(All talking is in french, but written in english. hope this helps with immersion:))
The heavy scent of blooming night jasmine drifted in through the open balcony doors of the Rosier manor. A few days had passed since the intense afternoon at the dueling salon, and the initial, dizzying shock of discovering her family tree was finally beginning to settle into a steady, hum of awareness in the back of Fila's mind.
She was currently sitting in the library, a room that looked more like a museum of dark wood, leather bound books, and floating green candles. In front of her lay a thick stack of official looking parchment, stamped with the elaborate, wax seal of the French Ministry of Magic.
Her official French citizenship papers.
Just as Vinda had promised, the paperwork had been pushed through in record time. On paper, she was now Ophelia Rosier Grindelwald, a protected citizen of the French Ministry. It was a golden shield against any overreaching British officials, but holding the heavy parchment made her feel a strange, complex mix of safety and overwhelming expectation.
But why not black?
Well for first, fila had never felt like a black. And one might ask if she ever felt like a rosier, no. But she had never even talked with a black. And the Rosier family had accepted her with open arms.
Both Gellert and of course Vinda thought that this was the best approach for her name, she didn't fight it as her last name now sounded way cooler and official.
A soft knock on the open library door pulled her out of her thoughts.
Evan stood in the doorway, having traded his dueling robes for a sharp, impeccably tailored black suit. He looked every bit the wealthy Parisian aristocrat, yet the dangerous glint in his eyes remained.
"Admiring the paperwork, Little Flower?" Evan asked, strolling into the room and leaning against the edge of the massive mahogany desk. "You have been staring at those seals for twenty minutes. If you look at them any harder, they might catch fire."
Fila looked up, offering a faint smile. "It is just... strange. A few weeks ago, I was being monitored at school. Now, I have a ministry and an ancient family standing behind me. It feels like I traded one cage for a much more comfortable, gilded one."
Evan's smile softened, losing its usual sharp edge. "That is the Rosier way, Ophelia. We do not survive by hiding. We survive by building walls that no one else can climb. But you cannot stay in this library forever. Mother is waiting in the conservatory. It is time to discuss what comes next for your education."
"What do you mean?" she asked confused.
They both walked together to the Conservatory. She sat at a rounded table, sipping on coffee.
Evan pulled out a chair for her with a flourish before claiming his own. Vinda set her coffee cup down, her sharp eyes moving from the stack of papers in Fila's hand to the young girl's face.
"Fila. I have wanted to ask you a question about your school for a while now." She began, looking at Ophelia for change in facial expression. "I was wondering if you would like to transfer here, to France. And attend Beauxbatons."
The words didn't register in Filas mind as she heard them. how could she transfer, all her friends… but the more she thought about it. the headmaster's way of treating her as she would just step aside. How the aurorers had been at school, while a death eater wandered the same corridors as her, which made her experience the most torturous spell know to man.
She didn't say anything for a while, she thought about it. being here in France with her family she never knew she had.
But she couldn't deny that she would miss her friends, and the school she so loved.
"I know it is a lot to consider, Little Leaf," Vinda said softly, her voice cutting through the heavy silence like a warm breeze. "You do not have to give us an answer this very second. But understand that if you choose to stay here, Beauxbatons will welcome you as royalty. You will not have to look over your shoulder anymore."
"And if you go back," Evan added, his voice carrying a dark, protective edge, "you go back as a Rosier. They won't dare touch a hair on your head without starting an international incident. You hold all the cards now."
Fila looked down at her coffee, watching her reflection ripple. The terrified girl from Nurmengard was gone. She was Ophelia Rosier Grindelwald now.
"I… I will think about it. I definitely will." She finally said.
Fila did not say anything for a long time. The conflict of wanting a fresh start with family versus missing the castle and friends she loved left her feeling entirely suspended in the middle.
Vinda, seeing the sudden, heavy emotional shift on Fila's face, didn't push. Her sharp eyes softened immediately. "We are moving too fast," Vinda noted gently, reaching across the table to cover Fila's hand. "Let us set the school topic aside for now. You have had enough earth shattering news for one week."
"Agreed," Evan chimed in, leaning forward with a wink. "Let us talk about something much more entertaining: the rest of the family you are inevitably going to have to deal with."
