Chapter 223: The Rocher Couple
Kristin inadvertently met Melvin’s gaze, her eyes slightly evasive.
In the first 17 years living at Rosier Manor, she thought this mansion was wonderful, the castle clean and tidy, the rooms spotless, streetlights along the roads surrounded by fairies, garden fountains glowing at nightfall, any need summonable by house-elf, just like a fairy tale world.
After graduation living in Romania, quitting her Auror job to teach at Beauxbatons, preferring to stay at school over summer vacation rather than go home, having seen normal wizarding family life, experienced Muggle family life, returning here after two years, now facing the house-elf butler and this manor, she inexplicably felt ashamed.
Kristin hurriedly gestured that she had no needs, nor did she need service for the remaining short stretch of road, urging the house-elf to withdraw quickly; the butler’s service mindset was overly thorough, even bowing to them before leaving and greeting the visiting guests.
Kristin recalled asking her parents several times during school why Beauxbatons had no house-elves to greet and see off; her mother looked dignified and told her this was the exclusive pomp of deep-rooted wizarding families, something Beauxbatons couldn’t match.
She used to think the Rosier family’s heritage was great, house-elves attentive servant nannies, always ready to play with little wizards, responding to all her needs; young Kristin didn’t even need to voice her demands, a few glances or gestures and the house-elf understood, serving up meals, candy, and toys.
On Midsummer Night, seeing the castle gradually light up, fairies dancing gracefully in the garden, barefoot circling and running by the hot springs, earning her father’s fondness and praise.
Now thinking back, these were all dregs left by ancient families; normal wizarding families, even if owning house-elves, wouldn’t train them so subserviently with whips; the luxurious gardens and streetlights were just to show off grandeur.
This grandeur wasn’t for the children at home to play in, but to show off to other guests at holiday banquets and balls, exchanging their admiring envious gazes for the Rosier family’s glory—glory that was useless yet extravagantly indulgent.
Now the family was waning, those guests who once praised endlessly even unwilling to visit; her mother still bitterly upheld this extravagance—not really wrong, she just didn’t want the Rosier family to become a laughingstock under her watch.
Forcing her to study alchemy and enter the related field was also for the Rosier family, to rekindle this fading family’s glory; but back then she couldn’t appreciate it, felt wronged, felt her mother only wanted a tool and no longer loved her, so willfully chose to go far to Romania, throwing herself on Aunt Vida.
Returning to France for the Beauxbatons interview, she had been to Paris, but didn’t know how to face her parents, only pausing briefly at the door before hurrying away.
This return to Rosier Manor was justified by Salem’s cultists.
Melvin had no particular thoughts on the house-elf’s demeanor; walking toward the foyer, he kept looking around appraisingly—this brilliantly lit manor very wizardly in his eyes; whenever a fairy circled around a lamp post, he would stop to watch, like a Muggle family child newly arrived at Hogwarts, curious about everything novel.
Hogwarts and Ilvermorny used these delicate yet beautiful little creatures to decorate the castle on grand holidays, but none matched Rosier Manor making them part of the daily lighting.
Nesting fairy nests in lamp posts yet ensuring their normal life activities, even making them dance happily—this required combining alchemy with animal habits.
Many thoughts flashed through Kristin’s mind; she glanced at the young professor beside her, feeling it necessary to explain the reason for this invitation:
“France and Britain are very similar; many ancient wizarding families live here. In a sense, the wizarding family history on this land is even longer than Britain’s. Some pure-blood wizard ancestors from France migrated there, landing with William the Conqueror to establish new families.”
Melvin eyed the grand castle in the distance: “From Muggle Studies perspective, wizards generally live longer than Muggles; magic also lets wizards acquire wealth more conveniently and quickly. Before the Secrecy Law was enacted, wizarding families proliferated and expanded faster and longer than Muggle nobles.”
Malfoy and Nott’s ancestors both followed William the Conqueror to Britain; before rising, these two families were quite ordinary.
Rosier and Lestrange had deeper heritage, prominent in Britain and France, with branches in multiple countries and continents; during the New Continent migration wave, some kin went to North America but failed to develop strongly.
“The French Ministry of Magic was established late; wizards here don’t take《 the Secrecy Law》 so seriously. Almost every wizarding family has business dealings with Muggles, so no large-scale pure-blood ideology; later influenced by Grindelwald and the Cabal, some wizards began hating Muggles, but only upheld wizard supremacy, not revering pure-blood.
“After Grindelwald’s fall, this group of wizards faced reckoning, plus the International Confederation of Wizards’ accountability, the Death Eaters’ rise—over recent decades, French wizards’ thoughts and views unexpectedly changed: some began promoting pure-blood, some contacted Budapest to get close to Muggles, others believed Muggles and wizards equal but wizards should strictly obey the Secrecy Law, keeping distance from Muggles.”
Kristin slowed her steps slightly; her Aunt Vida was a core Cabal member, and she counted as half a new-generation Cabalist. “Divergences breed disturbance and disputes; the French Ministry of Magic cycled through five Ministers in a row, none lasting long, internal factions constantly clashing, so Mr. Bonnel can’t fully cooperate on the screening work.”
Melvin nodded: “So what does this have to do with you inviting me as a guest?”
“The Rosier family is too deeply mired in the vortex; though factional struggles have wins and losses, overall family power is steadily declining. My mother is single-minded on stopping losses and revitalizing the family; without special reason, she won’t act.”
Kristin paused briefly: “Need a big shot, a big shot with enough weight to step in.”
“I’m a big shot with weight?” Melvin couldn’t help laughing.
“You are.”
Kristin looked up into Melvin’s pitch-black eyes: “Order of Merlin recipient, honored guest of the Romanian Ministry of Magic, Magic Mirror Club founder—these titles carry more weight than you think, very much more.”
