The Office
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I wanted to meet,” I start, pacing around the room of requirement as Draco and the trio stare at me. “Well, I wanted you all to know that I’m going to France to rifle through Monsieur LeBlanc’s office to try and find anything related to my parents.”
Hermione is the first to chime in. “That’s incredibly stupid. Surely you don’t think it will be that easy to access a legal office.”
“I never said it would be easy,” I counter, pulling the business card out of my pocket and placing it in the middle of the table. “But when I spoke to Francis he conveniently let this fall out of his pocket. I think he wants me to go looking for something, he just can’t say what.”
Draco arches an eyebrow. “Right. Because every pureblood lawyer is just begging for a school student to go rifling through their things.”
I crinkle my nose at him. “Shut up.”
“He’s probably right,” Harry adds. “I can only imagine how many anti-theft and disillusionment charms there must be on his office. Not to mention the wards. You’ll never get through them.”
“Ah,” I reply, tucking my wand into my hair. “That’s where you’re wrong. Wards are made stronger by personal ties to the magic. I’m willing to bet he’s tied a lot of it to his family—and luckily for me, Aury knows how to get through them.”
Draco groans as he buries his face in his hand. “Again? Seriously? Is there no one else who can help you?”
“I don’t know,” I retort, “unless Ron has some intimate knowledge of Paris I’m not aware of.”
“Hey! Don’t bring me into your lover’s quarrel,” Ron whines, crossing his arms.
Draco immediately sits up, his eyes narrowing. “It’s not a lover’s quarrel, Weasley. Don’t make it sound like—”
“Oh, but it sounds like one,” Hermione interrupts with a smirk, leaning back in her chair. “And frankly, this is a terrible idea. No offense, but you’re all woefully underprepared for this.”
“It’s not like I’m asking any of you to come with me,” I snap, crossing my arms. “I just thought you’d like to know where I’m going.”
“You thought wrong,” Harry says firmly, standing up from his chair. “You’re not doing this alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” I argue. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’ve never done something risky before.”
“But this is different,” Hermione cuts in. “Breaking into a French legal office? You’re talking about going up against some of the most powerful magical protections. Even with Aurélien’s help, you’ll need backup.”
Draco scoffs, his arms crossed. “Backup? What, the dream team thinks they’re qualified to storm a high-security office in Paris? Please. You’ll just make things worse.”
“Right,” Harry snaps, glaring at Draco. “Because you’re such an expert.”
“At least I have common sense!” Draco fires back. “She doesn’t need the lot of you tagging along and blowing her cover.”
“You’re just mad because Aurélien will be there,” Ron mutters under his breath, earning a glare from Draco.
“Excuse me?” Draco’s voice is ice-cold, but Ron doesn’t back down.
“You heard me. Maybe instead of criticizing us, you should admit you’re jealous of him.”
“I am not jealous of some pompous, overconfident French idiot!” Draco retorts, his face flushing.
“Sure you’re not,” I mutter under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Can we focus, please?”
But they’re already bickering again, and Hermione sighs loudly. “Enough! If we’re all going, we need a plan. Whether we like it or not, Y/n is determined to do this, and I, for one, would prefer she doesn’t get herself killed.”
“I didn’t ask you all to come,” I say through gritted teeth. “This isn’t your fight.”
“We’re making it our fight,” Harry insists. “You’d do the same for any of us.”
I groan, realizing there’s no talking them out of it. “Fine,” I concede. “But if you’re coming, you’re doing things my way. No improvising, no heroics.”
“Great,” Ron says, grinning. “So when do we leave?”
Draco looks like he’s about to object, but I cut him off with a pointed look. “Don’t even start.”
He exhales sharply and leans back in his chair. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Only if you make it one,” I reply, picking up the business card and tucking it back into my pocket. “Now, let’s get to work. Aurélien’s family has dinner once a week. Twice if they’re feeling affectionate. Thankfully, since I crashed their dinner on Monday, they’re having another one this Friday.”
“And how do you know this?” Hermione questions, raising a brow.
I pull out a stack of letters between myself and Aury, dropping them on the table. “Because Aury told me so. His other uncle—the one you all met—is going to fake an injury and ask his parents if he can help him with some tasks around his store that night so he can come with me. Well, us now, technically.”
Draco stares at the stack of letters, his lips thinning into a sharp line. “Of course. Conveniently, the perfect family dinner scenario. And how, exactly, does this dinner help us get into LeBlanc’s office?”
“Simple,” I reply, ignoring the sarcasm in his tone. “Francis will be there all night. Aury’s family is really sweet, but they can go on for hours even after their dinner is finished. He’ll be preoccupied, which means his office will be empty.”
Harry frowns, catching on quickly. “So we’re just going to walk in the front door?”
“We’re not walking in the shop. We’re going under it,” I correct, smirking. “Aury’s family has a way into an old Parisian tunnel system. Most of the buildings in that area use it for storage, but Francis? He uses it to move certain… sensitive documents when he doesn’t want to risk apparating with them.”
Hermione narrows her eyes. “And you’re absolutely sure of this?”
“Aury mapped it all out,” I say, sliding a hand-drawn layout from the letters and spreading it on the table. “He’s been through the tunnels before. One passage runs straight under the legal office.”
“And these tunnels just happen to be unguarded?” Draco asks skeptically, leaning forward to study the map.
“Not unguarded,” I admit. “But manageable. Aury says there are only a few basic wards near the office’s entrance, and we’ll be able to handle them—if we’re careful.”
Hermione leans over the map, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It’s risky. Even if we bypass the wards, there’s no telling how secure the actual office is.”
“Which is why we’re only taking what we need,” I explain. “We’re looking for anything tied to my parents or the Lavigné name. We grab it and leave—no unnecessary risks.”
“And if we get caught?” Harry presses.
“We won’t,” I insist, though the faintest flicker of doubt lingers in my voice. “If we stick to the plan, no one will even know we were there.”
Draco snorts. “Famous last words.”
I glare at him, but before I can respond, Ron interjects. “So, let me get this straight. We’re sneaking into some creepy old tunnels, breaking into a highly secure office, and relying on Aurélien to guide us through all of it?”
“Pretty much,” I reply, crossing my arms. “You can stay here if you want.”
“Not a chance,” Ron says quickly, glancing at Hermione. “If you’re going, we’re all going.”
“I still think this is reckless,” Hermione mutters, but she doesn’t argue further, instead tracing a path on the map with her finger. “We’ll need to practice disabling wards before Friday. If there are any surprises, we’ll need to be ready.”
“Great,” I say, already feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s meet here tomorrow night to prepare. Bring everything you’ll need—wands, cloaks, and, for Merlin’s sake, a sense of discretion.”
Draco folds his arms and leans back, his expression unreadable. “You’re putting a lot of faith in this French idiot.”
