Mirrors
France, March 20, 1987
In the kitchen, the warm and cozy aroma of baked goods filled the air, emanating from the oven like a sweet lullaby. The countertops were dusted with flour, and the mixing bowl held the remnants of their dough-making adventure. The rhythmic tapping of a wooden spoon on the side of the bowl was accompanied by the soft sound of butter being creamed and sugar being sifted through a sieve.
Celeste stood beside Harry, a novice baker who was carefully spooning dough onto the baking sheet with his small, flour-covered hands. His brows were furrowed with concentration, but there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he worked on the cookies. They moved together in a synchronized dance as if engaged in an ancient magical ritual.
She could sense his nervousness and hesitation, the way his hands trembled slightly as he handled the dough. But with each passing moment, his confidence grew, and he began to enjoy the process of baking. Together, they worked their way through the recipe, mixing and measuring with precision and care. The kitchen was alive with the warmth of their friendship and the joy of their shared endeavor.
“Do you think she'll like it? It's my first time. Aunt Petunia doesn't let me bake. I reckon I should just cook some eggs for her," Harry's voice was laced with a tinge of trepidation. Celeste could see the uncertainty etched on his face.
She approached the young wizard and placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Inhale deeply first, my dear boy," she instructed, her grip firm but gentle. Harry followed her lead and took a deep breath, letting out a sigh that expressed his unease. Harry's eyes met hers, and she could see the relief in them. His shoulders relaxed, and a small smile spread across his face.
Celeste couldn't help but feel a sense of maternal protectiveness towards the young boy. She knew he had a tough upbringing, and baking cookies for her beloved granddaughter was his way of showing he cared for friendship.
"She will adore them, I’m certain" Celeste added with a gentle smile, her hands deftly placing more cookies into the basket that the young wizard had prepared. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted through the kitchen, filling the room with the sweet scent of butter, sugar, and vanilla. Celeste savored the fragrance, feeling as though she had been transported to a simpler time, a time when baking with loved ones was a cherished pastime.
"My flower has a penchant for sweets, but do keep in mind - this is our little secret." Harry nodded eagerly, his tiny hands taking great care in placing each cookie he had baked into the basket.
Despite the imperfections in his cookies, Celeste could see the ardent dedication he had poured into creating something special for someone he had yet to meet. The tender love in his heart was palpable, and Celeste knew that whoever the recipient of his sweet creations may be, they were sure to be blessed with an outpouring of affection.
"It is fortunate that Fleur is coming then. My little flower," Celeste murmured softly. Memories of the young witch flooded her mind. Despite being only ten years old, Fleur was already breathtakingly beautiful, with delicate features and a graceful demeanor that belied her youth. Her long, silvery-blonde hair already cascaded down her back, falling like a waterfall of silk, a true reflection of her part-Veela heritage. Celeste marveled at the way Fleur carried herself, with a poise and confidence that surpassed her years.
"James, remember what I said?" Celeste spoke with tenderness, observing the young boy before her. Despite the warmth in his heart and the kindness in his intentions, he lacked the confidence that came with social experience. She couldn't help but feel a sense of sympathy for him, understanding the importance of companionship in a child's life.
Harry's lips twisted into a pout, the furrow in his brow deepening as he insisted, "I know. I’ll be patient, I will let her bloom, let her fly, and be her rock "
Celeste's lips curved upward in a serene smile, admiring the child's unwavering patience. She pondered upon the boy's remarkable composure, even in the face of uncertainty, an attribute that was rare to find in someone so young. It was evident that Harry was one who listened intently, not just with his ears, but with his heart. He held onto her every word, a gentle reminder that he was earnest in his efforts to forge a bond of friendship with the girl.
“I know you will be, child. " Celeste spoke with gentle assurance, her voice carrying the weight of her conviction.
Harry's childlike curiosity shone brightly in his innocent eyes as he questioned Celeste. "You said she was your princess. Princesses like sweets, right?" he inquired, a glimmer of hope evident in his voice.
Celeste smiled at the young wizard's earnestness. "Yes, indeed, mon petit chou," she replied, using the French term of endearment. "They also like flowers," she added, her voice trailing off in a nostalgic whisper as she remembered the days when she was also a young girl with dreams of being a princess.
Celeste watched as Harry approached her with a tender expression, gingerly placing the basket of freshly baked cookies on the table. She couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and fondness for the young wizard, who had poured his heart and soul into this gesture of kindness.
As he stepped outside, she watched him search for a token of affection, a simple gesture that would bring a smile to his new friend's face. She marveled at his thoughtfulness, at the way he went above and beyond to make others feel special. And there, amidst the lush greenery of the garden, he found a single daisy flower. Grasping it with small fingers, he returned to her, his countenance beaming with a sense of pride and fulfillment.
"Okay, sweets and flowers. I'll remember that," he declared, his voice filled with childlike enthusiasm.
With a glance at her mystical timepiece, Celeste was aware that Fleur's arrival was imminent. "James, come along now. We mustn't keep our guest waiting," she encouraged, leading the way as they made their way to the entrance hall, eager to welcome the young Veela into their abode.
For a brief moment, she reflected on the curious nature of the young boy's scar, which she had temporarily removed with her magical prowess. But she knew better than to delve into the intricacies of the matter. She had learned that some secrets were better left unexplored, and she trusted that her dear flower would recognize the significance of the famous scar on her own terms.
Harry was yet to be introduced to the trials and tribulations of his future, the gravity of his fate still unknown to him. Celeste pondered, wishing for him to have a carefree childhood, devoid of the heavy burden of destiny. She hoped to provide him with a happy memory to cherish in his future endeavors, one that could shine a light in the darkness that was sure to come once he turns eleven.
"Wh-what if she doesn't like me?" Harry stuttered, his small voice trembling with uncertainty once more. "W-will you tell my aunt and uncle to...to..."
"Shh, mon petit. Stop worrying," Celeste said softly, her voice soothing as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She will be your friend."
Harry's expression softened with relief, and he looked up at Celeste with gratitude shining in his eyes. "Sorry," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I'll be a really good friend, Celeste. I promise."
Celeste couldn't help but smile at the young boy's words. Though he was unaware of the weight that promises held in her household, he spoke with such honesty and sincerity in his eyes.
She knew that her house, with its ancient traditions and customs, would hold his promise in reverence for eternity.