created or mentioned by Salomo Belasco based on the excerpt you found some months ago." She tapped the books with a gentle hand. "You are forewarned; two of these are in Ancient Greek and impervious to Translation Charms so, that might take some work." She winced sympathetically. "One is in Althochdeutsch but can be translated into Modern German per my assessment. It's over 5000 pages, so you do have your work cut out for you. The other is Old Norman which isn't too much of a bother though it's almost 6000 pages, and the last one is written completely in a mix of Elder and Younger Futhark."
Garance registered the solicitor's wince, instinct causing her to rub the older witch's arm affectionately. "T'inquiète madame. You are brilliant, have to be in order to be a solicitor! If anyone can sort this out, it'll be you!"
Smiling at her infectious kindness Hestia kindly thanked her, chuckling as Garance beamed brightly before flouncing off to attend to her other tasks. With a sigh, the Ravenclaw retrieved her glasses and her snacks, settling in for a long afternoon.
Seated on the opposite side of the floor but with a perfectly unobscured view of Hestia's room, La Sentinelle quietly sipped her café as she watched over Solicitor Jones perform her reading. Though she had other missions to complete, she owed La Trésorière a favor for her help in a small property dispute and this was her means of repaying it.
Granted, she didn't understand why Le Milieu's treasurer couldn't just ask Hestia Jones out given their preexisting friendship, but she was long since used to Solicitor Montmorency's many idiosyncrasies.
Sighing, La Sentinelle sunk deeper into her chair, pleased for the Cushioning Charms. It was going to be a very long afternoon.
6:23PM
Choosing to arrive semi-fashionably late, the group of Lord Wilkes and co. finally reached The Welcome Reception, taking in the dazzling sights and sounds.
Held in La Salle de Danse within the heart of Le Grand Hôtel Magique du Louvre, the massive ballroom looked to be thrice the size of the Great Hall, filled with crystalline cut-glass chandeliers, glossy gilded floors, and walls covered in decorative mixture of Neo-Baroque and goût arabesque motifs complemented by several Degas paintings, the dancers moving merrily between frames with aid of Animation Charms.
A raised dais stood at the northernmost wall, featuring the Wizarding Symphony Orchestra playing their way through Waltz of the Flowers. The westernmost wall was covered with a massive buffet table filled with a cornucopia of hors d'oeuvres, fresh fruits, and pastries, along with a charmed beverage fountain fashioned into a winged maiden. Multiple tables and chairs for seated dining were placed alongside the buffet tables for guests to eat, rest, and mingle, along with a bar manned by a sharply- outfitted house elf deftly making cocktails. Levitating trays of champagne floated all around the room, though charmed to prevent anyone underage from taking a glass.
Wizarding black-tie was the theme and all the assembled guests were dressed to impress - some more than others.
Lady Yaxley readily stood out, adorned in an elaborate blood-red robe à la française complete with sumptuous embroidery depicting animated golden roses, flutterby bushes, belladonnas, and intricate vines of Devil's Snare. Her long glossy dark locks flowed down her back and topped with her custom diadem - this one a fanciful creation of rubies, garnets, and amethysts. Matching earrings, a necklace, bracelets, and several rings adorned her fingers, sparkling under the room's many lights.
Twirling the fashionista was Albert Yaxley, expression one of fond indulgence at his mother's delight. A few feet away dancing with a petite yet sturdy-framed blonde was Heir Yaxley, the former wearing a small polite smile whilst Giles talked her ear off about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
Shifting his gaze Harry scanned the remainder of the room, mentally reviewing the dossier on the competitors Blaise had sent as a peacemaking token.
'Speak of the devil…'
The impeccably dressed duo of Heir Zabini and his mother approached their group, the latter more visibly pleased than the former. Though his face was schooled in a civil mask, Harry noted rapid blinking and slight tenseness in his form, indicative of his nerves.