“His name is Aurélien,” I snap, “and he’s the only reason this plan is even possible. So maybe try being grateful for once.”
Draco’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. Instead, he pushes his chair back and stands. “Fine. But when this all inevitably goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
With that, he walks out, leaving the rest of us in tense silence.
“He’s impossible,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“He’s smitten,” Hermione corrects me, earning entertained smirks from the boys.
Harry leans forward. “And jealous.”
“Big time,” Ron adds, chuckling to himself.
I groan, waving my hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Draco Malfoy? Jealous of Aurélien? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it, though?” Hermione counters, raising an eyebrow. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at those letters. He couldn’t decide whether to scowl or burn them.”
Harry grins. “And don’t forget how he bristles every time you bring up Aurélien. It’s like clockwork.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, standing and gathering the map and letters. “We have more important things to focus on. Like not dying in a French legal office. Let’s meet here tomorrow night to go over the plan and practice disabling wards. Bring everything you’ll need—and try to leave the jokes about Draco at home.”
Ron grins, standing as well. “No promises.”
~
By Thursday evening, the tension from earlier in the week has faded—at least a little. After our last classes, we all file back into the Room of Requirement, which has transformed into a dark, cavernous space lined with enchanted barriers and illusionary traps for us to practice on.
Hermione is already examining the wards as I set my things down. “These are some clever enchantments. Whoever programmed this room knew what they were doing.”
Draco arrives shortly after, his face unreadable as usual. He surveys the room and crosses his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Do we just throw ourselves at these wards and hope for the best?”
“No,” Hermione says, rolling her eyes. “We approach this systematically. I’ll explain the basic structure of the enchantments, and we’ll take turns dismantling them.”
“Great,” Draco mutters, leaning against the wall. “I’ll let the experts go first.”
I glare at him. “You’re here to help, not just stand there and look annoyed.”
“I’m plenty helpful,” he replies, smirking slightly. “I’m just waiting for you lot to show me something I don’t already know.”
“Then pay attention,” Hermione snaps, stepping forward. “These wards are meant to repel intruders by triggering alarms and locking the door. But they’re fragile—if you disrupt the magical flow here”—she gestures to a faint shimmer in the air—“you can deactivate them without activating the alarms.”
She demonstrates, her wand moving in precise, fluid motions. The shimmer flickers and vanishes. “Simple. Now, who’s next?”
Harry steps up first, managing to disarm the next ward with minimal effort. Ron takes a bit longer, muttering curses under his breath when his wandwork falters, but he eventually gets it.
When it’s Draco’s turn, he moves forward with his usual confidence. His movements are sharp but effective, and he disables the ward with ease. He glances back at me smugly. “Satisfied?”
“Barely,” I reply, stepping up to take my turn. The room goes quiet as I focus on the enchantment, my wand tracing delicate lines in the air. The ward dissolves without resistance, and I straighten, turning to face the group. “Your turn, Hermione. Let’s set up something more complicated.”
Draco raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I didn’t realize this was a competition.”
“It’s not,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “It’s preparation. If you’d rather sulk, feel free to leave.”
“Not a chance,” he retorts, moving to reset the ward himself. “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see how badly this goes.”
I roll my eyes. “Ever the optimist.”
We take turns setting up and dismantling several different types of wards, each one more complicated than the last. Hermione hardly struggles, Draco sets off an alarm twice but fixes it quickly, and the other two boys—well, let's just say they won't be on the front lines for this one.
When it cycles back around to me, I take the opportunity to try to dismantle it wandlessly. It’s a lot trickier than I thought it would be, but the wandless magic seems to prove slightly more effective against the more complex wards.
Draco raises an eyebrow as he watches me work. “Show-off,” he mutters, though there’s a flicker of intrigue in his expression.
I smirk, focusing on the swirling tendrils of magic in front of me. Wandless magic requires more concentration—an intricate dance of will and precision. My fingers twitch subtly as I direct the energy, nudging the ward’s magic apart. The shimmer fades with a faint ripple, and I step back, exhaling sharply.
“Not bad,” Hermione says, her tone equal parts impressed and analytical. “It makes sense that wandless magic would have a unique effect on the wards. They’re designed to counter spells cast with wands, after all.”
Draco scoffs, though his voice carries an undercurrent of something like grudging respect. “Or she’s just trying to make the rest of us look bad.”
“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” I reply, flashing him a sly grin. “You do a great job of that all on your own.”
Ron snickers, but Harry nudges him to focus as Hermione resets the next ward. “We’re burning daylight here,” she reminds us. “We need everyone at least passable with these. If something goes wrong, we’ll all need to pull our weight.”
“Except for you two,” Draco says, gesturing to Harry and Ron. “Just stick to lookout duty.”
“Oi!” Ron protests, glaring at him. “At least I’m not setting off alarms.”
“Yet,” Draco fires back.
“Enough,” Hermione snaps, silencing both of them with a sharp glare. “We don’t have time for this. Focus.”
Grudgingly, the boys fall back into line, and we press on. As the practice stretches into the evening, I find myself falling into a rhythm—analyzing, adjusting, and dismantling the wards with increasing confidence. The others improve too, though Draco continues to comment on everyone’s technique, particularly mine.
When we finally decide to call it a night, my muscles ache from the strain of concentrating for so long, but there’s a small sense of satisfaction as we pack up.
“We’ll meet tomorrow afternoon before we leave,” Hermione says, tucking the map into her bag. “Bring everything you need and double-check your equipment.”
Draco lingers near the door, watching me as I gather my things. “You’ve been holding out,” he says casually, his tone light but probing.
I glance at him, confused. “What are you on about now?”
“The wandless magic,” he replies, crossing his arms. “You’re better at it than you let on.”
I shrug, brushing past him. “I’ve been practicing here and there. On my own terms.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, concern coloring his features. “I thought you hated it.”
I nod. “Kind of. I hate training to use dark magic, yes. But I figure if something happens and I lose my wand, I better be able to handle basic spells, too. My parents just don’t care to teach me those.”
“Right,” he replies, laying a protective hand on my shoulder. “Just don’t push yourself too much, okay?”
I press my cheek to his hand for just a moment, smiling up at him. “I won’t.”
He smirks, moving his hand to tilt my chin up before planting a light kiss on my forehead. “Good. Can’t have anything happening to you, can we?”
That earns a genuine, blushy smile from me as he pulls away. “No, I suppose not.”
He smirks before we part ways, with everyone else heading back to their respective dorms. Me, on the other hand? I have to go meet with Professor Snape.
We have a standing schedule: Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet him at nine in the evening, and Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I meet him before class in the mornings. He’s very demanding, but so far, he hasn’t done anything I’d consider to be too suspicious.
Actually, our meetings have been somewhat tedious and boring. I’m usually either helping him grade samples or he asks me to brew something new and much more complicated than what we do in class. So far, though, I haven’t faltered.