Fila blinked, looking up from her coffee cup. The word family still made her heart do a strange little flip. "There are more?"
"Oh, quite a few," Evan chuckled, stowing his wand in his sleeve. "The Rosiers are an old tree with very deep, very tangled roots spreading across Europe. Right now, it's mostly just us here in Paris holding down the main manor, but we have relatives scattered all over. You have a few cousins you'll end up running into eventually."
Vinda smiled. "A lot of cousins, like Lucien, Anna and felix. These are Evan's children. And then then we have my brothers children and so on, its starting to be cramped here around Christmas." She said with a light chuckle.
Fila's eyes widened, her coffee cup pausing halfway to her lips. "Evan's children? You have kids?"
She turned her head rapidly to look at her uncle, who had suddenly developed a very intense interest in smoothing out a non existent wrinkle on his expensive black sleeve.
"Three of them," Evan admitted, clearing his throat. The dangerous, unstoppable duelist suddenly looked a little flustered, which Fila found absolutely delightful. "Lucien is the oldest. He is about your age, actually. Anna and Felix are the twins, a couple of years younger. They are currently away with their mother visiting her family in the south of France, which is why the manor has been so unnaturally quiet lately."
"They are a handful, Ophelia," Vinda added, her eyes dancing with amusement at her son's sudden shift in energy. "Lucien is incredibly sharp, though far more interested in his books and academic standing than getting into dueling matches in abandoned salons like his father. Felix and Anna, however... let us just say they inherited the more active Rosier traits."
Fila listened with absolute fascination. Uncle Evan wasn't just a terrifyingly talented wizard who could perform partial Apparition mid duel; he was a dad. And she had cousins. Real, living cousins who were close to her age, who would be running around this very manor in a few months.
Listening to them talk about aunts, uncles, and cousins made the massive, intimidating concept of a bloodline feel like something real and alive. It wasn't just a list of names in a history book or a set of old portraits covered in dust.
"Don't worry, Little Leaf," Vinda said, her voice dropping to that endlessly soft, reassuring tone as she noticed Fila's wide eyed expression. "You do not have to meet any of them until you are ready. We are shielding you from the rest of the world until you decide how you want to step into it."
Evan smiled, leaning in as his confident smirk returned. "But when you do meet them, just remember to show them that Grindelwald pivot you used on me. That will shut Lucien right up."
Fila let out a genuine laugh, the heavy knot of anxiety about her school choices finally unraveling a little bit.
And with that a few days went by in the warm sun of July.
Fila was thoroughly enjoying every second of it as she leaned back in the green grass of the backyard. In her hand she had a letter she had received from her friends. She hadn't sent any back yet but she would soon enough.
June wrote about a trip to China. Calla had gone to Mexico together with Elliot, which made Fila smile. It was nice seeing them happy together.
Milles had been teaching his younger sister some basic magic and other things since she was going to attend her first year at Ilvermorny this year. Maybe another little thunderbird.
Theo however, had gone to England. Which puzzled Fila since he had always said he would never go there on his own free will, he hated the weather.
Fila traced the ink on Theo's parchment with her finger. It was just so typical of him to complain about the rain and then head straight for London. She wondered what could possibly be important enough to make him brave the gloomy British weather.
The warm July sun washed over her, a stark and beautiful contrast to the chilly, grey image of England in her mind. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the rich scent of the manor's gardens anchor her.
A shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. Fila opened her eyes to see Evan standing over her, holding two cold glasses of what looked like sparkling lemonade.
"I see the post arrived," Evan noted, nodding toward the scattered parchment in the grass as he handed her a glass and sat down beside her. "Your friends from school?"
"Yeah," Fila said softly, taking a sip. The cool, tart liquid was perfect in the summer heat. "They are all over the place. China, Mexico, the States... and Theo went to England, which is just weird for him."
Evan shrugged, leaning back on his elbows. "People go where they have business, Little Flower. Or where they are running from it." He slanted a look at her. "You still haven't written them back yet. Are you avoiding telling them you are officially a French aristocrat now?"
Fila let out a small sigh, setting her glass down in the grass. "I just don't know what to say, Evan. 'Hey guys, turns out I am not just a Grindelwald, I am also a Rosier. My grandmother is a political mastermind and I spent my Tuesday getting blasted off a dueling platform by my uncle.' It is a lot."
