Chapter 100: Departure! France
It was almost noon. Ethan, who had spent the morning bent over, rubbed his sore lower back. After lunch, Cyril took him back to his villa by Apparition.
Once Ethan had recovered, Cyril said, "Study French for another two weeks, then you can go to France."
"Mm." Ethan nodded, said goodbye, and went home.
For the next two weeks, Ethan studied French in the morning, spent the afternoons at Shafiq Manor practicing magic with Cyril, and did his homework at night. Life wasn't much different from school.
During this time, Hermione called several times to ask how he was doing.
When she learned he was going to France, Hermione was disappointed. Her family planned to vacation in North Wales.
Over those two weeks, Cyril taught Ethan many techniques for controlling Hellfire, and his control over the ability improved steadily.
He also celebrated his birthday and received several gifts from friends.
Then one day, Cyril brought an Ashwinder to test whether Ethan's Parseltongue worked on magical creatures as well as ordinary snakes.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss," Ethan hissed, communicating with the dying Ashwinder.
"Hiss, hiss," the Ashwinder replied, crawling toward the corner of the room.
"What are you saying?" Cyril wasn't a Parselmouth; he couldn't understand the conversation between the human and the snake.
"I asked what it was going to do. It said it wanted to find a dark corner to lay eggs. Its time was running out," Ethan translated for Cyril.
"After it finishes laying eggs, use the Freezing Charm to freeze them."
"Mm."
After putting away the frozen snake eggs that could be used to brew Love Potions, Ethan had a somewhat reckless idea: Can I enter the Chamber of Secrets next school year to look for the treasure Slytherin might have left behind? As for the Basilisk, I think with Parseltongue and my Satanic bloodline, I should be able to control it too?
Suppressing the thought, he watched the Hellfire in his hand split into rockets that shot outward.
"Great, Ethan. Your talent is far better than mine. I think you'll surpass me in Hellfire control in a few days." Cyril smiled bitterly.
Ethan said modestly, "I still have a lot to learn."
"Keep practicing. I'll go talk to your grandparents." Cyril patted his shoulder.
After Cyril left, Ethan stayed at the training ground. When he grew tired of practicing, he retreated to the study to read. He continued like this until afternoon, when Cyril returned to take him back to the villa for dinner with his parents.
Two weeks passed in a blur. Between tutoring sessions, Ethan spent his days at Shafiq Manor conversing with Cyril in French. He could now hold basic conversations in French.
"All right, pack up," Sofia said to Ethan after dinner. "We're leaving for France tomorrow."
"Okay, Mom." Ethan nodded and went upstairs to pack.
Albert had spent weeks preparing for this trip, delegating his workload and pulling several late nights to free up an entire week.
Albert and Sofia would return after one week, leaving Ethan and Cyril behind to spend another two weeks in France.
Before they left for the airport, Cyril asked, "Did you pack your wand and Galleons?"
"They're packed." Ethan patted the small black bag in his pocket.
"After we land, we'll need to register your wand. Every wizard has to do that when entering another country," Cyril whispered to Ethan.
After more than an hour in the air, the five of them landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
After collecting his luggage, Cyril signaled to Albert and Sofia to wait. He led Ethan through the terminal, around a few corners, following the signs to an office with a multilingual sign.
"Special Population Registration Office," Ethan read, recognizing the English and French.
Cyril explained, knocking on the door, "This is where visiting wizards register. Without registration, foreign wizards can't freely use magic in France. Get caught, and you'll be punished, maybe even deported."
"Come in."
Inside, a desk faced the door, topped with a computer that looked antique to Ethan.
Behind the desk sat a woman in ordinary office attire.
She wore a black suit and square, black-rimmed glasses, with her chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked to be in her forties or fifties.
"We're here to register," Cyril said, drawing his wand as proof.
Ethan glanced at the nameplate on the desk. It read: Laura Liley.
"Come to the back with me." Laura stood up and opened a door behind her, beckoning them to follow.
The room was much larger than the office they'd just left. Aside from a small area with tables and chairs for registration, the rest of the space was filled with rows of shelves packed with folders.
"Sit." Laura took her place behind the table and picked up a quill, signaling for them to sit opposite her.
Cyril chatted casually with the woman. "Just you today? Last time I came to register, there were two of you."
"My colleague had urgent business. She'll be back soon." The woman didn't look up.
"Name, age, origin, purpose." She wrote at the top of the parchment, then looked up at Cyril.
"Cyril Shafiq, fifty-seven, French, local."
"Shafiq family?" Laura looked up.
Cyril nodded.
"Give me the wand."
Laura placed the wand on the instrument beside her. A slip of paper spat out from below, reading: "Pandanus wood, thirteen inches, dragon heartstring."
She turned to Ethan.
"Ethan Jones, twelve, British, traveling."
"All right. Your wand, please."
Ethan produced the wand he'd readied earlier and handed it over.
Laura placed the wand on the instrument as well. The slip read: "Pandanus wood, twelve and one-third inches, dragon heartstring."
"All right, please abide by the law during your stay in France. Also, underage wizards may not cast spells except in emergencies."
"Okay."
The registration was completed quickly. Before sending them off, the woman smiled and said, "Have a pleasant trip!"
"Thank you," Ethan said politely.
The two met Albert and Sofia, who had been waiting for about ten minutes, and then left Charles de Gaulle Airport. They got into the car Cyril had arranged and headed to the Shafiq ancestral home in the Luxembourg district.