The castle is relatively quiet this late, save for the occasional conversations I overhear between the portraits in the halls. As I make my way to his office, I notice his door is ajar, and that sickly sweet licorice scent wafts out.
I knock on the door twice. “Professor?”
“Enter,” he says, his tone bored.
I step into Snape’s office, the air thick with the sharp tang of brewing potions. He’s seated behind his desk, quill in hand, meticulously marking up a student’s essay. Without looking up, he gestures toward the workbench in the corner.
“You’re late.”
I glance at the clock. “I’m two minutes early.”
“Two minutes you could have spent preparing your station,” he says curtly. “Do not waste my time.”
I bite back a retort and start to do as he says. “Yes, sir.”
I set my bag on the table and begin pulling out the necessary supplies. As I reach for a set of scales, a book I picked up from the library on wards slips out and lands with a dull thud on the stone floor.
Snape’s sharp eyes snap up from the parchment. His gaze flicks to the book, then to me, his expression unreadable. “Studying extracurriculars, are we?”
I quickly scoop up the book, clutching it to my chest. “It’s for Charms,” I say, willing my voice to sound steady. “Just brushing up.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Charms, you say. And yet, unless Flitwick has dramatically altered his curriculum, I doubt advanced warding techniques are part of his syllabus.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off with a flick of his hand. “Spare me your excuses.”
Hesitantly, I set the book down on the desk as he strides over, his robes billowing behind him. He picks up the book, flipping through its pages with a practiced eye. “These wards are far beyond the standard fare. Why, exactly, are you studying them?”
I hesitate, searching for a plausible explanation. “I… I wanted to challenge myself. I thought it might help me in do better in Charms if I understood how these spells function.”
Snape’s lips press into a thin line. “Foolish,” he mutters, though there’s a faint glimmer of intrigue in his expression. He closes the book with a snap and places it back on the table. “If you’re going to dabble in advanced magic, you should at least do it correctly.”
I blink, startled. “You’re not… going to confiscate it?”
He fixes me with a withering stare. “Confiscate it? No. Supervise your use of it? Absolutely. If you intend to waste your time with this, I won’t have you making a spectacle of yourself or, worse, causing irreparable harm. Stand.”
I scramble to my feet as he draws his wand, a spell already forming on his lips. With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering ward appears in the air between us. It hums faintly, radiating with layered complexities.
“Dismantle it,” he orders.
I glance at the ward, then back at him. “Now?”
“Do you have somewhere more pressing to be?” he asks dryly. “Begin.”
Taking a steadying breath, I raise my wand and focus on the intricate web of magic before me. I start with the outermost layer, probing it cautiously. Snape watches silently, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.
The first layer gives way after a few attempts, and I move to the second. This one resists more stubbornly, and I feel my confidence waver.
“Stop hesitating,” Snape snaps. “You’re overthinking it. Trust your instincts.”
Gritting my teeth, I press on, channeling my concentration. Bit by bit, the ward unravels until, finally, it dissolves into faint wisps of light. I lower my wand, exhaling heavily.
Snape studies me for a moment, then nods. “Adequate. Again.”
We repeat the exercise several more times, each ward he conjures more complex than the last. At some point, he mutters something about my technique and demonstrates how to approach the layers more efficiently. Despite his sharp tone, there’s a certain precision to his guidance that makes the process feel less daunting.
When we finish, my head is spinning from the effort, but I can’t deny the small flicker of pride in my chest.
Snape regards me with his usual inscrutable expression. “You show potential,” he admits grudgingly. “But potential is worthless without discipline. Do not let your ambition outpace your ability.”
I nod, tucking the book back into my bag. “Thank you, Professor.”
“Don’t thank me, just do better than you have been. As your mentor, your skills are a reflection of my teaching abilities.” He pulls his wand out once more, throwing up one last ward with an air of feigned indifference about him. He gestures to it wordlessly.
I exhale sharply, studying the ward and testing the edges with my wand before he cuts me off. “No wand.”
I turn to face him with a confused expression. “Sir, you want me to—”
“I’ve seen you do far more… advanced magic without your wand, if you recall. Surely you can dismantle a simple ward.”
His words catch me off guard as he so casually brings up the death eater meeting once more, making me squirm under his gaze. Rather than argue with him, I just tuck my wand away, then take a steadying breath before raising my hands, letting the magic start to flow towards my palms.
Despite how tired I am, the magic of the ward gives a little easier at my fingertips, which only solidifies my theory that wandless magic is more effective on complicated wards.
Snape watches me with an unreadable expression, his sharp eyes flicking between my hands and the ward as I work. The tension in the air is palpable, but I force myself to block out the weight of his scrutiny, focusing entirely on the intricate layers of magic before me.
The first layer falls away with a slight shimmer, followed by the second, though it resists a little more. My palms tingle with the flow of energy as I trace the threads of the ward’s magic, coaxing it to unravel. By the time I reach the third layer, I can feel beads of sweat forming on my brow, but the ward pulses faintly in response, yielding to my efforts.
Finally, the last thread of magic dissipates, leaving the air still. I lower my hands, exhaling deeply as the exhaustion settles over me. My head feels like it’s spinning again, but the sense of accomplishment outweighs the fatigue.
Snape tilts his head slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line that might almost—almost—be mistaken for approval. “Not entirely hopeless,” he remarks, his tone clipped but not unkind. “Though I suspect you’ve been practicing this far longer than you’re letting on.”
I shake my head, wiping my palms on my robes. “Not really, sir. Just… when I can.”
“Hmph.” He eyes me critically, then crosses his arms. “You’re fortunate your instincts compensate for your lack of formal training. However, instinct can only take you so far. You’ll need discipline if you want to master this properly.”
“Yes, Professor,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “I understand.”
“Good.” He steps closer, his gaze narrowing. “And one more thing—your ability to use wandless magic may set you apart, but it will also make you a target. Do not let your skill make you arrogant, nor should you flaunt it unnecessarily. There are eyes everywhere in this castle, some of which you may not even notice.”
The warning sends a shiver down my spine, but I nod. “Understood.”
Snape studies me for a moment longer, then moves his hair out of his face. “Have you been using the dreamless sleep potions nightly?”
Grateful for the change in subject, I tie my hair up and out of my way. “Yes, sir.”
“You should be almost out, then. You have the list of ingredients from last time, yes?”
I nod, turning to rifle through my bag and pulling out the parchment. He takes it from my hands without warning and incinerates it in front of my eyes.
“There. Now, recreate it from memory.”
My heart sinks as I watch the parchment turn to ash, vanishing before I can protest. I gape at Snape, but his expression remains as impassive as ever, giving nothing away.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, my voice tinged with disbelief. “What if I get it wrong? That potion is delicate—”
“Then you’ll learn the consequences of inadequate preparation,” he interrupts coolly. “A skilled witch should not rely on notes alone. You’ve brewed this before. Recreate it.”
