I don't know if it was my doing, but the entire family had come out into the courtyard to see me off. From Grandfather Alain, leaning on his carved cane, to Bertrand's youngest children — Émilie and Antoine — who watched me with wide, serious eyes. Even old Marie-Laure had stepped onto the threshold of the house — whether to say goodbye or to demonstrate the impeccable manners of the "French" she was so proud of, that despite her poor health, she had made the effort to rise. In any case, she didn't have much strength left. That's why, of course, she didn't step a single inch beyond the threshold and did not soften her perpetually disapproving expression.
But everyone else had come out into the courtyard. You couldn't get here from outside via a portal or teleportation — such was the protection. The same was true at my home, though leaving was easy. That is, from the house, outward. The same applied to house-elves, only in our manor, the protection worked on a "friend or foe" principle: our own house-elves could come and go freely, but others could not. And that had backfired on my family in my Afterknowledge.
Of course, you could teleport a little farther from the ward boundary, and then you could consider the goal achieved, but you certainly couldn't get directly into the protected estate. In general, such protection was widespread everywhere, especially in schools.
And so, surrounded by almost the entire Millefeuille family under the soft morning sun of Provence, I felt an unexpected surge of something warm and a little sad. A month and a half. It seemed to have flown by like a single day, yet felt like a whole separate life, squeezed between the pages of my ordinary existence.
My gaze slid over the faces. Grandfather Alain, whose experience had turned out to be more valuable than many books on politics. Madame Isabelle… the iron lady, whose approval I seemed to have earned after all. And whose daughter… My eyes met Céline's for a moment.
She stood a little apart, with a slightly sad smile. Frédéric and Louis, my drinking companions from yesterday, were trying to lend their pale faces a semblance of dignity and still seemed unable to believe that I was standing here, fresh as a daisy. These two, over a month and a half, had turned into… comrades. Louis — truly, and Frédéric — was still penciled in, but still.
In this estate, smelling of a hundred different scents of trees, flowers, and other plants, I felt… good. Cozier than within the cold walls of Malfoy Manor. I'd liked it… yes. But at home, I would feel freer — wouldn't have to restrain my magic, wouldn't be under the constant appraisal of foreign eyes. And without those conversations that tested you… well, almost without them.
Despite the pleasant weather after yesterday's rain, today a strong wind blew alongside the sun's rays, making conversation difficult.
Madame Isabelle held up the Portkey, interrupting my thoughts. In her hand lay a small, elegant object, resembling a silver coin with intricate carvings. Apparently, mine.
"It seems the time has come, Arcturus," she said, and a rare, barely perceptible note of regret sounded in her voice. "The Millefeuille estate will always be happy to see you within its walls."
Most likely, an owl had delivered the Portkey in advance. Of course, it would have been safer to commission the Portkey right here, as such items should be received directly into one's hands, but Father, it seemed, hadn't wanted to burden them and had sent the key well ahead by owl. A loss of security for a gain in prestige. I dislike it when security is compromised…
"Thank you for your hospitality, Madame," I inclined my head, investing the words with all sincerity. "These weeks have been an invaluable experience for me. And… simply a very pleasant time, which I shall remember."
"I should hope so, young Malfoy."
And so I began saying farewell to the large family. The first, after Madame Isabelle, I approached was Grandfather Alain. An unusually warm light shone in his eyes, reminding me that the old intriguer saw in me not merely an asset… I hoped. Or perhaps he had outmaneuvered me.
"Well then, my young friend," his voice was low and hoarse, and the wind made our conversation slightly more private. "The chessboard will be emptier without you. Few are willing to play for hours with old Alain and listen to an old man's grumbling. You made an old schemer remember the taste of true contest. And showed that old dogs can still learn new tricks."
"It is I who should thank you, Monsieur," I replied with complete sincerity. "Your lessons were far more valuable. Grandfather Alain, I shall miss our games."
He chuckled hoarsely, and his dry, sinewy hand gave mine a firm squeeze.
"Oh, don't flatter me. You merely made me realize I haven't yet completely turned into a museum exhibit." He leaned a little closer, and I could hear him better. "I hope I get the chance… to meet you across the board again. Simply to play. I would surely lose then… you play better even now, but I would very much like to have that chance. I fear only that I might not have enough time."
I squeezed his hand a little tighter in understanding.
Next in line was Bertrand. His handshake was firm and honest, like the man himself.
"You were the first to open the door of your home to me, accompanying me to the estate."
"Think nothing of it, Arcturus," he smiled. "I was glad to bring such a fine young man to our home. A smooth journey to you. I hope it doesn't unsettle you too much. And don't hesitate to visit us again."
