Although this summer vacation had only just begun, "frustrating" was already the perfect word for it. Eda had been followed because of Borgin and Burkes and ended up killing people, gawked at like a circus monkey, monitored by people of unknown origin, hit with Dumbledore's sudden concern, and now inexplicably told to learn French.
Let it all burn. Hurry up. I'm tired.
During the day, Fred and George would lock themselves in their room. They had decided to test-sell their products at school once the term started, but with their tiny workshop-style production, large-scale output was impossible from the start.
In the evenings, the twins would walk around the village with Eda, keeping her company and helping her unwind. Company was the most affectionate form of companionship; laughing, playing, complaining, teasing—those moments finally made this summer feel like an actual holiday.
But Eda couldn't stay at the Burrow forever. Even though she planned to quit her job as the Leaky Cauldron's greeter, the timing wasn't right yet. Until she fully uncovered the other party's motives and intentions, it was better for her to keep showing her face.
Fortunately, as the days passed, the curious onlookers gradually dispersed. After all, Eda didn't have three heads and six arms, nor had she shown anything strange—her novelty had worn off.
Old Tom, who had suddenly seemed ten years younger, aged right back, and no longer let out those creepy laughs while counting money. On the surface, everything looked normal again—though hidden under it were undercurrents no one else knew about.
With the departure of the overly enthusiastic spectators, the Leaky Cauldron became much quieter, and even Eda's workload eased up a little. During breaks, she could now conduct her own reverse-surveillance, and occasionally even flip through some French books.
Eda truly lived up to being a genius—she had already mastered several French phrases. For example, the gentler "zut," the slightly cruder "enculer," and others like "merde" and "fils de pute."
Yes — they were all swear words.
But Eda wasn't learning them so she could curse at people. She was learning them so that she wouldn't be scolded by someone and fail to understand what they were saying.
After all, judging from personal experience, Eda hadn't been short on insults these past few years, even if most of them were muttered behind her back.
Not hitting back when hit, not talking back when scolded — that was not Eda's personality. There was nothing that soft in her nature. Grace must be repaid; grudges must be answered. That was Esmeralda Twist.
In the past few days, the atmosphere at the Leaky Cauldron had turned a little strange: the gloomy, pouty, walnut-faced innkeeper; the blonde barmaid clutching a thick dictionary; and the ill-intentioned foreign customers. Everyone had their own little schemes.
No matter what the other party's true motive was, this had become a contest of patience between them. As long as the other side couldn't hold out anymore, Eda could turn defense into offense and begin tracking their movements instead.
To avoid a repeat of last year, when the watchers suddenly withdrew without a sound, Eda felt she should take the initiative and apply some pressure — stir them up, force them to make mistakes.
While working at the Leaky Cauldron, Eda would deliberately approach them, chat with them for a bit, and create the impression that their cover was blown.
She also kept changing her work schedule, making her daily routine unpredictable and increasing the difficulty of monitoring her.
Soon, this pressure began to take effect — or rather, have the opposite effect. The number of watchers in the pub dwindled until only a single group remained.
This group was noticeably older on average, their clothing a little old-fashioned. And during all their interactions, they never cared in the slightest about Eda approaching them, as if they didn't care at all whether she had discovered them.
Moreover, after Eda began approaching them, they seemed to completely let themselves go, no longer bothering to hide their actions at all.
Whenever Eda entered the pub, they would appear shortly after. Whenever she left, they would also leave immediately. And when they chatted among themselves, their speech grew much more varied — besides English, they also used French and other languages.
This move utterly baffled Eda.
She stared at them blankly as they carried on lively conversations. Had they given up? They weren't following any normal pattern!
However, what happened next made Eda directly question reality itself. She felt that either they were out of their minds, or she was — but someone's brain was definitely not working properly.
That day happened to be Eda's day off, so she took the opportunity to go to Little Whinging to pay her respects to Madame Mary. But shortly after she put down the bouquet, she noticed the middle-aged-and-elderly group of watchers appearing in the cemetery.
The leader was a wizard of extremely advanced age, his white beard even longer than Dumbledore's. Casually showing up in front of their target was a taboo known even to Tonks, who hadn't even finished Auror training — yet these people did exactly that.
Even stranger, when Eda drew her wand and pointed it at them, not only did they not stop, they didn't even reach for their own wands. The old man leading them did take something from his pocket, but whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a weapon.
The white-haired elder pulled out a white handkerchief, the corner embroidered with a blooming rose.
Like waving a white flag, he shook the handkerchief gently, then approached Eda with both hands raised.
"At last we meet, Esmeralda Twist," the white-haired old man said. "I am Thierry Rosier, of the ancient Rosier family." His English was excellent, smooth and natural.
"I don't think I should have any connection with your people," Eda said, not relaxing her guard as she quietly put more distance between herself and them. She thought for a moment — there didn't seem to be any students at school with the surname Rosier. She shouldn't have any past grudges with them.
She had offended so many people that sometimes even she couldn't remember who all she'd crossed.
Thierry didn't answer her directly. Instead, he took a bouquet of flowers from someone behind him and placed it before Madame Mary's tombstone. "I don't like Muggles," Thierry said, "but the lady lying here is an exception."
"What do you mean?" Eda's mind began spinning rapidly.
Not only did they show no hostility, they kept releasing goodwill toward her.
A pureblood family treating a deceased Muggle with this kind of respect — had the sun risen from the west today?
"In December of 1977, this kind-hearted lady took in a little girl and raised her until she was twelve," Thierry said slowly. "In the summer of 1989, that girl received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts… though she should have gone to Beauxbatons—"
Eda cut the old man off almost rudely. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
1977, 1989
Those dates alone might not prove anything, but Madame Mary — a Muggle — was enough to make everything clear. And on top of that, the man was plainly here for her.
"It's not nonsense. It's the story of your lineage," Thierry said. "Many in the Rosier family believe you don't deserve the name Rosier — myself included. But that doesn't change the fact that half the blood in your veins belongs to the Rosiers."
A dream come true — what used to be a joke had now become reality.
She really was a daughter of some ancient family who had been lost among common folk.
But one thing hadn't changed: she was still the one people found unpleasant.
A half-blood witch from a pure-blood family… she thought of Tonks, then of Tonks's mother, Andromeda.
Eda frowned. She knew they had no reason to joke about something like this — pure-blood families would never disgrace themselves that way. But she still couldn't accept it. It was all too sudden.
"So you're here to erase me, right? To wipe out your family's shame?" Eda asked. It was phrased as a question, but she said it as if she were certain.
Thierry Rosier looked at Eda with satisfaction. "It seems you understand very well how pure-blood families operate," he said. "But usually, people who know too much… don't meet very good ends."
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