Unlike the British Shafiq Manor in the suburbs, the French Shafiq family's ancestral home stood in the Luxembourg district, the heart of Paris, just five or six hundred meters from the Luxembourg Palace.
The car stopped on a street barely ten meters wide.
"Get out, we're here," Cyril said.
The driver unloaded their luggage, bowed to Cyril, and drove away.
Looking at the medieval-style street, Ethan immediately spotted the house with the "Shafiq House" sign.
"Hold onto Ethan. There's a Muggle-Repelling Charm here. I'll lift it."
Albert and Sofia each grabbed one of Ethan's shoulders and closed their eyes, fighting the sudden urge to leave.
"Sit tight. I'll bring in the luggage."
Then he turned and said in French, "Lala, bring four cups of tea first."
"Yes, Master." An elf, older than Coco, emerged from the kitchen.
The Albert couple were startled to see a house-elf for the first time.
Ethan comforted them. "Don't be afraid. This is a house-elf, much like the full-time nannies we hire in the wizarding world."
"Nanny? You mean there's a race in the wizarding world that works as nannies for wizard families?" Albert watched Lala closely as he worked in the kitchen.
Ethan explained, "Yes, there are many races in the wizarding world.
"You've seen Goblins in Diagon Alley. They're excellent craftsmen, skilled at making all kinds of silverware, and they run Gringotts.
"House-elves are proficient in everyday household magic, which makes them ideal for domestic service in wizard families."
With magic, Lala soon placed four cups of tea on the coffee table.
Just then, Cyril returned. Having overheard the conversation, he sat on the dark red leather sofa and introduced Lala to the three of them.
"Lala has served the family for more than thirty years. His mother served the Shafiq family before him, and his grandmother before that."
You could say Lala's ancestors have served us since the Shafiq family was founded.
"What about Coco? Has she served at Shafiq Manor for generations too?"
Cyril nodded. "Yes, most House-elves are the same. They serve one family for generations and rarely leave."
It was still early, nowhere near bedtime. Cyril took them on a tour of the house, which could only be described as a historic site.
"The living room was redecorated while your grandmother was still alive, so the style isn't much different from newer houses, except for the furniture."
"Look up. See that crystal chandelier overhead? It was crafted by a famous artisan in the seventeenth century. We modified it later, replacing the candles with several Gubraithian Fires, so it stays lit even during the day."
Ethan had thought it strange when they entered, wondering why the lights were on in broad daylight. Now he understood why.
Aside from the living room, the other rooms varied in style. Some were luxurious, others simple.
According to Cyril, these reflected the preferences of different ancestors. Later, as the Shafiq family dwindled, the rooms were left vacant but retained their individual styles.
Like Shafiq Manor itself, the household items bore identical dragon-head crests.
When the tour ended, it was time for dinner.
The couple raved about the exquisite French meal Lala had prepared, much to the elf's delight.
Later that evening, Cyril brought out a Wizard's Chess set made from Fire Crab shells for the couple to play with while he took Ethan to the study.
In the Shafiq ancestral home, the only Gubraithian Fire was in the living room; the other rooms were lit by magical lamps.
In the pale yellow glow, the portraits of Shafiq ancestors on the study wall gleamed with gold borders.
"Ethan, these are the ancestors of our French Shafiq family."
Cyril pointed to a portrait of a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a red jacket with gold trim, black pants, and a narrow belt.
"This is Olivia Shafiq, the founding ancestor who came from Britain to France and founded the French branch of the Shafiq family."
"Hello, my descendant," he said in French with a heavy London accent.
"Hello, Ancestor Olivia." Ethan bowed slightly.
Cyril was satisfied with his response.
Cyril introduced them one by one in chronological order. The last was his own portrait.
"Your grandmother's portrait isn't here; it's in my room. If you'd like to chat with her, I'll have her come to the study later."
After introducing the family ancestors, Cyril took out a stack of parchment.
"These are the family businesses. Like your grandfather's, we own several shops, some private factories, and have stakes in others."
"But we also have something rather special: a dragon reserve in France where we raise Common Welsh Greens and Swedish Short-Snouts."
"Our family has a special affinity for dragons, so we have considerable expertise in that area." Cyril raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.
Ethan felt a bit strange. He had wanted to ask earlier: "Then why didn't my grandfather's side raise dragons?"
"That's because there are more dragon reserves in Britain."
"The dragon reserve originally established by the Shafiq family closed down because of poor management."
"That was in the mid-nineteenth century."
"Your grandfather also often complained that his ancestors let the family lose its connection to dragons."
Ethan smiled helplessly. "So that's it. What a pity."
Ethan talked to the portraits of his ancestors in the study for a while, then to his grandmother's portrait, before heading downstairs to watch Albert and Sofia's Wizard's Chess match.
When Ethan appeared, Sofia looked relieved. "Son, come here!"
Ethan hurried over to the table and looked at their game. "Mom, are you losing?"
Sofia complained to her son, "Your dad's been using the fact that he's slightly better at chess than me to win three games in a row. Come help me beat him."
"Hmph. Even if you two team up, I can still beat you." Albert waved his hand with bravado.
The fierce battle lasted until around eleven that night. After Ethan joined, the two sides were evenly matched.
Finally, Sofia yawned. "All right, let's call it a day."
"No! One more game. It's three to three, and I'm definitely going to win the next one!" Albert protested.
"No more. Time for bed."
Albert had no choice but to stomp his foot petulantly and follow Sofia upstairs to wash up and go to bed.
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