"My dear cousin Céline! And our British guest!" He took a few steps towards us, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Care to join the training?"
"I thought you might enjoy some company," Céline answered for me. "Arcturus was looking for a place to practice. Louis, would you keep him company?"
"With pleasure!" Louis looked genuinely pleased. "Training alone isn't as fun or useful as with a partner. And Frédéric rarely agrees to practice sequences with me. Complains I'm too 'reckless' and pushy," he mimicked his younger cousin.
Céline snorted, either in agreement or displeasure — after all, Frédéric was her brother. Though who knew what their relationship was like.
"Intensity in training is necessary for growth. Without pushing your limits, there is no progress," I responded to his words.
"Exactly. I could use a partner to work on a couple of sequences," Louis said, looking at me with enthusiasm.
There was no challenge in his tone, just interest. It was a pleasant contrast, considering how Frédéric had looked at me all evening while everyone was asking questions.
"I haven't finished with the garden yet, so..." Céline made an elegant, almost playful curtsy. "I shall leave you, gentlemen, to your male company and magical exercises. Bon courage! (Good luck!)" And with a light smile, she retreated the way we had come.
One could say the first reconnaissance was complete. And it seemed we had both discovered in the other what we feared not to see. We had found a potential ally in each other. Perhaps even more.
'On verra, ma chère française (We shall see, my dear Frenchwoman. It's only the beginning),' I thought, stealing a glance at her profile.
After briefly watching her go, I turned to Louis, feeling the thrill of the upcoming training displacing the residual tension from the conversation with the girl.
"So," I said, drawing my wand. "What shall we work on?"
We started with simple sequence drills. Honestly, I expected something more interesting from a sixteen-year-old, but alright.
So, we assigned roles, which we switched. Louis attacked first — three quick spells one after another: Knockback Jinx, Stunning Spell, and another Knockback Jinx. Then I defended with a Shield Charm and had to respond with the same sequence while he defended.
"Your turn now!" Louis shouted, preparing to defend.
I sent my sequence — the same one. Louis blocked the first two with a shield, dropped it, dodged the third, and sent the same sequence back at me, only this time ending not with a Knockback Jinx but with Ventus Duo.
He launched his attack again — spells in the same sequence. I deflected the first two with a shield, and on the third...
"Ventus Duo!"
An enhanced gust of wind slammed into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. While I tried to stay upright with a Shield Charm (which protected from the wind but pushed me back), Louis was already sending a new sequence.
"You see the idea?" Louis smiled, lowering his wand. "Ventus Duo throws your opponent off balance or at least forces them to keep holding the shield while you prepare the next attack. By the way, you held up well, so let's make it harder."
"Clever," I admitted, dusting myself off. "Let me try."
We swapped roles. Now I attacked first, Louis defended. When it was my turn to counter, I repeated his manoeuvre:
"Ventus Duo!"
Fortunately, I had studied this spell long ago, even though it's only officially covered in the third year. I wasn't sure I could manage the modified Duo variant right away, but the incantation, which for most spells I no longer used, helped this time.
The wind burst from the tip of my wand with unexpected force — even though I hadn't specifically practiced this variant, the principle was clear. While Louis defended, I sent a finishing sequence.
Then Louis gradually intensified the sequence, simply applying the modified Duo variant. By the third round, however, I decided to test something more robust than just a basic Protego Duo. I used my modified Protego with the honeycomb structure. It didn't have the same defensive properties as the Duo variant, but the testing went well — each enhanced spell that hit only popped a couple of hexagons, which I quickly restored.
After half an hour of intense training, we stopped, breathing heavily.
"You know, I think I understand why Céline spoke so highly of you. You pick things up quickly and hold your own well. But here we risk damaging the trees if we start going all out..."
"...with serious training."
"Yeah, training. Let's go to the basement; we have a special hall there."
It seemed Louis wanted to make sure I wasn't a complete pushover magically. We headed towards the manor, and I was glad that for this month and a half, I'd have a decent sparring partner; maybe we could learn something from each other. Why 'from each other,' despite him being sixteen and me thirteen? Well, did I put in all that effort for nothing? I think I could hold my own against him, provided he doesn't use anything truly deadly — unlikely he'd want to use something that could easily kill me.
Generally, I had counted on training this summer just as hard as last year and increasing my skill even further, but we'll work with what we have.