"It is a lot," Evan agreed easily, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But true friends do not care about the titles or the family trees. They care that you are safe. And that you are happy." He nudged her shoulder playfully. "Besides, you have to write back soon. If you do not tell them where you are, how are they going to visit you before the summer ends?"
Fila looked at him, her eyes widening slightly. "They can visit?"
"This is your home, Ophelia," Vinda's smooth, unmistakable voice called out from behind them. Fila turned to see her grandmother walking down the stone path, holding a parasol to shield herself from the sun. "Of course your friends are welcome here. The House of Rosier does not close its doors to those who have proven loyal to its children."
A bright, genuine smile spread across Fila's face. The idea of bringing June, Calla, Miles, and even a grumpy Theo to this gorgeous manor filled her with a rush of excitement she had not felt in weeks.
"Well then," Fila said, grabbing a clean sheet of parchment and a self inking quill from her bag. "I guess I have some letters to write."
After spending the better part of the morning writing letter, she now found herself alone. But not totally. Surrounding here were flowers who had started to grow. Since leaving Nurmengard she understood that she had to grow in fields she thought she already knew everything. Using her powers differently wouldn't hurt her.
The flowers bloomed with her magic as guidance. A few ideas had circled her mind lately. What if she could use the flowers to listen, use them as a sort of listening device. Connecting her to the flower using magic wasn't something she never had done before. Fila could already feel emotions flowers could emit, and from that use it to sort out what she needed, just like she did when she looked for Calla and Elliot who were hiding during creature practice.
As the flowers took her magic she could feel their emotions, some were happy, others wanted more sun and some wanted shadow.
Fila closed her eyes, letting her fingertips lightly brush against the soft petals of a large, vibrant hydrangea. She took a deep breath, pushing her magic outward, not as a command, but as a thread of connection.
Listen, she thought, pouring the intention into the roots.
Instantly, her mind was flooded with a sensory overload. It wasn't hearing spoken words, not at first. It was a wave of physical needs and raw feelings. She felt the heavy, satisfied warmth of a rose bush basking in the direct sun. She felt the sharp, desperate thirst of a cluster of small blue flowers trapped in the dry shade of a massive oak tree.
Fila winced slightly at the sudden rush of it all, grounding herself and focusing. She needed to filter the noise. She remembered how she had found Calla and Elliot back at school. She hadn't looked for them directly; she had looked for the disruption they caused in the environment.
She narrowed her focus, extending her magical thread to a line of pristine white lilies near the stone path where Vinda had walked earlier.
Instead of asking the flowers what they felt, she asked them to mirror what had passed by them.
A sudden, faint echo rippled back through the connection. It wasn't clear sound, but a rhythmic vibration. Tap. Click. Tap. The unmistakable, steady cadence of Vinda's walking stick against the stone.
Fila's eyes snapped open, a brilliant, excited grin spreading across her face. It worked. The flowers didn't just feel; they recorded the vibrations of the world around them like living, breathing tape recorders.
If she could refine this, if she could learn to translate those vibrations back into clear sounds or voices... she wouldn't just be a formidable duelist or a political figure. She would be able to hear anything, anywhere, as long as there was a single green leaf nearby to listen for her.
Her training continued, during breakfast she tried listening to the flower standing in a vase by the window. In her room she listened to the vines she had put around her bedframe.
On walks in the city she listened to the bushes that stood guard in parks.
The sounds were getting clearer by the day, but she had put in many days of this now and her patience only reached so far.
But on one morning while standing in the garden she heard a voice behind her. She turned but saw no one. "Hello?" she called out. But no answer.
The voices and sounds were distorted, like they weren't here but somewhere far away from her.
Fila held her breath, standing perfectly still on the manicured grass. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She looked around the sun drenched garden again, but the space was entirely empty except for the buzzing of a few lazy bumblebees.
The voice hadn't come from the air. It had come from inside her connection.
She quickly dropped to her knees, pressing her palms directly against the cool earth near a patch of wild lavender. She closed her eyes and cast her consciousness wide, letting her magic bleed into the soil and latch onto the root network.