"Harry, Theo, Draco, Justin, Anthony, Professor. Good to see you all, very glad you could make it." They returned his greeting, with Snape registering the unexpected tension between his Slytherin students.
With a charming smile Harry bowed before Serena "Comtesse Zabini, vous êtes resplendissante."
The witch smiled, surprised and pleased at the boy's unexpected politeness given the current situation. Blaise was of a similar mind, grateful that his friend wasn't taking out his anger on his mother.
"C'est très gentil, Seigneur Wilkes." She slipped into a low and elegant curtsy though her penetrative gaze never left the boy's, extending her hand to watch Harry dust a gallant kiss on her knuckles.
The others repeated Lord Wilkes' greeting, earning the Comtesse's warm approval. They made benign small talk for a few moments before Snape guided Serena onto the dance floor, sensing that the boys needed a few moments to catch up. Anthony and Justin also took their cues, venturing over to the buffet table.
"Well," muttered Blaise, shifting on his feet. "How are you all enjoying Paris?"
"C'est superbe!" retorted Draco, tone much sharper than they were all used to. Blaise slightly winced, eliciting a touch of pity in Theo.
"So, who among this lot do you think is going to take the gold for this Tournament?"
Nodding gratefully in the ex-Nott's direction, Blaise settled into his comfort zone as he gave them a rundown of the hopeful competitors. Before he could speak, he registered Harry subtly unholster his wand to cast a Muffliato around their persons. Nodding, Prince Potter gestured for Zabini to speak.
"Erm…right. So, the current titleholder of 'Aurum Champion' is Nolan Parkinson." Draco was mildly surprised, only peripherally aware of his vassal-heir's dueling prowess via his father.
All turned to the boy-in-question, who sat in the dining area eagerly chatting with a beautiful young witch draped in an elaborately embroidered Sarafan-style gown emphasized by a corset adorned with glowing emeralds. Her waist-length raven hair was topped with a snow-white embroidered kokoshnik, twinkling with what looked to be diamonds. She received many appreciative looks from her fellow agemates, including Nolan's own unwavering gaze.
"He's truly brilliant," Blaise continued. "Nonverbal casting with an emphasis on offensive and defensive enchantment. Uses a mix of non-conventional spells; last year in the semifinals he summoned three Boggart-cupboards from out of thin air and caused his opponent to blackout in pure fear." The Slytherins gawked, looking at Heir Parkinson in a new light.
"Wolfram Champion is held by Olga Zedescu." He gestured to the blonde still dancing with Giles, all noting her bored yet passably polite expression. "She's a dueling prodigy and top-ranked duelist in the Open Class of the European Student League. She's secured second-place in almost every competition she's participated in, though I can imagine that's pushing her to really shoot for first."
"What's Giles rank?" interjected Harry curiously.
"12th Place, though you'd swear he'd won it all given his antics." Blaise snorted disdainfully, surprised to hear Draco repeat the sentiment as Harry and Theo snickered.
"Anywho," he continued. "The title of Cuprum Champion is held by Borys Tkachenko, a fact he's not too pleased about and will complain to anyone who is willing to listen. He's not afraid to fight dirty either. Almost got himself disqualified last year for using the Entrail-Expelling Curse on his opponent." Four sets of eyes turned to the boy-in-question, though their attention was soon diverted by his dancing partner.
"Who is she?" gaped Theo, as wide as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
The blonde witch held tightly in Borys' arms was breathtakingly beautiful, resplendent despite the rather plain robe à la Polonaise she wore. In fact, it was as though she'd taken considerable effort to make herself look as simple and unassuming as possible, though her flawless skin, cobalt blue orbs, cherubic lips, and striking bone structure made that near impossible. Her silvery blond hair was fastened in a simple chignon, highlighting her swan-like neck.
