1974, 16th Birthday
February 13th, 1974
The days were still cold in London. February was finally there and Agnes had long awaited another month to come by. She had felt like January had been the longest 31 days of her life. Although everything was rather peaceful when living at the Dunbars, the young woman felt an anxious pain in her chest everytime she was alone in her room, left with her own thoughts. She was trying her best not to think too much by reading and studying a lot. Keeping her mind off of upsetting things was the best way to keep going.
She had cried herself to sleep so many nights she had mastered the de-puffing eyes spell to hide her swollen eyelids. She did not know how other people grieved, she was the only one she knew around her age who had lost a parent. But she was doing her best, at least.
She had received a few doves from Antoine, telling her about the news at school, and a few spells they had learnt in class. Pierre, on the other hand, had sent a parcel through muggle post, containing a beautiful box with various muggle sweets and some books he thought Agnes might like. Jeanne had pitched in and added a huge pile of the latest french Wizard magazines.
Her days were going by unexpectedly fast. In the morning, she would wake up early to share the breakfast with her hosts, and Mr Dunbar would leave to the office. Then, Agnes would study herbology and potions, although she was limited to books. Not being able to perform magic felt like a punishment for being too young. She knew it would be hard to wait until september to do anything magical.
After lunch, she had taken the habits to take a nap, and then read in the family's library, which was way bigger than the one from the manoir. She'd got used to the english books, and had even picked up a few in latin to further analyze the origins of spells and charms. The diversity of knowledge combined in one place was a pure delight for the young witch.
For tea time, Mrs Dunbar would join her and they would enjoy a calm moment together, talking about various topics, including Agnes' current studies.
That day, Mrs Dunbar seemed talkative. She had come slightly late to their daily meeting, and had kept on asking the young woman about her life back in France. Agnes had found it odd, as the woman had never shown any particular interest in her life prior her arrival in London.
- Is the summer very hot in Beauxbatons? I heard the temperature can go quite high. She had asked.
- Yes, but our school had cooling spells all around the castle, so we were fine.
- What about... hm..
She seemed hesitant, taking her cup of tea nervously to her lips.
- Was your mother... What was she like?
Agnes was so surprised she'd almost dropped her biscuit. Mrs Dunbar was asking about Murielle Lenoir. The young witch felt her heart bumped a little faster, her curiosity had been picked.
- She was very kind and always thoughtful. She was beautiful, too. We would go on small adventures together, as we liked to call them. She cared deeply about the magical creatures, and she would study them during her free time. She was also devoted to our family. She w- she is a great mum.
Agnes was pinching her inner cheek to restrain her tears from falling down. It was hard, talking about her. But she liked doing it, especially to Mrs Dunbar. She wanted her and Mr Dunbar to know how amazing of a woman she was. And that leaving her just like her father did, was the worst act of selfishness one could have done.
Mrs Dunbar was staring down at her cup. She looked lost in her thoughts.
- Mr Dunbar, your father, he only told me about your mother when we had our first son, she had finally said. I was in shock, and angry. My mother had wanted me to marry him, saying he was a good man. But at that moment, I felt helpless and betrayed. Mr Dunbar has however proven himself to be a good father to his kids, and a good husband to me. I know he must have felt guilty for what he had done to your mother.
- I am glad he's done something right, at least. Agnes had answered, coldly. But it will never excuse abandoning a pregnant 17-year-old girl.
Mrs Dunbar seemed quite shocked by the tone of the young woman. It was the first time she had slightly raised her voice towards her. Agnes knew she had nothing to do with their story but she kept feeling a negative emotion towards their family. There was something in her heart which was telling her not to give in so easily. They were not worthy of her love, nor respect. HE was not.
- I just wish you to know that you are welcome in this house, and in my family. I can see that you are a very clever girl, and that you will do great things in life.
Agnes had looked up to Mrs Dunbar, her throat aching from the emerging overwhelming emotions. She wanted to supress all her feelings, everything at all. But the woman sitting in front of her seemed so sincere and kind, she had to fight her own heart not to give in.
- Thank you. She said simply.
The woman had excused herself out of the room, leaving Agnes alone, back to her reading. But it was hard focusing, now that the image of her father was blinding her thoughts, and the rage she had tried to restrained was suddenly coming back even stronger.
***
March 1st , 1974
Agnes's 16th birthday was just another normal day except that the Dunbars had decided to organize a large feast for the young woman, and asked Cosmey to prepare the most typical french dishes to celebrate the day. They would be no other guests, as Agnes had requested.
For her, her birthday did not feel like one. It was the first one without her mother, and the first one she had to spend far from home. It was hard, but Agnes was getting better. Learning and studying all types of subjects had its pros. She had reached a year 7 level of knowledge, and could extend her readings and research to more diverse topics, and it kept getting more and more interesting.
At dinner time, Mr Dunbar had finished early at the office, and the family was reunited at home. Mrs Dunbar had mentioned receiving a dove from her eldest son, wishing Agnes a delightful birthday, and were additionaly asking Mr Dunbar to secure tickets for the Quidditch World Cup Finals occuring the following summer. British people seemed as enthusiastic about Quidditch as the French were, Agnes had thought.
Mr Dunbar and Agnes had eaten in silence, listening to the wife's speech on how dangerous it was to hold such event when there were criminals on the loose. The dinner was over soon after that.
Agnes had visited the kitchen to thank Cosmey for the meal, and the little house elf had almost cried, claiming she should have done at least five more proper main courses.
The night had already fallen on Diagon Alley, and the residential neighborhood was calm, only a few passerby were walking to their home. Agnes was storing back a few books in the library, when Mr Dunbar entered the room. She was surprised to see him. He was usually going straight to bed after dinner, not spending much time wandering around the house, like Agnes did.
- Are you looking for a book? Asked Agnes.
- In fact, I wished to-... I wished to give you something.
The older man had made a few steps towards the witch, and had reached for his wand. In a few hand moves, a large rectangular parcel had appeared in front of her.
- I know you are studying hard on your own. But I thought you might enjoy practicing your magic for the remaining months before you start at your new school. If you agree, I have arranged a tutoring lesson with a retired professor, who can supervise you to use your magic outside of Hogwarts for now.
Agnes was listening carefully. Practice her magic? Really?
- How is that possible? I thought underage wizards were forbidden to use magic at home. She asked.
- Well, I may have pulled a string or two, and your... particular situation helped convinced the board to let you take some lessons, in order to prepare for you entrance in 6th year.
- That's... brilliant!
Agnes was shocked, but happy. She felt strange because a part of her felt extremely grateful to her father, and the other wanted to hate him and reject any kind gesture from him. "good good' he had said, simply, and had left the room.
She thought she might have misheard, but was pretty sure he had whispered "happy birthday" before closing the door.
The young witch was standing there, still in shock. She had almost forgotten about the large gift in front of her. She hurried to open it.
A Broom.
He had gifted her a brand-new broom! It looked so clean and smooth. It looked beautiful.