I bent down to his younger children, Émilie and Antoine, who were watching me with serious eyes.
"Be good children and listen to your father," I said.
"We promise!" they chorused, and Émilie even performed a little curtsy. Adorable.
Then came Frédéric and Louis. Despite his sorry state, Frédéric straightened up, attempting to maintain dignity. We exchanged a firm, brief handshake.
"You're holding up well," I said quietly to him, and he offered a bitter smile.
"Thanks," he whispered in reply, leaning in so I could hear him better. Now only I could make out his words. "Because of you… I finally understand what I truly enjoy. I enjoy studying magical creatures. I want to study Magizoology more deeply. And… I enjoy being with my family. Thank you for extending a helping hand when it was needed, friend."
I patted him on the shoulder, conveying my happiness for him. Sometimes I even forget that my sincere concern for certain people is merely a mask. And this mask is so comfortable, it feels as if it has fused to my skin after long wear. But at least, no one detects the artifice.
"Remember, you didn't just complete my little task, Frédéric. You completed a task for your own life. And that is what matters! Just don't neglect your duties and your family. And yes, should you ever find yourself in Britain, I will arrange a Hippogriff ride for you."
He smiled, and in his eyes, once so full of uncertainty, I now saw conviction. That was right.
It was Louis's turn. He was sixteen and stood half a head taller than me, but that didn't matter. We were of different ages, but some of my interests overlapped with his. That's why we got along so well. We shook hands.
"Do you remember our conversation yesterday?" Louis asked quietly, and his gaze was firm and clear despite the hangover. "I won't go back on my words… Partner? I hope it wasn't a drunken delusion?"
"No, it wasn't. Louis, my friend, I never say what I don't mean," I replied just as quietly. "And I never promise what I cannot deliver. We'll write about this later to discuss the details. Because I need it as much as you do."
"Agreed. You can count on me," he nodded, and we finally released our handshake. We were both full of anticipation for big things.
And now came perhaps the most emotional moment. I didn't want to hurt the sweet girl, despite all my cold-bloodedness. Céline stood a little apart, and her slightly sad smile couldn't be hidden from my eyes. I took a step towards her, and she stepped forward in response. We moved a couple of steps away, under the shade of an old plane tree, where only the wind could hear us. It seemed like there were so many people around, but in feeling, it was just us and the rustle of leaves.
"So, the time has come, right?" she said, trying to smile.
"Yes. The time has come."
"The summer flew by so fast…" the girl said sadly and tucked a strand of her lovely, fair hair behind her ear.
I looked into her eyes — deep, bright blue eyes, the color of a summer sky. So intelligent and beautiful. And why is everyone around me blue-eyed? Although her eyes were special. Almost as beautiful as mine, just different.
"You know," I began, breaking the drawn-out pause, "all this time, I don't think I've said this enough… You have incredibly beautiful eyes. There's so much life and fire in them…"
A light blush appeared on her cheeks, and the sadness momentarily retreated, replaced by a sincere, embarrassed smile.
"Are you trying to make our goodbye even harder, Malfoy?" she tried to turn it into a joke, but her voice trembled, betraying her true feelings.
"No. I always tell the truth, don't I?"
She looked at me, and a whole storm raged in her gaze — annoyance, sadness, and that very "mutual affection" that now seemed so real and fragile. I felt sorry for her. I'm sorry, Céline.
"Will we see each other again?" she whispered, and in that simple question seemed to lie all her fear and all her hope.
I held her gaze, not wanting to give empty promises. Would we meet? Certainly. But under what circumstances? And she was asking about a specific turn of events.
"We'll see each other," I said quietly, and my voice trembled slightly. "We'll see each other… when the rain falls."
She might not have fully understood the symbolism of my words, but she nodded. A secret known to no one, referencing yesterday's walk in the rain and a work from that distant life. I gently took her hand and, bowing, brushed my lips against it. Had this been a formal gesture of an aristocrat — I would have kissed the air without touching her skin. But this fleeting touch contained all my gratitude, affection, and that unspoken tenderness I couldn't express otherwise.
It's funny, after so much time I'd gotten so used to French that I only used English in letters to my family or friends. But when I thought about it, I immediately started perceiving everything differently.
"Au revoir, Mademoiselle Céline."
"Au revoir, Monsieur Arcturus."
She slowly withdrew her hand and stepped back to her family. I took the final step to Madame Isabelle, who silently handed me the Portkey. Taking it, I felt the cold metal in my palm and turned to face everyone gathered, performing the last formality.
