Chapter 221: Meeting Again
Four floors underground in Fürstenberg Square, the light from the crystal chandelier gradually turned crystalline blue, extending from the corridor passage into the office, giving the cool-toned decor a serene and desolate feel.
Compared to other floors in the Ministry of Magic, it was indeed much quieter here, with no sign of staff or wizards handling business; the entire circular hall was deathly silent, with only the occasional sound of parchment notes flying by hurriedly.
The fireplace connecting to the Pyrenees Mountains was placed opposite the elevator and had not been used for a long time, covered in a layer of ash.
This was the dedicated passage between the French Ministry of Magic and Beauxbatons. When it was built, it was said to be only for handling emergency affairs, but within a few decades it became a student-only channel. Beauxbatons did not have a dedicated train like Hogwarts, and students often borrowed the Ministry of Magic’s fireplaces to go to school before term started.
But now it was summer vacation, the magic school had long been on holiday, and the staff in the Education Office were also on vacation, leaving only a recent graduate intern on duty.
Footsteps approached from afar, two wizards one after the other. The one in front walked hurriedly but often stopped, seemingly unfamiliar with the Ministry of Magic’s layout, occasionally pausing to look at the signs on the wall. The wizard behind was much more composed, following unhurriedly.
The visitors stopped in front of the door, checked the nameplate, and raised a hand to knock.
“Sorry, it’s summer vacation now, the Education Office can’t handle business. Come back in mid-August.”
The intern wizard said in a muffled tone, sounding a bit awkward. Having just graduated and landed this job, no one taught him how to handle business, so he could only apologize and put them off.
Outside the office, Mr. Graves looked down at the note in his hand, which bore the Auror Office seal. Not long ago, Bonnel had assured them confidently that he still had this authority.
“We were sent by Mr. Bonnel. We have an urgent case.” Mr. Graves raised his voice.
“Mr. Bonnel from the Auror Office?”
The office door opened, revealing a young wizard who had just graduated, his face still a bit boyish. He stood behind the office doorway in a pure black Ministry of Magic uniform robe, looking awkward after opening the door.
Mr. Graves didn’t even ask his name, pushed the door open, handed him the note, and said hurriedly, “We need to contact Beauxbatons as soon as possible. It’s extremely urgent. How do we do it?”
The intern took the note and glanced at it, asking blankly, “Urgent case… why not just send someone directly to the Pyrenees Mountains?”
Mr. Graves cursed Bonnel inwardly but kept his composure, waving his hand. “That’s not your concern. Just contact them as soon as possible.”
The intern was indeed just an intern and was easily brushed off. “I can light the fireplace immediately, but due to Beauxbatons’ security measures, I can’t send you through. I can only report that your heads and voices are in the fire over there.”
Mr. Graves asked seriously, “When can we reach them?”
“That… I don’t know.”
The intern explained in a low voice, “Beauxbatons only has the caretaker and a few assistant teachers staying on campus, and maybe Madame Maxime is there too, but the fireplace connected to the Ministry of Magic is in the tower on the west side of the castle, which few people visit normally. We can only pray the house-elf sees it while cleaning.”
“If it’s a matter of luck, then let’s get lucky. Connect the fireplace now!”
The three arrived at the fireplace in the circular hall. The intern took firewood from the nearby cabinet and lit the fire:
“This is the Ministry of Magic. Urgent case contacting Beauxbatons…”
“Anyone there? Anyone there?”
Melvin took off his jacket, found a chair to sit in, and looked around. The dim room suddenly brightened, with the crystal lamps and stained glass sparkling in the firelight. Though it was a scorching summer day, the Ministry of Magic was underground with low temperatures, so being near the fire wasn’t uncomfortably hot.
Mr. Graves’s shouts echoed through the circular hall. The quiet Education Office suddenly became lively, and the intern smiled, seeming to think it was nice to have company on duty.
The shouting continued for ten minutes before an echo finally came from the fireplace:
“This is Beauxbatons…”
Melvin suddenly heard a familiar voice and turned his gaze to the fire, exclaiming in surprise, “Kristin?”
The young witch’s head stood perfectly upright in the flames, her dark brown hair casually pinned up with a few strands falling along her cheeks, bright light blue eyes with a cool gaze as if staring into the distance, distinct thick eyebrows, and fair skin dotted with a few natural freckles.