The sensory feedback was instant, but instead of the usual localized feelings of the manor's garden, there was a strange, static hum vibrating through the roots. It felt like holding a live electrical wire.
Then, she heard it again.
The sound was heavily distorted, muffled as if she were listening to someone speaking underwater or through a thick stone wall. It wasn't a voice from the garden. It was an echo traveling through the vast, hidden network of nature itself, bouncing from plant to plant across a distance she couldn't even comprehend.
"Are you... certain?" a voice whispered. The tone was clipped, sharp, and carried a distinct British accent.
Fila's stomach dropped. She gripped the soil tighter, pouring more of her magic into the connection to stabilize the audio. The effort made her head throb, but she pushed through.
"Yes, my Lord," another voice replied, sounding terrified and shaky. "The girl was tracked to Paris. She is staying at the Rosier estate. The Ministry is covering for her."
Fila pulled her hands back from the dirt as if she had been burned, breaking the connection instantly. She sat back on her heels, breathing heavily, her mind racing.
They were tracking her. Someone in England was looking for her, and they knew exactly where she was. Worse, whoever was on the other end of that connection had just used the term 'my Lord'.
She stood up, her knees slightly wobbly, and turned to look back at the imposing, beautiful facade of the Rosier manor. She had thought the high walls and the French Ministry papers had made her untouchable.
Fila rushed inside the manor to where Vinda sat.
"Grandma, it think someone is coming for me." She said in a hurried voice.
Vinda looked up slowly, "How did you know this, I thought I told Evan to be quiet about it."
Fila looked confused.
And Vinda noticed it. "Wait how did you learn about this.?"
Fila's breath was still coming in short, panicked bursts. She looked at her grandmother, the confusion in Vinda's sharp eyes making the alarm in her own chest flare even brighter.
"I heard them," Fila said, her voice trembling slightly as she gestured vaguely back toward the sunlit gardens. "Through the plants. I was practicing connecting to the root systems to see if I could hear vibrations, and I picked up an echo. It was distorted, but I heard a British voice talking to someone they called 'My Lord'. They said I was tracked to Paris and that the French Ministry is covering for me."
She took a step closer to the table, her hands balling into fists to stop them from shaking. "Grandma, they know I am here. But... what did you mean? What was Evan supposed to keep quiet about?"
Vinda's expression transformed instantly. The confusion vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness that was far more terrifying. She set her coffee cup down with a soft click and stood up, her dark eyes locking onto Fila with intense focus.
"The plants," Vinda repeated softly, as if analyzing a complex puzzle. "Incredible. You have made something incredible through nature. We will discuss the vast implications of that later, Ophelia."
Vinda stepped around the table, taking Fila by the shoulders. Her grip was firm and grounding.
"To answer your question... Evan intercepted a message through his own channels yesterday. A group of British Aurors, acting outside of official Ministry orders, have crossed the channel. They are not coming through official diplomatic ports. They are hunting you quietly. I told Evan not to tell you because I did not want to ruin your peaceful summer before we had handled the threat."
Vinda's eyes darkened, a fierce, protective aura suddenly radiating from her poised frame. "But whoever you heard on that connection was not a Ministry Auror. An Auror does not bow and call someone 'My Lord'."
Fila felt a cold chill run down her spine. The death eater in the corridors from last term flashed through her mind.
"Most likely these aurorers are followers of the dark lord. Pathetic little creatures." Vinda said, and it looked like she was growing more frustrated. "Don't worry dear. Evan and his guards are already dealing with it." she said with a warm smile, and she pulled her into a hug. "Trust me dear, no one will get to hurt you."
Fila melted into the hug, letting her grandmother's steady, protective warmth wash over her. It was a strange contrast, hearing Vinda speak so casually and with such venom about followers of a Dark Lord, and then immediately pulling her into a soft, loving embrace.
But even as she rested her head against Vinda's shoulder, her mind was buzzing. Vinda had assumed the voices she heard belonged to the rogue Aurors Evan was currently hunting down. But Fila knew what she had felt through the roots. The raw terror in the servant's voice, the heavy distortion of the magic, and that chilling, possessive edge to the title 'My Lord'.
If the Aurors were already in France being dealt with by Evan, then who had she just overheard talking in England?