Unfortunately, upon entering the manor, we were intercepted, as it turned out not half an hour but more had passed — after all, we had walked with Céline for quite a while. To be honest, I hadn't checked the time with a Tempus charm today, so soon I was sitting down for breakfast.
While I love classic English cuisine, I must be honest — French cuisine appeals to my taste more.
Breakfast was served in a bright, sunlit room. The table was set with elegant simplicity — eggs Benedict, fresh croissants and pastries, jams, cheeses, freshly squeezed orange juice, and much more. This time, we were seated differently, as many were absent. I sat between Bertrand and Céline, opposite Frédéric and Louis, whose gaze remained wary. Not the whole family was present.
Madame Isabelle entered last, as befits the mistress of the house. She took her seat to the right of the head of the family's place, as yesterday.
"Did you like your room, Arcturus? Did you sleep well?" she asked, pouring herself coffee. Her tone was even, but it lacked maternal softness.
"Excellently, Madame. Your family is very hospitable, and I appreciate it."
"That's good!" She turned to Céline. "And you, Céline? Is your new greenhouse finally ready?"
"Yes, Mother. I transplanted the Moon Lilies last night."
"Have you shown our guest the garden?" The woman asked, looking at me.
"Not entirely. But you did like the garden, Arcturus?"
"Unquestionably. A remarkable garden."
Honestly, part of the conversation was just small talk. Idle chatter, devoid of deeper meaning… but if you hold the title of aristocrat, you must play the part.
The conversation continued in the same vein. Isabelle de Millefeuille asked her children about their activities, gave instructions, and occasionally addressed me with polite yet pointed questions that made it clear who was in charge here. Beneath this external ease, an iron hand was felt. She commanded the table like an experienced captain steering a ship.
When breakfast was coming to an end, she set her drink aside.
"Arcturus, I would like to speak with you in my study. When you have a moment."
Only a fool would take that as a request.
I nodded:
"Bien sûr, madame. Je suis à votre disposition. (Of course, Madame. I am at your disposal.)"
***
Isabelle de Millefeuille's study turned out to be just like her — impeccably organized, with no hint of superfluous detail. Perfect order reigned on the massive oak desk: stacks of parchment, several books with gold embossing, and an elegant inkwell. Isabelle herself sat with a perfectly straight back, and even in the morning hours, her ash-blonde hair was styled in an impeccable, severe coiffure that accentuated her sharp yet symmetrical and pleasant features. Her posture, the gaze of her cold grey eyes, spoke not just of authority but of absolute confidence in her right to wield it. This was a truly formidable woman, and I'd had not the slightest doubt since dinner about who held more power in their husband/wife pair.
"Sit." She indicated the chair in front of the desk.
I sat, trying to be as flawlessly composed as she was. The unofficial head of the Millefeuille family studied me for several seconds. Under her gaze, it felt as if she saw not just a youth, but a detailed report.
"Your French is acceptable. But your accent gives you away, Arcturus." She said this without reproach, more as a statement of fact to be noted and corrected.
"I am striving to improve it, Madame. I find a certain melody in how your family speaks and am using it as an example. Fortunately, being among native speakers, I should be able to polish my command of such a beautiful language." This was subtle flattery and an acknowledgment of her cultural superiority, all to avoid being completely outmatched as a conversationalist. Otherwise, I'd become just another listener.
Something resembling a smile flickered on her lips, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
"That is good." She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. Her entire figure radiated focus and control. "Young Malfoy. My daughter, Céline, seems to have taken a liking to your company. Usually, she is more... reserved with strangers."
"Shouldn't that please you, given the subtext of the situation? I apologize for my bluntness."
"I wouldn't say I'm certain of my decision, and everything depends on your mutual rapport. Céline is valuable to me and the family not only as a daughter but as a talent. I would not want my daughter to suffer from being forced into something, for she will do everything to avoid suffering 'unfreedom.'"
"She is exceptionally gifted. Her knowledge in Herbology surpasses anything I've seen at Hogwarts," I replied, then, meeting her piercing gaze, added: "Which, I assume, is a direct reflection of the highest standards. However, I think it's not for me, a child, to explain to you, who is far more knowledgeable in these matters, that the Malfoy family has received many equally advantageous proposals. That's why Father, on this matter, is quite similar to you, Madame Isabelle, and gave me the opportunity to choose."