"That's Fleur Delacour," Blaise replied evenly, expression unreadable. "She attends Beauxbatons, and is the daughter of one of Mamma's friends." His expression wrinkled. "She's a strange one, rather annoying actually. She can't carry a conversation to save her life and she's always giggling about some inane nonsense about hair, fashion, makeup, and other such things in Witch Weekly. Has quite the klutzy moments too. Honestly, I am not sure why she's bothering to enter the Tournament. She barely made it to the semifinals last time, and her performance was so…sloppy."
Blaise shrugged before looking away, though Harry allowed his gaze to linger for a few moments on the blonde as he continued his assessment.
He found it readily odd that she would, presumably, be so obsessed with superficial adornments yet made no effort to demonstrate that obsession at an event where it would be expected. Additionally, nothing about her movements suggested any sort of clumsiness as she moved with a balletic grace through the steps of the Viennese waltz.
'Most strange…', thought Harry, as his mind continued to whir.
Blinking to awareness a few seconds later, Lord Wilkes suggested that they grab some hors d'oeuvres and beverages so they could continue their people-watching endeavor.
7:16PM
A soft clearing of a throat diverted the Hogwarts Five's attention to a newcomer to their table.
"Eudora Fenwick, pleasure to make your acquaintances," the witch stated, effortlessly slipping into a curtsy. They all noted the warbling rasp of her voice, like a songbird parched for water. She was outfitted in a Victorian-style ball gown in whimsical shades of lavender and marigold, with actual bouquets of marigold pinned in her hair.
The boys greeted the witch as was appropriate, though Harry internally mused on why the daughter of Isolde Fenwick - the same Isolde whose treachery contributed to the murder of the Dearborns - decided to hone in on their group. His question was immediately answered by the witch turning her full attention to Justin with an extended hand:
"Dance with me, Lord Peverell."
Eyes widening at Eudora's boldness, Justin leveled a desperate look towards his friends but found no respite save their surprised and amused stares. His head whipped back to Eudora, whose smile grew as she wiggled her fingers teasingly. Draco discretely coughed into his handkerchief, his best attempt at subtly stifling his laughter.
"Oh! Um… yeah! Sure! Certainly!" With a blush Justin clasped Eudora's hand and led them away, though not before shooting a poisonous glare at his so-called friends.
Once they were gone Theo abandoned all pretense and burst into laughter, triggering the others to start laughing as well.
"Did you see the look on his face?!" Anthony tried and failed to subdue his giggles, struggling to not choke on his bite of moules farcies.
"Blimey, I wish I had a camera!" exclaimed Draco, snorting around his bottle of butterbeer.
The warm moment lingered for a few minutes before Blaise quietly excused himself to return to his mother's side as she chatted up a handsome older wizard. Heir Malfoy began to make a sarcastic quip in the wake of his departure before he was interrupted:
"Harry! Thought that was you!"
Lord Wilkes turned at the sound of his name, a bright smile breaking out across his face.
"Ahsan! Good to see you mate!"
The two wizards exchanged a friendly hug, warmly clapping each other on the shoulder. They'd first met during Tom's wedding to Libra at the Tazirbu-based Kolumbiko Estate the summer before Harry's Second Year. Ahsan's tendency to the cerebral reminded Harry of Snape oddly enough, though with much more boyish charm than his pseudo-uncle possessed. Eurus adored her older brother, though she oft expressed her frustration at his dating life and inability to commit to one girl in a given season. He'd received many a Howler as a result, having to add a Howler-Redirecting ward to the owlery within the Kolumbiko's Hampstead estate.
Harry quickly introduced Ahsan to the others, offering him Blaise's vacated seat.
"So, enjoying Paris so far?"
They all answered in the positive, sharing their fun-filled afternoon touring both magical and muggle Le Marais, ending their afternoon in the historical Montmartre.
"Next time, you must visit La Bazar Caché in Goutte d'Or - all manner of fascinating baubles." He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily, causing their table to erupt in laughter.
They chatted more about other Paris-related topics before the conversation shifted to the upcoming Tournament.
"Are any of you planning to participate?"