She pulled back slightly, looking up at her grandmother. "Grandma, what if the people I heard aren't the Aurors Evan is tracking? What if they are still back in the UK, just planning their next move?"
Vinda's fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind Fila's ear, her sharp eyes studying her granddaughter with immense pride. "Then we let them plan, Ophelia. They can scheme in their dark corners all they like. They are separated from you by an ocean, a ministry, and the full might of the Rosier family. You are safe here."
Fila nodded, trying to force a smile. She wanted to believe it. She really did. But the memory of that cold, distorted echo in the lavender patch was hard to shake.
She walked over to the conservatory window, looking out over the sprawling, beautiful gardens. She looked at the roses, the lilies, and the thick green hedges. They weren't just pretty decorations anymore. They were her eyes. Her ears. Her early warning system.
If anyone else was coming for her, she would hear them coming long before they ever reached the front gates.
After the that whole situation, Fila didn't want to sit around. So she walked herself to Place Cachee. Or the French version of Diagon alley. Just a lot better and not as cramped and dirty.
Walking there alone hadn't made Vinda upset or scared at all, she actually encouraged her to go and discover things on her own. Having a so called baby sitter at all times weren't going to help her.
The shops offered everything from books to potions and she wasn't sparing anything. Buying gifts for her friends and herself.
Her shopping bags were quickly filling up. For Calla, who was off enjoying Mexico, Fila had found a delicate, silver hair comb that looked like a blooming dahlia. When touched with a wand, the petals would slowly open and release a calming, sweet lavender scent.
For June, who was traveling through China, she picked out a rare, leather bound journal from an antique shop. The pages were made from preserved lotus leaves and were completely resistant to water, fire, and ink stains from leaking quills.
For both Elliot and Millies she had gotten them bags of candy. She didn't know what else to buy them.
Then there was Theo.
Fila was currently eyeing a broom. He loved his broom, but it had started showing its age and looked like it would fall apart any day. She stepped inside the quidditch store.
The smell of fresh broom polish and expensive leather filled the air as Fila stepped into the shop. Rows of sleek, polished wood handles rested on velvet racks along the walls.
Unlike the crowded shops in Diagon Alley where kids pressed their faces against the glass to see the newest model, this Parisian boutique was quiet, upscale, and smelled faintly of lavender and cedar.
She walked past a display of racing brooms, her eyes scanning the labels. She didn't know much about Quidditch specs, but she knew what Theo liked. He didn't care about flashy silver foot clips or colorful tail twigs; he wanted speed, precision, and something that could handle a sharp turn without a shudder.
Her eyes landed on a broom resting on its own floating display at the back of the shop.
The wood was a rich, dark ebony that seemed to absorb the light in the room. The twigs at the tail were perfectly straight, bound together with a band of etched silver. A small plaque in front of it read: Le Zéphyr Noir (The Black Zephyr).
"An excellent eye, Mademoiselle," a voice remarked. A shop assistant in a crisp, tailored vest stepped out from the back, clasping his hands together. "The Zéphyr is hand crafted in the French Alps. It is built for raw speed and incredible cornering. Perfect for a Seeker or anyone who takes their flying seriously."
Fila smiled, picturing Theo's face if she sent this to him in gloomy London. It would definitely beat his ancient, falling apart broom. "I will take it," she said without hesitation. "And could you have it securely packaged and shipped to an address in England?"
"Of course, Mademoiselle. Right away."
As the assistant began to carefully wrap the dark broom, Fila wandered over to the window, letting her gaze drift out toward the lively street.
Her fingers brushed against a small, potted fern sitting on the display ledge. Instinctively, she let a thread of her magic seep into the fronds.
She hadn't heard anything these days from the hunters she had listened to. And Vinda hadn't told her anything about how it went with Evan and what he was doing. Could be a good thing but also a very bad one.
As her magic wandered around the flower she heard voices from people going about their everyday life, children laughing, someone crying over a breakup and even kissing.
Fila's lips quirked up in a small, private smile at the sheer normalcy of it all. It was a beautiful contrast to the heavy, high stakes conversations happening behind the closed doors of the Rosier manor. Out here, the world just kept turning. People were falling in love, getting their hearts broken, and laughing under the warm Parisian sun.