I saw her fingers tap lightly on the armrest. The hint was rather heavy — I understood that I was an extremely valuable asset and that I had the right to the final decision between the greater and lesser 'evil,' if one could call it that.
It wasn't as if I desperately needed a betrothal specifically to the Millefeuilles, but it infuriated me that she somehow thought my family needed this match more.
"I... understand that," the woman said, for the first time adding a note of business-like pride to her voice, as if she were showcasing a key asset. "Herbology is merely the tip of the iceberg. Céline is also, if not more, talented in alchemy. She has an intuitive understanding of transformations that surpasses that of more experienced wizards. She has a gift which, I must admit, I have encouraged since her childhood."
She paused, letting the weight of this admission sink in.
"I encourage this talent. Twice a week, she receives private lessons from a master of the craft. From Master Renodier. A highly distinguished master in the field of alchemy. Once, he was a student of Nicholas Flamel himself."
My surprise must have shown on my face, for a flicker of satisfaction at the effect produced appeared in her eyes.
"If that interests you, you could attend these lessons. Céline likely wouldn't object, provided you don't distract them."
This was a magnificent offer. Except, free cheese is only in a mousetrap. This wasn't a gift but a test of my mettle. Could I keep up with her genius daughter? Would I disgrace myself and, more importantly, waste her daughter's time?
"I would be deeply honoured, Madame," I replied immediately, carefully choosing my words to convey my full understanding of the responsibility. "I acknowledge that my knowledge of alchemy is... superficial compared to Céline's. But if your offer still stands, I can only say that I am a fast learner and hungry for knowledge. I shall strive to become for Master Renodier not a burden, but a... useful listener."
Madame Isabelle studied me for another moment; her cold gaze seemed a perfected version of her daughter's. I knew she would send me to the Master anyway, but she deliberately prolonged the moment, trying to keep me on edge. Finally, she gave a slow nod.
"Very well. I shall inform Master Renodier. He values inquisitive minds... and ambitious ones." She picked up a piece of parchment from the desk, but before I could rise, she added, her voice regaining its steely notes: "Arcturus, you are a clever boy. An alliance between our families must be built on a solid foundation. Not just on blood or politics, but on a shared vision of the future. On the ability to recognize and nurture new talents."
Her gaze became piercing, finally dropping the mask of casual conversation.
"Show me that you share this vision, Arcturus. And that you are capable of valuing it not only in others but of striving for it yourself."
"I understand perfectly, Madame, if you believe the words of a youth, of course." I inclined my head in a respectful half-bow, feeling the full weight of her words. "And I thank you for this opportunity... and for the clarity in your words and expectations."
Leaving the study, I felt the mixture of excitement and awe being replaced by cold clarity in my mind. To her, I was like an open book. She easily manipulated me despite all my efforts to hold the conversation as an equal.
After the conversation, I finally grasped who Isabelle de Millefeuille was, and now I was curious — how much was Céline like her mother.
Besides, I had apparently gained access to lessons from a former student of the greatest alchemist Europe has ever known… this wasn't just a privilege; it was a pass into the mysteries of an extremely ancient magical science.
And Céline... Now I had to convince her that I wouldn't be dead weight in her world of alchemy, but someone capable of, if not an equal contribution, at least understanding the basic principles of one of the pillars of her life — alchemy.
Madame Isabelle wanted to set the rules: her daughter was the trump card, and to stay at the table, I had to prove I wasn't just a curious dilettante but a valuable player capable of keeping pace with a genius. Except, such a simple trick wouldn't work on me.
First, I didn't believe I was inferior to the girl's genius — well, at least in other areas, I was proficient in my own way. Moreover, in any case, this union was far more important to them than to us. Most likely, she assumed I didn't understand the full depth of the picture. But did she think I was just an ordinary child?! I am the heir to the House of Malfoy and the House of Black!
Yet, why did I have the feeling the conversation was a losing battle from the start? As if I had been played and outmanoeuvred like a child.
On my way to the training hall, it began to dawn on me: maybe I'm not so clever after all; maybe I was simply figured out and played on my emotions to ascertain my true attitude towards the whole situation and to see if I understood anything at all… Damn it! Mordred take her! She outplayed me so easily… So, this is the real Iron Lady, Isabelle de Millefeuille…
So this is what real adult intrigue is like. It seems I still have a very, very long way to go to reach that level…