Heads shook in the negative at Ahsan's question. "Prefer to just observe as a first-timer," Harry said as he helped himself to a few canapés as the others agreed. Theo had briefly flirted with the idea of participating, but decided against making himself a potential spectacle as he was still a 'No-Name'. Lord Wilkes' desire was of a more strategic nature; he'd absorb as much as possible, then review his memories within a pensieve to use as practice references when training with his mother or other remembers of his Administration.
Plus, it wouldn't be particularly Slytherin to reveal the depth of his abilities to an entire audience of unknowns, glory or otherwise.
The group continued to banter about all manner of topics, before Ahsan slightly stiffened.
"Self-possessed twat, our 10 o'clock." Harry looked in the direction and repressed his groan as Giles Yaxley strutted in their direction.
8:24PM
Pleased to be relieved of Monsieur Desjardins ceaseless nattering regarding the "appalling lack of pâté en croûte in a French hotel!", Severus marched straight to the bar and ordered a double vodka soda to ease his strained nerves.
"I'll take one as well," stated a huskily warm voice to Severus' right. He turned on instinct, before realizing he was staring at the newcomer's chest. Raising his gaze, he was met with the smiling visage of a striking brunette witch who looked quite pleased to see him. She was over a head taller than him, outfitted in an elaborately embroidered gold and red nosiya bearing the various shevitsi of Clan Krum. Her prevez was just as elaborate, golden and silver threads spun into the sigil of the Krum family, as well as a subtle nod to her Nemanjić ancestry.
"Bojana Krum," she stated confidently, extending her hand. "A pleasure to meet you Potion Master Snape."
Brow quirking at one of his lesser used titles, Severus firmly shook the witch's hand. He knew of her from Tom's intel from the last year of the previous war; a Bogatyr alumnus highly skilled in the magimartial arts, with her capabilities ranging from close range combat with swords and daggers to non-verbal casting and offensive enchantment. Her prowess saw her quickly rise through the ranks of the Srebristite Streli to become the youngest Glavnokomandvasht on record, as well as a senior-ranking Auror of the Bulgarian Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auxiliary Auror Guard for the ICW.
She was also the Wolfram Champion for the Open Class of the European and World National Leagues, further demonstrative of her abilities.
Of course, none of this escaped Severus' mouth as he engaged Bojana in conversation.
"I am a huge fan of your work, especially your contributions to periodicals. I just read your article in Mixture Monthly regarding practical jewelweed substitutions that can be used for Pepperup Potion depending on one's biogeographic location, especially if one finds themselves out of actual jewelweed to be able to brew the potion in a bind. So brilliant!" She gestured excitedly, cheeks pinking. "I appreciate the intellectual but my interest lies along the practical given my career and all. It helps to train the aurors and my agents and - oh! My apologies, I'm rambling!"
Snape was genuinely amused, gently waving her off. "It is not a bother in the slightest. It is quite refreshing to find someone who takes an interest in the intricacies of the brewing arts, practical or otherwise."
Bojana smiled, causing Severus to do the same.
"Shall we take a seat to further discuss?" he asked gently, gesturing to a small table tucked into a rather cozy corner.
The witch beamed in delight.
8:41PM
Grateful for her trifurcated thoughtstreams, Fleur Delacour succeeded in paying attention to Borys Tkachenko's self-obsessed rambling, wondering just how one person could be so infatuated with his so-called superiority!
She'd managed to lead him off the dance floor, growing irritated with him being so handsy. Granted, her efforts had not been for naught. Through uninterrupted Veela-gaze she'd been able to glean the extent of his Occlumency, pleased to discover he had shields. Good ones, but not impenetrable, enough that once overcome, he'd be more than happy to spill what he knew about his parents' many illicit operations within France.
Given his intense infatuation with La Fou's bubbly playfulness and flirtatious banter, the witch was confident this mission would go without a hitch.
Well, without as much of a hitch considering the scathing glares she'd received from Borys' aunts Slavna and Vasilka, the direct opposite to the latter's eldest practically leering at her.