The shop assistant returned, clearing his throat gently. "The Zéphyr Noir is packaged and ready for the owl post, Mademoiselle. We have reinforced the wrapping with a light featherweight charm so the owl will have no trouble making the journey across the channel."
"Perfect, thank you," Fila replied, sliding a few gold coins across the smooth counter.
She took a deep breath, collecting her heavy shopping bags. Despite the beautiful day, a restless energy was buzzing right beneath her skin. Vinda's silence on Evan's mission was definitely meant to keep her from worrying, but it was having the exact opposite effect.
Leaving the quiet, cedar scented shop, she stepped back out onto the limestone street.
The afternoon was fading into a warm, honey colored evening. Street performers were starting to set up near the central fountain, their magic creating dazzling, harmless sparks that danced in the air to entertain a growing crowd.
Fila took a deep breath, shifting the weight of her heavy shopping bags. The rest of the gifts were shrunk down and tucked into her pockets, but she had decided to carry the broom's shipping documents and a smaller bag of French pastries she had grabbed on a whim.
She began walking aimlessly, letting her eyes wander over the intricate, wrought iron balconies and open air cafes. She didn't really want to go back to the museum like quiet of the library just yet.
Lost in her thoughts about Evan and the strange, chilling conversation she had intercepted through the lavender roots, Fila turned a corner near a high end apothecary.
She didn't see the other girl until it was too late.
Oof!
Fila collided straight into someone. Her bag of pastries slipped from her fingers, tumbling to the clean limestone ground.
"Oh, pardon!" a silvery, musical voice exclaimed.
Fila looked up, slightly dazed. Standing before her was a young woman who looked to be a few years older than her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with long, sheet like falls of silvery blonde hair that fell past her waist and large, deep blue eyes. There was a faint, ethereal glow about her that seemed to naturally draw the eye of every passerby on the street.
The girl immediately knelt down, her quick reflexes saving the bag of pastries before the contents could spill out onto the street.
"I am so sorry, I was not looking where I was going," the girl said, her French accent thick but incredibly elegant. She stood back up with perfect poise and handed the bag back to Fila with a polite, dazzling smile. "I hope nothing is ruined?"
Fila blinked, momentarily struck by the girl's sheer presence. She had met a lot of pureblood aristocrats in the last few weeks at the Rosier manor, but this girl had an effortless, almost magical magnetism to her.
"No, it's fine! Thank you," Fila smiled, taking the bag back. "I was a bit spaced out myself."
The silver blonde girl tilted her head slightly, her sharp blue eyes assessing Fila with polite curiosity. Her gaze lingered for a second on the expensive, custom sealing wax on the parchment protruding from Fila's shopping bag, recognizing the emblem of the French Ministry's high security division.
"You are not from around here, are you?" the girl asked, her smile turning a bit more genuine and warm. "Your accent is lovely, but it has a bit of a American tilt."
"I am just visiting family for the summer," Fila replied easily, keeping her cover smooth. "I am Ophelia."
"A pleasure, Ophelia. I am Fleur. Fleur Delacour," the girl introduced herself, extending a slender hand. "If you are looking for more shops that are not tourist traps, you must try the street just behind the fountain. The quality is much better."
"I am actually looking for some good shops," Fila admitted, returning the handshake. "And I could definitely use a break from carrying all of these. Would you want to grab a coffee? Or maybe a pastry?" She gestured to the bag Fleur had just rescued. "I have a feeling these are good, but a local opinion would be a lifesaver."
Fleur's smile widened, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Ah, magnifique. I was just about to find a cafe myself. Let us go to Le Miroir. It is close, and they have the best iced coffee in the district."
The two girls walked together, weaving through the lively evening crowd. Fleur naturally commanded attention wherever she went, but she seemed entirely used to it, holding her head high and chatting easily.
Once they were settled at a small, circular table with wrought iron chairs, sipping on cold drinks and sharing the pastries, the conversation flowed naturally.
"So, Ophelia," Fleur began, resting her chin in her hands. "You are visiting family here, but where do you normally go to school?"
Fila took a sip of her drink, feeling the cool liquid soothe the buzzing energy in her chest. "Well, I actually go to school across the Atlantic, at Ilvermorny in America. But... my family actually suggested that I transfer here, to France. They want me to attend Beauxbatons."