My hands clench at my sides, but I know better than to argue. Swallowing my frustration, I turn to the cauldron on the workstation. The Dreamless Sleep Potion is one of the more intricate potions I’ve brewed, requiring careful timing and precise measurements, but I refuse to let him see me falter.
My first step is to make my way around the room, pulling the ingredients I need off the shelves. Once I think I have them all, I set them down in the order I remember.
I begin to work, slicing, crushing, and stirring with as much confidence as I can muster. The first few steps come easily enough, the motions vaguely familiar. But as the potion starts to simmer, I reach a step that feels hazy in my memory. My hand hesitates over the ingredients, the weight of Snape’s gaze making my skin crawl.
“Well?” he prompts, his tone as sharp as a knife. “You’re hesitating. Why?”
“I—” I bite back a retort, scanning the table again. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. “I’m not sure if the asphodel goes in now or after the moonstone dissolves.”
“Guesswork will ruin the potion,” he says, folding his arms. “Think, or abandon the attempt entirely.”
The cauldron emits a faint, earthy aroma, and instinctively, I lean closer to smell it. The scent is almost right, but it’s missing a faint sweetness I remember from the last time I brewed it. My mind races, and then it clicks.
“Valerian root,” I mutter to myself, casting a quick, “Accio,” to bring it over to me. I reach for the delicate strands and add a pinch to the mixture. The potion’s color shifts slightly, and a subtle sweetness rises from the cauldron, confirming my suspicion. My heart steadies as I continue, layering in the remaining ingredients with renewed focus.
When I finally add the powdered moonstone and extinguish the flame, the potion settles into a calm, lavender-hued liquid—the telltale sign of success.
Snape steps closer, peering into the cauldron with a critical eye. “Passable,” he says at last, though there’s a flicker of something in his expression—approval, perhaps? “Though you nearly ruined it. Your reliance on your sense of smell was fortuitous, but don’t expect luck to save you in the future.”
I nod, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Understood, sir.”
“Good.” He waves his wand, transferring the potion into several vials. “Take these. And next time, you will prepare it without any hesitation. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Professor.”
He steps back, his expression unreadable once more. “You may go. And remember: precision, not instinct, is what defines a master brewer. Dismissed.”
I gather the vials and my belongings, my head spinning from the evening’s challenges. As I step into the corridor, I can’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. Snape’s subtle approval may have been buried under layers of criticism, but it was there all the same.
I head back to the Hufflepuff dorms, armed with my secret to a peaceful night’s sleep and a much more practiced hand at dismantling wards. In the back of my mind, all I can wonder is why Professor Snape is being so… helpful.
~
When the big day rolls around, Draco and I refuse to leave each other’s sides for the simple fact that we’re both nervous about what we’re trying to pull. Obviously we can both feel it, but that damn sure doesn’t mean either of us will ever admit it.
The evening feels heavy with anticipation, the kind that curls in my stomach and refuses to loosen its grip. I meet Draco in the hall, his jaw set in that determined way that tells me he’s just as anxious as I am.
“Ready?” I ask, keeping my tone light despite the knot in my chest.
“Not particularly,” he replies, smoothing an invisible wrinkle on his sleeve. “But I doubt that matters, does it?”
We make our way to the Room of Requirement, where Hermione, Harry, and Ron are already waiting, huddled around a small, glowing map. The tension in the air is palpable, and for once, even Ron keeps his usual remarks to himself.
“We don’t have long,” Hermione says as soon as we enter. “The wards we’ve been practicing are straightforward enough, but I added a couple layered charms to test us.”
I nod, preparing to work through them. After my sessions with Snape, I’ve been able to dismantle wards and charms with a precision I didn’t know I was capable of. “Let’s get to it, then,” I reply, kneeling beside her to examine the first set of wards.
Draco crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “If she messes this up, I reserve the right to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“Oh, shut it, Malfoy,” Harry snaps, though there’s no real venom in his voice.
We all take turns tackling the layers of magic Hermione has set up, each working with a quiet intensity. When it’s my turn, I approach the ward carefully, drawing on the techniques Snape drilled into me. The strands of magic shimmer faintly, and I begin to unravel them, my fingers moving almost instinctively. It’s slower than I’d like, but with each layer I dismantle, the confidence I’ve been trying to build takes root.
“Not bad,” Draco mutters as I finish, though the slight raise of his brow tells me he’s more impressed than he lets on.
“High praise coming from you,” I shoot back, stepping aside to let him take his turn.
By the time we’ve cycled through the wards twice, everyone is exhausted but satisfied. Hermione nods approvingly. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be. Let’s not waste any more time.”
We all line up in front of the floo the Room of Requirement so kindly created for us, with Draco and I stepping in first. It spits us out into the front room of Le Bijou Caché, the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood immediately washing over us. I steady myself against Draco, the disorienting swirl of the journey making my stomach churn.
“Remind me to invent a better way to travel,” I grumble, brushing soot off my robes.
Draco smirks faintly but doesn’t reply, his hand lingering at my elbow as we step into the shop. The vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers glimmer in the warm light, but the grandeur does little to distract me from my nerves.
Ron and Hermione appear behind us, followed soon after by Harry, with all three of them looking as nervous as I feel. Aurélien is already waiting for us in the foyer, his arms crossed and a crooked smile on his face. “About time,” he teases, his accent lilting as he looks me over. “You brought the whole group, I see.”
“You’re lucky I came at all,” Draco snaps, eyeing Aurélien with thinly veiled disdain.
Aurélien only laughs, his gaze flicking to me. “And you, ma chère? Ready to stir up some trouble?”
“Always,” I reply, trying to match his confidence. But when Draco shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, I’m grateful for the unspoken support.
We all huddle around Aurélien, the body heat making me tense as I offer the business card to him. He glances at it quickly before handing it back to me. “Mon soleil, I don’t need this. I know exactly where it is.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, offering him a tight smile. “Good. What’s the plan?”
Aurélien leans against a nearby display case, his posture casual, but his sharp gaze betrays the weight of the situation. “There’s an old escape route underground from before the statute of secrecy was solidified. Smugglers and thieves used it centuries ago. Now, my uncle uses it to get his documents around without detection.” His grin widens. “Convenient for us, no?”
I nod, running a hand through my hair. “I told them about that part, yes.”
“How heavily warded is the entrance to the tunnel?” Harry asks, already deep in thought.
“It used to be fairly simple, but now it’s warded to the teeth.” Aurélien glances at me. “That’s where your wandless magic will come in handy, ma chère. The entrance isn’t impossible, but it’s designed to repel most conventional attempts to break through.”
I stiffen slightly under the sudden attention but nod. “I can handle it.”
Draco speaks up, his tone clipped. “What happens when we’re inside?”