It was a central aspect of her Conscription that Fleur greatly resented; having to pretend to be a dimwitted ditz who was more concerned with shallow and superficial trappings who was barely passing her classes. Most at Beauxbatons despised her, the girls loathing the attention she received from the boys and the boys - those unlucky enough to try to court her - loathing her rejection. Some had even spread vicious rumors about her being a 'half-veela', i.e. a witch who'd consumed an actual veela's reproductive organs to become an enticing and lascivious beauty.
The irony of their rumors rather amused Fleur.
Borys shifted to blathering about the Tournament, and La Fou was once more grateful for her Occlumency as her expression became girlishly excited, clapping her hands delightedly. She allowed the smallest trickle of her allure to leak forward, like a teasing feather tickling her target's proverbial chin.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Later that Night…
Chewing over La Fou's update on her mission, Le Garde-Chiourme registered the soft tinkling of his office's doorbell and the arrival of L'Abeille.
She entered upon his verbal command, bowing as was appropriate. Then, she divulged all she'd seen and heard through surveilling Aleksandra Tkachenko's living room window. The Chevalier was quite pale at the end of her speech, though that was much less worrying than the slightly widened eyes of her superior.
Gabriel Delacour was usually a mask of impenetrable calm, a consequence of being a Level 7 Occlumens and decades of lived experience as a magical guardian of the French realm. Visible irritation was part and parcel of his persona given his status and role within L'Inconnu, and as such his sharp-tongued annoyance was typically expected, if not welcome.
Genuine shock was something entirely, even the infinitesimal amount Gabriel allowed to show on his face.
This was very bad.
"Very well. Continue with your mission as instructed, and include nighttime surveillance as well. If need be, I will redirect Le Guêpe to provide the relevant assistance. You are dismissed."
The minute his door closed Gabriel closed his eyes and took a deep and centering breath, mentally repeating the Ram Mantra to soothe his inner thoughts. He did this for almost a minute, slowly but surely registering his whitened knuckles relax and regain their color as his body lost its rigidity.
Resuming his usual placid expression, Gabriel ran his hand over a Magic 8 ball on his desk, registering the grinding of gears. He watched as the desk split center, each half pulling apart to reveal a dark staircase that ventured deep into the bowels of L'Inconnu's offices, twisting a winding through several paths before reaching his destination.
It was a plain wooden door that sat suspended in the middle of empty space in an ominously dark cavern. Unholstering his wand, Gabriel traced the necessary entry runes, registering the door click open.
With practiced breath he stepped through the door, internally praying to every deity he knew that La Directrice was in a charitable mood.
As always, that was completely unlikely.
AN 1: According to affective musical theory, E Major is boisterous yet quarrelsome, shouts of joy yet ready to fight. Fitting for the mood between the Hogwarts Five in this chapter.
AN 2: The role of Bojana Krum is played by Jaimie Alexander in her role as Sif (Thor), Eudora is played by Millie Bobby Brown (Enola Holmes), Fleur Delacour played by Sasha Luss (Anna), and Fosette is played by Audrey Tautou (Amélie). As for Ahsan, he's played by Amir Wilson in his role as Will Parry (His Dark Materials) and Nolan is played by David Mazouz as a teenaged Bruce Wayne (Gotham).
AN 3: The Welcome Reception is a bit of a 'sneak-peek' into what can be expected for the Yule Ball later on.
AN 4: Lykaia is an Ancient Greek ritual/festival on the slopes of Mount Lykaion that involved ritualistic cannibalism and lycanthropy. Essentially, the adolescent-aged participants that ate the human flesh would transform into wolf, and could only regain human form if they did not eat human flesh until the next nine-year wait cycle ended. This will definitely come up again, so stay tuned!
AN 5: The role of Hephaestus Malfoy III is played by Donald Sutherland as President Snow (Hunger Games)(RIP!). His ultimate scheme to ensure Lucius would inherit the Malfoy heirship will be expanded upon later.