“Professor Levent?” The witch’s eyes lit up with surprise at seeing this old friend in the French Ministry of Magic.
“How did you end up back at Beauxbatons as an assistant teacher?”
“After running into you in Romania last time, I suddenly thought returning to teach at school wasn’t a bad idea.”
Kristin said softly, looking at the young professor’s surprised expression. Her full lips curved up slightly, adding a touch of softness to her cool demeanor.
“When did this happen? What subject are you teaching?”
“Defence Against the Dark Arts. I passed Madame Maxime’s interview over the Christmas holiday, have been an assistant teacher for half a year now, and will officially teach next term.”
“Hm, it fits your professional experience well, and Beauxbatons’ Defence Against the Dark Arts class doesn’t have all those messy curses…” Melvin wanted to exchange more teaching experiences, but before he could speak, the impatient Mr. Graves squeezed to the front of the fireplace.
“You can catch up later!”
Mr. Graves grumbled irritably, then immediately launched into the case details, from the shootout in Texas to the battle in Père Lachaise Cemetery, from the Purifiers to the Obscurus. He said three Obscuri were now lurking in Paris City Area, putting all of Paris in peril, and criticized the high-level officials in the French Ministry of Magic for inaction, the Auror Office for stalling, and Bonnel for vague deflections.
“…quickly notify Madame Maxime. We need Beauxbatons’ help to find those little wizards who have turned into Obscuri as soon as possible.”
Mr. Graves let out a long sigh. It had been a long time since he had spoken so freely and thoroughly.
The intern listened to the whole story and was stunned, standing there wide-eyed. Kristin turned to Melvin beside her. “Is he telling the truth?”
Melvin nodded. “It’s true.”
“I’ll go find Madame Maxime right away!”
With that, Kristin vanished from the flames.
……
Night fell, and the top-floor hotel restaurant lit up with both modern incandescent lights and vintage crystal lamps. Each dining table had beautiful candlelight, the lights dazzling. Through the giant floor-to-ceiling glass windows, one could overlook the scenery along both banks of the Seine River.
This was the expensive hotel’s dinner service, with a semi-open kitchen where the French cuisine chef, who had been on magazine covers, unreservedly showed off his skills. Hot oil ignited in the pan, shooting up flames, eliciting frequent gasps from the female guests.
Slender waiters in black formal wear, with white handkerchiefs in their jacket pockets, pushed serving carts full of dishes and champagne through the aisles.
“Merlin above, I can’t fit another thing in my stomach.” Hermione propped her face with both hands on the snow-white tablecloth, carefully suppressing a burp as she spoke, but her praise was sincere. “The strawberry ice cream here is too delicious.”
“I think the ice cream from the daytime ice cream serving cart was more delicious.”
Mr. Granger held silverware, slowly putting foie gras into his mouth, his slightly balding forehead gleaming. “Though the ice cream here is more exquisitely made and the ingredients more premium, ice cream should be eaten at the hottest time of noon, after shopping until your forehead sweats, waiting ten minutes in line at the ice cream cart, then digging out a full spoonful.”
The usually steady dentist made a rapturous expression, unclear if he was savoring the foie gras or reminiscing about the daytime ice cream, amusing his wife and daughter.
Hermione suddenly felt a bit of space in her stomach again, took a piece of foie gras from her father, then covered her mouth for a small burp.
Mrs. Granger found it funny, reached out to smooth her daughter’s messy hair, tied it into a small braid at the back, and flicked her forehead. “Don’t you know how much you can eat? We’re going to the Louvre tomorrow. What if you make yourself sick?”
Hermione whined coquettishly at her mother. Feeling stuffed and dizzy, she caught sight out of the corner of her eye of a girl in a short-sleeved shirt standing at the restaurant doorway, with messy hair like weeds, skinny and frail, gazing at the semi-open kitchen with an indescribable glint in her deep blue eyes.
“Mom, can I get a takeaway steak?” Hermione asked in a low voice.
Mrs. Granger was a bit surprised. “For a midnight snack? We can order room service tonight.”
Hermione shook her head. “I saw that girl from earlier today. I want to bring her some food.”
Mr. and Mrs. Granger were stunned, following her gaze. They had only seen her from afar during the day and thought she was from an orphanage, wearing ill-fitting clothes with a practical haircut, skinny like a stray cub.
That was Mr. Granger’s impression of the girl.