“Once we’re in, it’s a matter of dismantling the layers of security they’ve set up,” Aurélien explains. “The office has wards meant to alert the owner to intrusions, but with enough skill and coordination, we can neutralize them before they go off. That’s where all your practice comes in.”
“And what about getting back out?” Ron asks, his voice tight with concern.
Aurélien chuckles. “I’m not planning to leave you stranded, Weasley. I’ve prepared a secondary exit near the tunnel’s midpoint, just in case.” His expression grows serious. “But timing is everything. The longer we stay, the more likely someone will notice us. We’ll need to move fast.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Draco says dryly. “Break in, avoid detection, and get out before anyone realizes we’re there.”
Aurélien smirks. “Simple doesn’t mean easy, Monsieur. But if you’re as good as she claims”—he nods toward me—“we might just pull it off.”
Hermione straightens, her expression determined. “Then we stick to the plan. Everyone knows their role?”
We all nod, though my stomach churns at the thought of what’s ahead. Aurélien rolls up a map and tucks it into his coat, gesturing toward the door. “Then let’s not waste any more time. The tunnel entrance is just a few blocks from here.”
As we follow him out of the shop, I catch Draco’s eye. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by an expression I can’t quite place—some mix of apprehension and resolve. He falls into step beside me, his shoulder brushing mine again.
The streets of Paris are as beautiful as I remember, though it’s awfully cold considering we’re still in the throes of winter. I cast a wandless warming charm over the group, and they all murmur in appreciation.
We keep our heads down, not wanting to draw much attention to ourselves as we wind through alleys and duck behind buildings, making our way to the entrance Aury told us about. When we finally arrive, everyone turns to face me.
I can feel the weight of their expectations settling on my shoulders. The entrance to the tunnel is hidden behind a brick wall, worn and weathered by years of neglect. I step forward, trying to steady my breath. Aurélien’s words echo in my mind—this is where my skill will make or break us.
The wards surrounding the entrance are subtle, but I can feel their presence as soon as I approach. They’re designed to detect any magical disturbance, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to try and break through. I take a moment to steady myself, my fingers twitching with the familiar hum of magic.
“This might take a minute,” I mutter, but they don’t protest.
Draco steps closer, his presence grounding me. “Just be careful,” he says softly, his usual sarcasm absent. His voice, though quiet, carries a weight I can’t ignore.
I nod, and with a deep breath, I reach out with my senses, allowing the magic to flow from my palms. The wards are intricate, layers upon layers of protective spells, but they’re not impossible. I can feel the subtle patterns of the magic, the flow of energy. It’s like peeling back layers of a delicate, enchanted fabric.
The first ward is a detection charm, set to alert anyone in the vicinity of an intrusion. I pause, focusing on it, letting the magic move through me as I carefully pull at the strands. The charm trembles in response, resisting at first, but with a steadying exhale, I unwind it. The pressure lifts, and I feel the faintest shift in the air.
“One down,” I whisper, my heart racing as I move to the next.
The second ward is more complex, a mixture of elemental magic designed to trigger a violent reaction if disturbed. I can feel the heat radiating from it, the potential for danger. My hand hovers near the ward, and I take a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of concentration I can muster.
I don’t have the luxury of time. I press my palm to the air in front of me, the energy surging from my fingertips as I manipulate the elements, calming the fire and pushing the magic back. My body trembles from the strain, but I manage to break it apart, and the heat fades.
“Two,” I breathe out, wiping the sweat from my brow.
The third and final ward is the most difficult. It’s a locking charm, set to prevent any physical entry unless the correct incantation is spoken. But the trick is, I don’t need the incantation. I just need to undo the magic and rewrite it.
I reach out once more, feeling the cold barrier pressing against my skin. It’s almost as if it’s alive, and I can feel the hum of power beneath my fingertips. Slowly, carefully, I begin to unravel the enchantment, my mind focused on the delicate task. The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, but finally, with a sharp exhale, I release the last of the magic.
The air shifts again, and the final ward dissipates. I let out a shaky breath, standing up straighter as the path opens before us.
“We’re in,” I say, my voice hoarse but triumphant.
The group exhales collectively, but I can feel their eyes on me again—respect, admiration, but also something else. I glance at Draco, whose face remains unreadable, but I catch the faintest flicker of affection in his eyes.
“Nice work,” Hermione says quietly, her approval clear.
Aurélien moves toward the entrance, sliding the brick aside to reveal the narrow tunnel beyond. “Let’s keep moving. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
With one last glance at the group, I step forward, leading the way into the darkness of the tunnel. I can still feel the remnants of the wards lingering in the air as I work my way down each rung of the ladder below me, eventually stepping off into a thin layer of rainwater on the concrete floor.
The group follows me closely, each person stepping down with a small splash until Aury closes the entrance once more, leaving us essentially trapped down here should we fail to make it through the wards.
Failure is not an option.
After casting a quick, “Lumos,” I look out to see an intricate labyrinth of interconnected tunnels, all leading different directions. I can only assume we’re at one of many entrances as Aurélien pulls out a map and heads to the front of the group.
The damp, musty air of the tunnel wraps around us, and I can feel the weight of the task ahead bearing down on me. The sound of water dripping from the stone walls echoes in the otherwise eerie silence. Aurélien studies the map for a moment before turning to face us.
“Alright,” he says, his voice low but steady, “we need to stick to the plan. The wards in the office building are tricky, and we have to move quickly through this maze. Every second counts.”
I nod, glancing back at Draco, who’s walking just behind me, his footsteps light but purposeful. His presence is a silent reassurance in the chaos of the situation, but I can sense the tension radiating off him, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a palpable urgency.
The tunnels twist and turn, their narrowness adding to the sense of claustrophobia. We pass several side corridors, but Aurélien directs us unerringly forward, his map guiding us as though he’s memorized every inch of this underground network.
Suddenly, a low hum vibrates through the floor beneath our feet, and I pause, holding up a hand to signal the group to stop. Draco’s gaze flicks around, alert, his hand instinctively moving toward his wand.
“That’s a magical detection ward,” Aurélien says softly, lowering his voice. “It’ll alert anyone nearby that we’ve entered. We need to neutralize it before we can proceed.”
Hermione steps forward, already pulling out a vial of a potion from her bag. “I’ve got this,” she mutters, uncorking the bottle and spilling a few drops of the shimmering liquid onto the floor. The potion creates a small, glowing barrier that temporarily muffles any magical signatures.
The hum fades as the ward is suppressed, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Very clever, Hermione.”
“We’ve still got a long way to go,” she replies, giving me a pointed look. “Let’s not get too comfortable.”
I smirk, nodding in agreement as we continue onward, though the tension in my stomach tightens with each step.