Fleur's eyes lit up with sudden, intense pride. "Beauxbatons! Ah, that is my school! I am just a few years into my studies there, but it is far superior to any school across the ocean, I am sure."
Fila let out a soft laugh, resting her chin in her hand. "I have heard it is beautiful. But I am just so torn. All my friends are back at Ilvermorny. June, Calla, Miles, Theo... But here, things are different. My family is here, and I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder as much." She thought about the rogue Aurors and the chilling voice in the roots, but kept those details to herself.
"Ah, the pull of family is strong," Fleur agreed, her tone turning surprisingly soft and understanding. "But Beauxbatons is not just a school, it is a palace. The gardens are breathtaking, the food is divine, and we do not have poltergeists causing chaos in the corridors. It is highly refined. And," she added with a cheeky wink, "the uniforms are much more fashionable."
"I can imagine," Fila grinned. "My current school uniform is blue and cranberry with a gold Gordian Knot. It is actually quite nice, but I have a feeling your style is on another level."
"Blue and cranberry? Interesting colors," Fleur hummed, tapping her chin before nodding. "But no, at Beauxbatons, we wear fine blue silk. It is very light and elegant."
They talked for a long time, drifting from the topic of schools to just normal things. Fleur complained about her younger sister, Gabrielle, who was always trying to steal her hair accessories, and Fila shared stories about how her uncle Evan had recently blasted her off a dueling platform.
"He did what?" Fleur asked, horrified and amused. "And your family just lets him do this?"
"They encourage it!" Fila laughed. "Apparently, it is the 'family way' to build walls no one else can climb."
After finishing their drinks, Fleur insisted on showing Fila the best hidden spots in the district. They spent the next couple of hours wandering in and out of boutique shops. Fleur helped Fila pick out a gorgeous, deep blue hair ribbon that perfectly matched her eyes, and Fila helped Fleur pick out a set of rare, crystal potion vials that changed color depending on the temperature of the liquid inside.
By the time the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of pink and orange, Fila felt lighter than she had in days. There were no dark lords, no tracking spells, and no heavy expectations. Just two girls shopping and laughing in Paris.
As they stood near the fountain where they had first collided, Fleur turned to her.
"I must get going, Ophelia. My mother is expecting me for dinner. But promise me you will think about Beauxbatons! I would love to have a friend like you at the palace."
"I promise, I am definitely considering it," Fila smiled warmly. "Thank you for today, Fleur. It was really fun."
"The pleasure was mine," Fleur said, giving her a quick double air kiss on the cheeks in the traditional French way before waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd.
Fila stood there for a moment, the warm July breeze rustling her hair. She picked up her shopping bags, feeling a genuine sense of peace.
As she walked the Rosier manor came closer and closer. And as she walked in she met her grandmother who stood in by the entrance.
"You look happy, did something good happen?" Vinda asked.
Fila smiled back. "I think I met a new friend."
Vinda's eyes softened, a look of genuine pleasure warming her usually sharp features. She stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on Fila's shoulder.
"That is wonderful to hear, Ophelia," Vinda said, her voice rich with a quiet satisfaction. "True friendships are rare, especially for children of our standing. You must invite her to the manor sometime soon."
Fila nodded, the heavy shopping bags suddenly feeling light. "I think I might. Her name is Fleur Delacour. She goes to Beauxbatons."
The name seemed to spark a flicker of recognition in Vinda's eyes, and she gave a small, knowing nod. "Ah, the Delacours. A highly respectable family. You have excellent taste in friends,"
Vinda gestured for Fila to walk with her toward the main living area. "But come, let us put those heavy bags down. Evan has returned from his... errands. He is waiting in the small drawing room, and I believe he has some news regarding the security measures he took."
Fila felt a tiny prickle of that familiar anxiety return, but the warm afterglow of her afternoon with Fleur helped keep it anchored. She wanted to know what Evan had found, but a part of her also just wanted to hold onto this rare moment of feeling like a normal teenage girl.
Fila set her shopping bags down on a side table and followed Vinda into the small drawing room.
Evan was lounging on one of the green velvet armchairs, swirling a glass of dark liquid. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his crisp black dress shirt, looking much more relaxed than he had a few days ago.