“Me stepping in would convince your mother?”
Melvin found it odd; after all, he was an outsider—how could he be more persuasive than her own daughter?
Kristin walked side by side, gazing at the foyer lights ahead, her voice clear and faint: “When you meet my mother later, just say you’re interested in promoting projection mirrors in France. My mother and Aunt Vida corresponded, knowing this business’s profits; to win the Magic Mirror Club founder’s favor, she’ll be willing to dispatch manpower to help screen Obscurials.”
Melvin glanced at the witch: “Aren’t you selling out your own family’s interests?”
“I’ll make it up.”
Kristin didn’t specify how; Melvin didn’t press further.
Perhaps Romania’s fire dragon business, or something else—this was their family’s internal matter.
Not really selling family interests; screening work wasn’t direct combat, cautious action incurred no damage; normally could hire local wizards with money, but time was short and task urgent, no time to recruit and organize.
After resolving the cultists and Obscurus, the Rosier family gains face with Madame Maxime and the Ministry—these profits ample enough.
Ascending marble steps into the foyer, the castle brightly lit yet empty; the circular hall had two curved staircases to the upper floor. Melvin followed Kristin, appraising the furnishings with restrained gaze; the Rosier home interior not very wizardly—no tapestries with family trees, no ancestral magical portraits.
Sensing his thoughts, Kristin said softly: “North side has a tower for displaying portraits; the family tree is there too. Also, our family has no ghosts.”
“I wasn’t looking for ghosts.”
Melvin defended weakly.
A light cough came from above the staircase; both looked up simultaneously—the castle’s true master stood there.
Mr. Rosier was a portly middle-aged wizard, balding with a Mediterranean hairstyle, side hair graying, unremarkable features that would blend into tourists at the Louvre gates—hard to spot if not daily familiar kin.
Mrs. Rosier left a deeper impression; just standing quietly there drew all the room’s lights to her, her overlapping hands and straight back exuding noble witch-trained poise.
Her frame tall, figure still echoing her youth, fair skin, faint lines at neck and cheeks, thin lips sharply defined, thick golden hair slightly faded, roots light flaxen gray.
Most strikingly signature were those Rosier family eyes; if Kristin’s were lake-like pale blue, Mrs. Rosier’s were glacier-sharp ice blue, whites startlingly clear, gaze calm yet piercing.
As her gaze lightly swept over, Melvin felt her instantly assessing his background, re-education, and value.
Kristin called out somewhat bitterly: “Mother, Father…”
“You still know to come back!” Mr. Rosier laughed scoldingly. “Not studying alchemy is fine, but running off to Romania without a word—if not for your Aunt Vida’s letter, your mom would have…”
“Cough…”
The old father’s nagging cut off by a cough; Mrs. Rosier looked at the pair below, tone not high yet every word clear: “Nino said you brought a guest back. Won’t you introduce us?”
Kristin glanced aside, switching to English: “This is Professor Levent from Hogwarts. I’m sure Aunt Vida mentioned him. Professor Levent, these are my parents.”
Mrs. Rosier’s gaze shifted, various candlelights and crystal lamp reflections in her ice-blue eyes obscuring her thoughts: “Professor Levent, what a surprise.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rosier, Mrs. Rosier.” Melvin breathed relief; wizarding family elite education—the Rosiers fluent in foreign languages.
“…”
The Rosier couple descended the steps; both sides exchanged insubstantial pleasantries and greetings.
Beyond Kristin’s expectations, the atmosphere very harmonious, as if Melvin’s arrival made them forget past family conflicts; mother’s expression like thawing glacier, temporarily mild; old father resumed nagging.
The atmosphere between Mrs. Rosier and Kristin very subtle,
“Rushing back in such haste—have you had dinner? I’ll have the kitchen prepare hot dishes. Shall we talk at the dining table?”
Mr. Rosier seemed eager for Melvin to stay, buying ample time to ease family conflicts, thus extra enthusiastic.
Melvin spent the day investigating Obscurus matters, lunch only some hot dogs to fill his stomach—indeed no dinner; he cheerfully agreed.
The family of three and guest arrived at the antechamber dining table; house-elves served prepared dishes and red wine: caviar with toast, white truffle and foie gras, Danish pastries with raisins, exaggeratedly shaped lobster—lavish beyond reason, not at all like hastily prepared.
Melvin could tell this dinner was prepared for the long-absent daughter; he minimized his presence, making Kristin the table’s focus.
“We know you returned as assistant teacher, doing well at Beauxbatons; Christmas gift was Pyrenees Mountains specialty. Before Boxing Day banquet, I wanted to write asking you back; your mother threw a tantrum, burned my letter.”
Mr. Rosier treated it as ordinary family banquet, nagging nonstop: “Sigh… you two mother-daughter pair, carved from the same mold—clearly missing each other yet unwilling to yield.”
“I wanted to tell you after formally becoming professor.”
“What’s good about professor—tiring and troublesome…”
Melvin silently savored authentic French cuisine, not speaking up for the profession; it was indeed troublesome, more so with a headmaster like Dumbledore.
But this warm reunion lasted only to appetizers’ end; Mrs. Rosier took the topic, naturally overriding the father-daughter voices after so long: “Professor Levent, the Magic Mirror Club business must be busy—whatever brought you to Paris?”
“Summer vacation travel here.”
Melvin slowed his eating.
“Browsed the local wizarding markets?”
“Arrived in Paris just two days ago, haven’t had time.”
“Has Professor Levent considered promoting projection mirror business in France? Market prospects broad here; the Rosier family can aid the club’s development.”
Melvin sipped red wine, meeting Kristin’s gaze.
The main act had arrived.