As we move deeper into the labyrinth, we encounter more obstacles. The tunnels are rigged with various charms and traps—blinding flashes of light, sudden bursts of sound, and gusts of wind that threaten to knock us off balance. It’s a nerve-wracking journey, but with each challenge we face, we grow more in sync. Ron disables a series of pressure-sensitive floor tiles, and Harry is quick to spot a snare charm set to trigger if anyone steps in the wrong spot.
We reach a narrow passage that looks like it leads straight into the heart of the building. The air is colder here, and I can almost feel the presence of the wards beyond. Aurélien pauses, studying the stone wall ahead. He turns to face us with a serious expression.
“This is it,” he says. “The wards on this door are nearly impenetrable. I can get us close, but after that, it’ll be up to you, ma chère.” He glances at me, his confidence unspoken but clear.
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m exhausted, but there’s no turning back now. The wards are strong, but I can sense the threads of magic pulling at the edges. I step forward, my hands raised, fingers tingling with the familiar pull of wandless magic.
As I focus, I feel Draco move to stand just behind me, his presence grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed. He quietly raises his wand, looking at me as if asking my permission to help. I nod tightly, turning back to the wall.
I begin to work, unraveling the wards with as much precision as I can muster. The magic is resistant, thrumming with a heavy, oppressive energy, but it gives slightly under my touch. Each layer is like a puzzle, and as I dismantle it piece by piece, I feel a small sense of accomplishment. Draco pulls at different threads of the magic next to me, and we work in tandem to pull it apart.
But then, the wall shudders with an almost imperceptible hum, a pulse of magic that sends a chill through the air. A final, heavier ward flares up, pushing against me with all its might.
“Damn it!” I gasp, stumbling back slightly, as the ward’s resistance grows even stronger. The others fall into a tense silence, waiting for us to overcome it.
Draco’s hand briefly touches my shoulder, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve got this. Keep going.”
With renewed determination, I gather every ounce of focus I can. The final ward is stubborn, but it’s not invincible. Slowly, carefully, we start to unravel the threads of magic, pulling them apart one by one, until it finally breaks with a sharp cracking sound.
The wall before us rumbles and then slides open with a low creak, revealing the entrance to the office building.
“That’s our cue,” Aurélien says, his voice filled with quiet approval. “Let’s move.”
We slip through the opening, my pulse racing in my ears. As the last of us enters, the wall slides shut behind us, and we’re left in the shadowy silence of the legal office building.
I can feel the weight of the mission pressing down on us, but for now, we’ve made it through the first hurdle. The real test is just beginning.
“Okay,” I whisper, turning to face Aury, “where’s his office?”
He gestures for me to follow, and we pad down the hallway, holding our breath. Harry and Ron break off, standing with their backs against the wall on either side of the front door, ready to alert us should anyone try to come inside.
The rest of us keep walking behind Aurélien up a flight of stairs and down another corridor. Hermione opens the door to the file room across from his office, and we all start to dig.
Aurélien stays in the hallway between the two rooms, listening out for any signal from Harry and Ron downstairs. As Mione works through the file room, Draco and I start to open drawers and pull files off of shelves in Francis’ personal office, looking for any sign of correspondences with my family.
We come up with nothing for a few minutes, the only sound in the building being our breathing and the rustling of papers. Finally, as I look through one of his desk drawers, I notice something peculiar—a false bottom.
I pull out the piece of wood covering the secret compartment and my eyes go wide as I look through the stack of meticulously kept records. It holds details on the alliances, financial records and magical capabilities of some of the most well-known pureblood Wizarding families—including my own.
“Look at this,” I whisper shout to Draco, who’s at my side in an instant. “I had no idea Monsieur LeBlanc worked with so many of these families. Here’s mine, yours, a quarter of the Sacred Twenty-Eights and even a handful of pureblood French wizarding families. Do you have any idea what this means?”
Draco leans over my shoulder, his eyes scanning the records quickly, his breath catching as he recognizes some of the names. His fingers hover over the pages, a mix of disbelief and understanding flickering in his eyes. “This isn’t just business… this is power,” he murmurs. “He’s been keeping track of everything—the financial dealings, the allegiances… It’s all right here.”
I flip through a few more pages, my mind racing as I try to piece together the implications. “What’s worse is the alliances. LeBlanc was more than just a neutral party. He’s been helping organize connections between families—some of them tied directly to Voldemort’s supporters, and others—well, others we’ve never heard of. My family… It looks like we were more involved in all of this than we thought.”
Draco’s jaw tightens, and I can tell he’s piecing things together in his own way. “My family’s tangled up in this, too, I presume?”
I nod, feeling the weight of the revelation. “More than I realized. But there’s something else—this.” I pull out a piece of parchment that seems a little different from the rest. It’s a page from a legal document, one with a familiar name—Castor Lavigné.
I swallow hard as I read the text aloud. “It says that my father held a seat on the Conseil des Sorciers, the French governing body. He stepped down from his position a few years ago, but… I didn’t know about it. About any of this, actually.”
“What does this mean?” Draco asks, his voice quiet, the urgency of the situation creeping into his tone.
“I—I don’t know,” I reply, still staring at the document in disbelief. “I mean, it explains so much—why my family’s been acting strange, why they’ve been involved with the Death Eaters. But the Conseil des Sorciers… that’s not just some formality. It’s an incredibly powerful seat, Draco. If I had known… if I’d only known sooner…”
Draco places a hand on my arm, his touch grounding me. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We’ll figure it out together. But right now, we need to keep going. Don’t lose focus.”
I nod, still reeling from the revelation, but Draco’s words pull me back to the task at hand. We can’t afford to dwell on this now—not when there’s so much at stake.
But then, as I glance at another file I hadn’t noticed before, something catches my eye. The document is labeled “Lévèque de Noirval”—a surname I hadn’t expected to see here.
I pull the file open and skim through the pages. My breath hitches when I see a name that’s unfamiliar and alien to me: “Catherine Lévèque de Noirval.”
“What…?” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible as I scan further. The file contains information about her involvement in several high-profile magical transactions and her ties to ancient, powerful wizarding families. There are mentions of dark rituals and secrets kept within the family that I had no idea existed.
“Confidential Legal Document:
Subject: Catherine Lévèque de Noirval
File: Lévèque de Noirval – Case Number 54782
Date: 15th May, 1982
I. Personal Information:
Catherine Lévèque de Noirval, wife of Laurent Lévèque de Noirval and mother of Grace Lévèque de Noirval, holder of the fourth seat of international affairs on the Conseil des Sorciers.
II. Associations and Affiliations:
Catherine Lévèque de Noirval is known to hold longstanding alliances and mutual interests with the following prestigious and powerful families within the wizarding world:
Beaufort, Black, Charbonneau, Durand, DuPont, Lestrange, Malfoy, Moreau, and Nott
These connections have been influential in shaping her standing within both the French and broader European magical communities.