"Well, if it isn't the Parisian shopper," Evan remarked, offering a warm smile as Fila walked in. "I see you didn't hold back. Did you leave any gold left in the vaults for the rest of us?"
"Just a few coins," Fila joked, claiming a spot on the plush sofa opposite him. "I had to make sure the French economy is doing well."
Evan chuckled, setting his glass down on the mahogany side table. "Good to know. And Mother tells me you made a friend today? A Delacour?"
"I did. Fleur," Fila said, her smile lingering. "She was really nice. She even tried to convince me to transfer to Beauxbatons."
"A formidable advocate, I am sure," Evan smiled. Then, his expression smoothed into a calm, matter of fact look. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Speaking of people trying to track you down, I wrapped up that little project we discussed."
Fila's heart did a tiny, familiar flutter, but Evan's casual, relaxed posture helped keep her calm.
"The rogue Aurors?" Fila asked, her voice steady.
"Precisely," Evan replied, nodding smoothly. "As it turns out, your ears in the lavender patch were spot on. A few British wizards did indeed cross the channel without filing the proper paperwork. Terribly rude of them."
"What happened?"
"Oh, nothing for you to lose sleep over, Little Flower," Evan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We simply had a polite conversation with them at the border. I made it very clear that the French Ministry considers you a protected citizen, and that any further uninvited visits would be viewed as a rather serious breach of international etiquette."
Fila gave him an eye that told a lot without saying it.
"alright, we gave them a good beating and they are on route to be imprisoned." He tried this approach, but it didn't work. "Alright we killed them." he said plainly.
After this both Evan and Vinda watched Ophelia for shift in feeling or expression, but nothing changed.
"Good," she said as she started digging out things from her shopping bags.
Vinda and Evan looked at each other and Evan gave a short shrug.
Evan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He held Vinda's gaze for a long, silent second, a slow, impressed grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Vinda, for her part, didn't smile, but a glint of intense, fierce pride flickered in her sharp eyes as she looked back at her granddaughter.
The terrified girl from Nurmengard was truly gone. This was Ophelia Rosier Grindelwald, and she didn't blink at the cost of her own safety.
"Well," Evan said, leaning back with a chuckle that sounded genuinely delighted. "That settles that. I like this version of you, Little Flower. Practical."
"Very practical," Vinda agreed smoothly, her voice laced with approval. "You have the family steel in you, Ophelia. Never apologize for protecting what is yours."
Fila didn't look up from her bags, pushing aside a stack of parchment to pull out the delicate, silver hair comb she had bought for Calla. "I am not apologizing. They came here to hunt me. They didn't come to talk." She inspected the silver petals, running a finger over the smooth metal. "If they wanted a polite conversation, they should have sent an owl."
Evan let out a barking laugh, slapping his knee. "Spoken like a true Rosier! Merlin, I cannot wait for you to meet Lucien. You are going to absolutely terrify him."
But underneath Fila was actually scared. The training had done wonders yes. But as to what she was truly feeling, another story altogether. But learning to control this would help her in the future she told herself over and over again.
Fila finally looked up, offering a small, calm smile before holding up a wrapped box of French pastries. "Now, as I was saying before you tried to lie to me about borders and paperwork, Uncle Evan. Are we going to eat these, or am I going to have to defend them with magic?"
"Bring them here," Evan grinned, waving her over. "After a day of dealing with uninvited guests, I think I have earned at least two of whatever is in that box."
Dinner that night was a much lighter affair than it had any right to be, given the conversation that had just taken place. They sat in the smaller, more intimate dining room, laughing as Evan recounted stories of his children's chaotic antics during previous summers. For the first time since arriving in France, the massive manor didn't feel like a gilded cage. It felt like a fortress. And Fila was the one holding the keys.
Later that evening, the heavy adrenaline of the day finally began to fade, leaving her with a pleasant, sleepy sort of exhaustion. She excused herself and headed up the grand, sweeping staircase to her bedroom.
She set her remaining shopping bags on her desk and sat down, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment and her self inking quill toward her. It was finally time to write back.
She looked out her open balcony doors at the dark, starry Parisian sky. The scent of night jasmine was still heavy in the air.
Dear June, Calla, Miles, Elliot and Theo, she began to write, her quill scratching softly against the parchment. You will never believe the summer I am having...