But seeing her in the hotel now, she must be a tourist’s child too. No family that could afford this hotel would let their child get like this, and not giving her dinner would amount to abuse.
“Add a loaf of bread too.” Mrs. Granger stroked her daughter’s hair. “Ask her name and whose child she is. If she’s really being abused, we’ll call the police right away.”
“Mm.” Hermione nodded slightly.
The buffet originally used hotel vouchers, but takeaway required extra payment, though that was nothing to a dentist. They got a well-done steak, worried the child couldn’t handle greasy food, plus truffle bread with crispy, crumbly crust.
Hermione added a few macaron desserts, packed in a paper box with the hotel logo, looking expensive.
……
Carrying the takeaway box out of the restaurant, the girl outside was nowhere to be seen.
“…”
Hermione wanted to call her out, opened her mouth, then realized she didn’t know the girl’s name.
She had no choice but to carry the takeaway box and slowly search along the corridor passage. This floor was all restaurants, only this one open tonight, the other rooms locked, so the girl couldn’t hide far.
But after circling around, she still didn’t see the little girl. Hermione even suspected she had gone downstairs.
Muggle methods weren’t working, so she had to use a wizard’s way. Hermione switched the takeaway box to her left hand, took out her wand into her right palm, and whispered:
【Point the way for me】
The Directional Spell could indicate direction or find someone at short range, as long as the person wasn’t protected by shielding spells, blocking spells, Confundus Charms, or similar magic. Finding an ordinary Muggle girl was simple.
The grapevine wand turned slowly in her palm, failing to point in any direction.
Hermione looked down at the wand in her palm, tilted her head, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Did I eat too much and pitch the spell too high?”
Before she could recast, a ghostly voice came from behind. “What are you doing?”
Hermione froze, then recognized it as the girl from earlier that day. She quickly pocketed her wand, turned around, and hurriedly offered the takeaway box right to the girl’s face.
“I came to find you. I didn’t expect you to be staying at this hotel too. I just saw you outside the restaurant. Have you not had dinner? I brought this for you.”
The little girl stared at the hotel logo on the takeaway box, hesitating, not reaching out for a long time.
“It’s still hot. Eat it soon, or the fat will congeal and give you diarrhea.” Hermione shoved it into her hands and probed, “Are you eating here alone, or taking it back to eat with your family?”
The little girl gripped the takeaway box tightly. “I’ll eat it here!”
The two girls sat on the steps of the fire escape passage, one propping her face with hands and tilting her head slightly, the other holding the takeaway box, poking the pre-cut steak pieces with the hotel-provided fork, cheeks bulging as she chewed.
She must have been hungry for a long time.
Hermione pursed her lips and asked in a low voice, “Can you tell me your name?”
“Bastard.” The little girl kept eating.
What parents would name their child that?!
Hermione gritted her teeth in anger, confirming her suspicion. The little girl definitely wasn’t raised by her birth parents. Like Harry, she was probably boarded with relatives, eating and dressing poorly, with her bedroom being a compartment under the stairs.
At least the Dursleys fed Harry, gave him haircuts, got him glasses. This girl’s relatives were outright abusing her.
We must call the police!
We must prosecute those heartless bastards!
Hermione looked at the girl’s fine soft hair and paused. “Bast… Little Baci, would you like to leave the people who raised you? We can help you live a normal girl’s life.”
“What’s a normal girl’s life?” The little girl looked at her blankly, grease flecks on her mouth.
“You’ll have your own bedroom, eat your fill every day, get properly fitting clothes each season, and occasionally have desserts and candy.” Hermione patiently described life in an orphanage or with a kind adoptive family.
“Will there be whippings?”
“What?!” Hermione was about to explode. “They beat you too, with a whip!”
The little girl shrank back, seemingly scared by the anger in her gaze, stopping eating.
Hermione softened her tone, gently stroking her soft hair. “No, no one will ever hit or scold you again. I guarantee it. If we can’t find a good orphanage or kind people to adopt you, you can come live with us.”
“Will you keep Bastard?”
“Keep?” Hermione furrowed her brows, thinking the child hadn’t had proper education and her language skills were poor. “Anyway, you can come live with us, have your own room and clothes, eat the same food as us, go to school when you’re old enough, and play together on holidays.”
She asked gently, “Would you like that?”
The little girl bit into a macaron, eyes squinting from the sweetness, and nodded vigorously. “I would. You’re better than my previous master.”