III. Assets:
1. Real Property:
- Château de Noirval, ancestral home located in the Loire Valley, France. This estate is protected by powerful wards and enchantments, ensuring its security and secrecy.
- La Maison de la Lune, an exclusive, privately-owned estate in Paris, used for high-profile gatherings and diplomatic meetings.
2. Magical Assets:
- Proprietary ownership of a collection of rare and ancient magical texts, primarily dealing with the Dark Arts, ritual magic, and ancestral wards. These texts are kept within the private vault of the Lévèque de Noirval family.
- Multiple enchanted artifacts passed down through generations, including a wand of extraordinary potency that has been passed down since the family’s founding.
IV. Legal Cases and Involvements:
1. Case #8321 – Gringotts Vault Dispute (1980):
Involved in a prolonged legal dispute over the inheritance of a Gringotts vault containing powerful, restricted magical artifacts. The dispute resulted in a favorable settlement for Catherine Lévèque de Noirval, securing fullownership of the vault and its contents, which include several cursed objects and potent artifacts.
2. Case #5010 – Dark Rituals Investigation (1976-1977):
Catherine was briefly involved in an investigation concerning her involvement with dark rituals during the period of unrest in the wizarding world. While the investigation never led to formal charges, her associations with various dark families, including the Lestranges and Malfoys, were scrutinized. However, her legal team successfully argued that her involvement was solely diplomatic and not of a personal nature.
3. Case #9283 – International Magical Trade Regulations (1979):
A pivotal case regarding the illegal exportation of enchanted objects and their trade across European borders. Catherine’s family business holdings, particularly her partnerships with the Beaufort, Moreau, and DuPont families, were brought into question during this case. Although the Lévèque de Noirval family was cleared of major involvement, Catherine faced personal scrutiny. The case’s final outcome resulted in revised regulations that favored her future business dealings and preserved her family’s standing in the international magical market.
4. Case #1187 – Conseil des Sorciers Constitutional Challenge (1981):
Catherine Lévèque de Noirval served as the defense representative in a constitutional challenge against a ruling by the Conseil des Sorciers. This case centered around the expansion of magical rights for non-pureblood families. Catherine was instrumental in influencing key votes and ensuring that the council’s decision did not infringe upon the magical laws that had been established to preserve the wizarding community’s purity.
V. Conclusions and Recommendations:
Catherine Lévèque de Noirval has maintained a position of considerable influence within both the French and broader wizarding societies through her strategic alliances and legal maneuvers. Her family’s assets remain intact and continue to grow, while her involvement in legal matters has generally worked in her favor, cementing her as a formidable force in the magical world.
Her influence on the Conseil des Sorciers has shaped policies, especially in matters of magical law and trade. However, her past dealings with dark families and potential associations with restricted magical practices remain a subject of interest to various parties. Further scrutiny may be necessary in light of her daughter’s recent rise in prominence and involvement with both the French and British wizarding governments.
End of Document”
I nudge Draco’s shoulder and turn the file towards him. He quickly scans it as I explain. “Draco, this is my grandmother. I had no idea she even existed. She was involved in everything—my mother’s family, the Death Eaters, the Conseil…”
Draco’s eyes widen as he reads the file, understanding dawning on him. “Your family has been playing both sides all along. Your mother’s lineage… this is why they’re so deeply involved.”
I close the file with shaking hands, my mind spinning as I try to process the truth I’ve just uncovered. “I thought I knew who I was, but this… this changes everything.”
Before either of us can say anything more, Hermione’s voice calls out from across the hall, breaking the tense silence. “I’ve found something! Come here!”
We exchange a look before hurrying over to the file room, and I hastily tuck the documents into my bag as we stop in front of a very flustered Hermione.
“I was really only looking for your last name, Y/n, but I think I’ve found something far more interesting. Look,” she says quickly, the words spilling out of her mouth as she hands me a file.
I freeze when I see the name written across the front in bold lettering: Albus Dumbledore.
Draco and I both share looks of disbelief as I open it, my hands trembling. A legal document, similar to my grandmother’s, is the first parchment in a stack of maybe twenty.
“Confidential Legal Document:
Subject: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
File: Dumbledore – Case Number 67429
Date: 12th October, 1981
I. Personal Information:
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, known widely as one of the most powerful and influential wizards of his time. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founder and leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and holder of numerous prestigious positions within the British and international magical communities.
II. Associations and Affiliations:
Albus Dumbledore is known to have forged alliances with a vast network of influential families, including several powerful pureblood and international families. His affiliations include, but are not limited to, the following:
Beaufort, Black, Burke, Carrow, Charbonneau, Crouch, Durand, DuPont, Fawley, Gaunt, Lavigné, Lestrange, Malfoy, Moreau, Nottingham, Ollivander, Parkinson, and Rosier.
Dumbledore’s involvement with these families is both extensive and complex, often shifting based on shifting political and magical landscapes. Notably, he has maintained a working relationship with the majority of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, as well asnumerous foreign pureblood families, including those of French, Italian, and Eastern European descent.
III. Assets:
1. Real Property:
- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in which Dumbledore retains full governance. While the school itself is a public institution, Dumbledore’s private office contains many hidden magical objects and tomes, and he holds undisclosed personal estates on the grounds of the school.
- Godric’s Hollow, the ancestral home of the Potter family, which Dumbledore inherited as part of his long-standing relationship with James and Lily Potter. This estate is believed to hold significant magical artifacts, but its full value remains unknown.
- Grimmauld Place, the Black family’s ancestral home, which Dumbledore personally secured as a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. The true extent of the property’s enchantments and hidden vaults remains a subject of curiosity.
- Other properties are assumed but remain undisclosed at this time.
2. Magical Assets:
- The Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows, and an extremely powerful magical artifact in Dumbledore’s possession. Its history and true value remain known to only him.
- Numerous enchanted objects and magical instruments, including the Pensieve, which allows Dumbledore to store and view memories.
- A private collection of rare magical texts, including works on Transfiguration, alchemy, and ancient magical laws. Some of these texts are believed to be of immense value, both for their age and their rarity, but their exact contents are largely unknown to the public.
- Other magical assets are assumed but remain undisclosed at this time.
3. Other Known Assets:
- An undisclosed vault within Gringotts, which holds a variety of magical assets and documents of both historical and personal significance. While the contents of this vault have never been publicly revealed, it is widely believed that it contains rare and potentially dangerous magical items, as well as Dumbledore’s personal correspondences with influential magical families across Europe.
IV. Legal Cases and Involvements:
1. Case #5407 – International Magical Relations Dispute (1978):
Dumbledore was a key figure in a diplomatic dispute between the British Ministry of Magic and several European magical governments, particularly surrounding issues of magical law enforcement and the regulation of Dark Arts practices. His intervention was pivotal in averting an international conflict, though his exact role and the specifics of the negotiations have been kept private.