"Moi, Arcturus-Corvus Armand Malefoy, je suis reconnaissant à la famille Millefeuille pour son accueil des plus hospitaliers. Au revoir. Et encore une fois… merci pour tout !" (I, Arcturus-Corvus Armand Malfoy, am grateful to the Millefeuille family for their most hospitable welcome. Goodbye. And once again… thank you for everything!
I said this official statement loudly for all to hear, finally ending this "drama." You'd think it would be simple to say goodbye and leave after a month and a half as a guest, but apparently, I'd grown too attached to my distant relatives, just as they probably had to me.
I clenched the cold metal of the Portkey in my palm, mentally activating it. Magic, upon touching the activator, started the artifact, and the familiar, stomach-twisting tug announced the start of the journey. The sunny courtyard of the Millefeuille estate with its magnificent garden, cypress trees on the horizon, and the faces of relatives — all swirled, turning into a kaleidoscope of glittering fragments. And I was back in Britain?
But here, everything went wrong.
The expected smooth transition didn't follow. Instead — a sharp, soul-wrenching jerk, as if space itself had torn from within, unable to bear the burden of transport. I felt the support vanish from under my feet and fell down into pitch darkness. The pressure on my eyes was so intense that everything was veiled. I went blind! Instead of a clear picture of a new place, I got only darkness and a deafening impact on rocky ground. Hitting painfully, I skidded across the stones. Yes, I was literally thrown onto the rocks!
My palms, reflexively put out to soften the fall, were burned bloody, and I felt the skin tear. At least nothing broke. I was still blind, trying to blink my vision back. I calmed down a little as my sight slowly began to return. My knees, hands, my whole body was pierced with pain, twisting my muscles — classic consequences of a botched teleportation, but not with a Portkey! This isn't Apparition to cause Splinching! With difficulty, I unclenched my fist and looked at my palm, torn to shreds and bleeding — the important thing was it wasn't down to the bone. Phew… it was okay. I needed at least a minute to come to my senses, catch my breath, and see something around me.
Where am I!?
The thought, sharp and panicked, pierced my consciousness, which hadn't yet fully grasped the horror of what had happened. I lay on a damp, cold, rocky floor. The air was heavy and stale, and the rising dust clogged my nose and mouth. Because of the blood, the dust stuck to my wounded hands… Disgustingly damp. I was clearly not in the Ministry of Magic or any other familiar place. This was a cave or some kind of dungeon. Everything swam before my eyes, but gradually the darkness receded, yielding to semi-darkness.
My hands burned, my knees ached, and my whole body hurt — such a thing could only happen if the Portkey was made with an error. Then the arrival location, height, and other factors could lead to this. But I also got injuries before the fall, apparently something was wrong… completely! The fall height wasn't fatal, and I didn't break anything. Lucky… amidst this misfortune. What are the odds... pull yourself together! Need to figure out where I am.
Clenching my teeth, I tried to get up, leaning on my less injured hand. And at the very moment when I, overcoming the pain, almost stood up, the instincts honed by months of grueling training kicked in faster than thought. My body itself jerked to the side. I barely managed to move my head away from the beam of a flying curse. Where my torso had been a second before, a blindingly crimson spell roared past with a deafening, eardrum-tearing sound.
My eyes hadn't fully adapted yet, but as if through thick fog, I could see the vague outline of deadly energy, which, passing centimeters from me, crashed into the rocky wall with a deafening roar.
Even without hitting me directly, the shockwave threw me aside with force. My face burned with sharp pain, and a hoarse groan tore from my lungs, expelling the last of the air. My eyes hurt — from the acrid dust, from the pressure changes during teleportation, from the crushing force of the impact…
Sharp, burning pain pierced my shoulder and back, and darkness clouded my vision again.
This wasn't a Stupefy or a dueling Expelliarmus. No, this was a curse of a different caliber — powerful, maiming, of crushing force. Most likely, some kind of enhanced Stunning or Banishing spell of combat level. Such a curse was designed to stun with certainty — and to maim, seriously injure, or possibly kill on the spot was just a possible miss of the attacker… Hah. The chances certainly weren't a hundred percent, but they definitely existed. Someone was here, in this darkness, and their intentions left no doubt. And this darkness was only a problem for my eyes, which still couldn't see properly. But he definitely saw me.
Struggling to my feet, I frantically felt my belt — that's where my wand should have been, because the usual shoulder holster, where my wand should have been securely kept, would have "ruined" the look of the robe! Damn this blasted robe!
Blood mixed with dust and dirt… it was disgusting and painful, but I frantically tried to find my wand…
It's not there! Where is my wand!? Cursed robe and my mother's advice! My heart pounded wildly, clouding my consciousness with a white veil of mounting panic. Panic unfamiliar to me...