2. Case #9223 – The Disbandment of the Dark Arts Task Force (1976):
Dumbledore’s involvement in the disbandment of the Dark Arts Task Force was controversial,as it came at a time when Lord Voldemort was rising in power. Dumbledore defended his actions in the Conseil des Sorciers and other international bodies, claiming that a more covert approach was necessary. While the case was closed without legal consequence, many still question the wisdom of his decision, given the eventual return of Voldemort.
3. Case #1139 – Alleged Alliance with Gellert Grindelwald (1925):
This high-profile case involved allegations of Dumbledore’s earlier alliance with the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald. While Dumbledore admitted to his past mistakes in the matter, his testimony was accepted, and no formal charges were pressed. However, the case remains a dark mark in his otherwise impeccable legal history, and it has been the subject of much speculation in recent years.
4. Case #1027 – The Fawley Inheritance (1945):
Dumbledore’s involvement in the Fawley estate case, which involved the inheritance of the Fawley family’s considerable fortune and properties, was a delicate matter. Dumbledore’s close ties to the family and his legal standing allowed him to influence the outcome, ensuring the estate remained in the hands of those who would support his long-term goals.
5. Case #4935 – The Wizengamot Challenge (1980):
Dumbledore’s position on the Wizengamot has occasionally been challenged, most recently in 1980 when his decisions regarding the appointment of a new Chief Warlock were contested. The challenge was led by several members of the Malfoy family, among others, but Dumbledore successfully retained his position after a series of high-stakes legal maneuvers.
V. Conclusions and Recommendations:
Albus Dumbledore remains a central figure in both British and international wizarding politics, with deep ties to many of the most influential magical families across Europe and beyond. His wealth and assets, particularly his unknown holdings and alliances, make him an enigma in the magical world. While his actions have often been questioned, particularly his choices surrounding Grindelwald and his dealings with dark families, his influence over both the Ministry of Magic and the Conseil des Sorciers remains undeniable.
Dumbledore’s continued position of power and his strategic alliances will likely shape the direction of future magical governance and may hold the key to many unresolved conflicts within the wizarding world. Further monitoring and investigation into his secretive holdings and associations may be warranted to fully understand the scope of his influence and potential future moves.
End of Document”
We all stare at each other in shock, unsure of the true weight of the information in our hands. Then Hermione pulls out one last file, making my heart drop.
It’s my name, written in bold letters.
“I… how could I have a file?” I ask quietly, taking it from her hands. “I’ve never needed a lawyer.”
Hermione stiffens as if she knows something I don’t. “It’s not the same kind of file as most of what I’ve come across in here. Open it.”
I tuck Dumbledore’s file into my bag to free my hands before cracking open the file, where I’m greeted with an entirely different type of document.
“Notice of Inheritance and Position Transfer
Conseil des Sorciers
Official Record
Case Number: 83942
Date: 21st October, 1992
To Whom It May Concern,
This document serves as formal notice regarding the hereditary transfer of a seat on the Conseil des Sorciers, the governing body of magical affairs in France.
It is hereby acknowledged that Castor Lavigné, previously the holder of the third seat of defense, has officially stepped down from his position due to personal and professional reasons, as stipulated by his last legal action and recorded in the relevant archives of the Conseil des Sorciers.
As per the laws governing the succession of seats within the Conseil des Sorciers, Y/n Lavigné, as the direct descendant of Castor Lavigné, inherits this position by blood. The seat is automatically conferred to her in recognition of her lawful heritage and the established family lineage.
This transfer is immediate, and Y/n Lavigné is now entitled to all rights, privileges, and responsibilities associated with this seat. She shall be afforded the full capacity to participate in all matters related to the Conseil des Sorciers with immediate effect.
Implications of Inheritance:
As the new holder of the seat, Y/n Lavigné shall possess the following rights:
- Full participation in council meetings.
- Access to sensitive political and magical documents.
- The ability to represent the Lavigné family in official dealings.
- The right to influence decisions regarding magical law and governance.
In light of her inheritance, Y/n Lavigné now holds significant influence in both political and magical matters, which may have far-reaching consequences for current and future negotiations within the Conseil des Sorciers.
Conclusion:
This notice formalizes the inheritance and confirmation of Y/n Lavigné as the new holder of her father’s former seat. Her right to this position is enshrined by blood and tradition, and all members of the Conseil des Sorciers are hereby notified of this change in representation.
Official Seal of the Conseil des Sorciers
End of Notice”
My hands tremble as I look up at Hermione, my mouth wide open. “I… how does this… this can’t…”
I restart my sentence over and over but I’m still not sure how to finish it. I don’t even know if I’ve processed this enough to be able to ask any questions about it.
Before I can find the words, Aurélien’s voice breaks the silence as he moves quickly toward us. “We have to go. Get the files, now!”
I shove the file containing into my bag, but my fingers are unsteady. Hermione’s already gathered the rest of her findings, stuffing them hastily into her own.
Aurélien grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the door. “We need to move. Let’s go!” he whisper shouts.
The sound of footsteps grows louder down the hall, and I can feel my heart pounding. The weight of the files feels almost too heavy now. The reality of what they mean is crashing down on me, but there’s no time to think about it.
“Go!” Aurélien urges, pushing me into the hallway.
Draco and Mione appear at my side and we rush down the corridor, our footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The tension is unbearable. I can hear the sound of voices—distant but getting closer.
Ron and Harry are already at the stairs, their backs pressed against the wall, alert. They’re ready to strike if anyone draws their wands on us.
Draco looks at me, his usual smirk gone, replaced by an expression of quiet determination. “We make it out of here now, we figure this out later.”
I nod, too shaken to say anything. We’ve made it this far, but the real challenge is getting out without being caught. We have to keep moving.
Aurélien leads the way, quick but careful, and we follow him as we make our way back to the hidden tunnel. I throw up a disillusionment charm and a muffling spell as we all slip back inside, granting us a few extra seconds of concealment, just in case.
The large stone wall grinds to a close behind us, and all of it’s wards shimmer back into place, as if we’d never been here at all. I frantically whip around to do a headcount, and thankfully, we all made it through.
I feel the entire group exhale, like we’d all been holding our breath. My hand finds Draco’s absentmindedly, and our fingers interlock like we were always meant to. He offers me a reassuring squeeze which I reciprocate, happy to just be out of there.
“That was bloody close,” Ron mutters, breaking the silence.
“Too close,” Hermione responds, dragging a hand through her hair. “But we made it. That’s all that matters.”
Everyone nods in agreement as we look around, our wands the only sources of light in the dark tunnels.
Aury steps back up to the front of the group, ready to lead us out. “Let’s not stick around to see if anyone wants to find us, oui? We’ll head back to the fort and discuss everything there. Follow me.”
We wind through the tunnels in silence, the tension thick.
I have no idea what any of this means for me yet, but I know one thing for sure: things are about to get way more complicated.