Lady Leora Malfoy nee Lorraine rested her hand on her son Hyperion’s shoulder. He wasn’t tall enough to officially escort her, but he liked to pretend, and Leora allowed him the pleasure. Today was a special day, after all– 20th March, 1912. His fifth birthday. They were going to the Magical Menagerie to see if Hyperion could find his familiar, and if not that, a pet. This was her special treat to him. Maximilian would join them later for dinner. As they drew nearer, she could feel her son’s magic flutter in excitement. At times like this, she was incredibly grateful for her sensitivity to magic.
A portly wizard stepped out of the shop, saw her, and held open the door with a deep bow.
“Duchess,” he greeted with the correct amount of reverence.
“Monsieur,” she returned politely, sweeping Hyperion into the shop.
English shops were often far too closed off for her liking. She missed the bright, open air shops of France, but she had given that all up for her dear Maximilian. Some of the English buildings were growing on her, but the Menagerie was one that vexed her still. She did not understand why a place filled with such beautiful animals did not have more room for them to roam, more light for them to bask in, or more air for them to breathe.
There was a gentle tugging at her skirts, and she looked down. Her Hyperion was looking up at her with his beautiful blue eyes.
“Maman? May I?”
“Oui.”
She kept a close eye on him, never far behind, but enough to give him his first taste of independence and importance. She loathed to think of how soon he’d leave to be fostered for a year by another House. The only reason he hadn’t left yet was because she and Maximilian had not found another household they agreed upon, despite the many offered to them. Hyperion ignored the crups entirely (too excitable for his gentle nature), glanced briefly at the cats, and went straight to the owls and the toads. The snakes nearby were largely ignored by most patrons, but she had always found them beautiful, so she snuck a glance, only to be surprised by what she found.
A man was crouched before the tanks, his lips moving as if he were speaking to them. He seemed to drip with a strange and comforting Darkness. Black robes with a few dashes of crimson here and there draped over his frame. His hair was as black as a void, and slightly askew, even though he had attempted to style it neatly with a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Even his beard, slight as it was, had the look of being perpetually windswept. She did not recognize him, though he was clearly of noble blood.
She turned back to Hyperion just in time to watch him walk directly towards the man. She moved to gracefully intercept him, but she was two steps too late.
“Do they talk back, sir?” her little boy asked.
The wizard turned to face him and then blinked as if he’d never seen a boy before. Leora fought not to react. He had one brilliant green eye, the other milky white. A large fractal scar cut across the side of his face, over his eye, and partially covered his forehead, as if he’d been struck by lightning. Something about the way he held himself reminded her of the few wix she knew that had seen war. He blinked again, and then smiled, bemused.
It provided enough time for her to reach them. She placed a hand back on Hyperion’s shoulder and sketched a shallow curtsy. “Forgive me, Monsieur. He is an inquisitive boy.”
“Oh, that’s fine. You wouldn’t be Malfoys would you?” the man asked, though he seemed to already know the answer.
Leora shifted slightly, ready to protect Hyperion if need be. She did not like that this man seemed to recognize them, though she knew nothing of him.
Hyperion caught her flat-footed again by giving the man a shallow bow. “I am Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, and this is my maman, Lady Malfoy.”
The wizard seemed lost for a moment, his eyes seeing elsewhere, before he smiled again, and bowed at the waist. “It’s nice to meet you both. You may call me Harry for now. I have so many last names to choose from, I haven’t decided on one yet.”
“We do not wish to bother you, Monsieur Harry,” Leora demurred, still not sure how safe this wizard was to be near, especially with an answer like that.
“You’re not, but don’t let me keep you.”
Hyperion puffed out his chest, “I am here for my first familiar.”
“Is that so?” Monsieur Harry asked, “Which animals are you looking at?”
“Toads and owls.”
A bittersweet smile crossed his face. “My first familiar was a beautiful snowy owl named Hedwig. There were times she was my only friend. If you’re lucky enough to connect to an owl, you’ll have a fine, useful friend who won’t hesitate to risk their life for yours. One of my dearest friends had a toad. Liked to give him the slip all the time. However, my friend loved Herbology and that toad was an excellent help in keeping his plants healthy. And my wife, her familiar was the ugliest half-kneazle there ever was, but he saved her life, and mine, more times than I can count. Awfully demanding though.”
Hyperion didn’t ask what happened to Hedwig, and Leora was glad that she had raised her son to be perceptive and polite.
“What about your second familiar, sir?”
“Ah,” the man smiled almost sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, “There hasn’t been a second. I haven’t had the opportunity, but this lovely lady is very tempting.” He gestured back to the snake he’d been muttering to earlier.
Hyperion stepped closer to get a better look, and Leora followed. Inside the glass enclosure was a small, three-headed snake, a runespoor, if she was not mistaken, and an infant one at that. She had a green belly and was patterned with orange and black stripes, except for her tail and a spot on her leftmost head which were blue with white stripes.
“Are you a potioneer?” Leora asked with curious caution.
“No, but she calls to me, and she’s very sassy. I need strong women in my life to keep me on track.”
“So you can understand her?” Hyperion asked excitedly.
“Oh, yes. She’s insulted my beard twice, threatened to bite me once, and told me I had a terrible accent. I think I may love her.”
“What does she think about me?” Hyperion asked, peering closely at her.
The man squatted down and whispered at the snake. She thought it kind that he was indulging her son. Leora couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he soon turned toward Hyperion.
“She says you have sunshine on your head, and she would like to bask in it.”
Hyperion looked delighted. “I hope I can talk to my familiar.”
“With Hedwig,” the wizard began to explain, “I couldn’t speak her language and she couldn’t speak mine, but we could understand each other. It felt like a deep, warm knowing. That’s what you should look for. Be open to the type of familiar, because whichever one connects with you is the one you and your magic need.”
Hyperion was hanging on his every word, and Leora, while still cautious, appreciated that this man was sharing his genuine experiences with her son. Who was this wizard?
The door to the shop opened, and a tug on her magic compelled her to look. The woman that stood in the door was breathtaking. Magic cloaked her like a second skin, and her amber eyes nearly glowed with it. It danced between the curls of her brown hair. Furthermore, she was covered in scars. There were several parchment-thin ones slashed across her neck. Another very strange scar was on either side of her neck, almost as if a cursed necklace had burned deeply into her skin. The worst of it, however, was her arm. The sleeves of her robe ended mid-forearm and peeking out from underneath was a word carved into her flesh. The only letters she could make out were ood. It sent a chill down Leora’s spine.
The woman peered around the shop, until her gaze stopped abruptly on Hyperion. She began to move with purpose. Again, Leora was struck by the feeling of being in close proximity with a warrior, and, once again, she wasn’t sure of her intentions. Monsieur Harry stood abruptly. “Hermione!”
Leora inhaled in surprise as she sensed their magic immediately seeking the other out and twining intensely. It almost felt like being near a veela’s thrall, the love and need were so great. There was comfort knowing the witch wasn’t after her son. The witch dipped her head in acknowledgment and murmured a polite pardon me as she stepped past them. Monsieur Harry immediately offered her his hand. She took it, and they gazed at each other for one of those infinite moments that made Leora long for Maximilian.
“You’re not pestering these lovely people, are you, Harry?” the woman asked. Her voice was raspy, as if she’d spent a long time screaming and was still healing. Considering her scars, Leora did not want to ask.
“I don’t pester, Hermione, I endear,” he said with a goofy grin. “Let me introduce you. Lady Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, may I introduce you to my absolutely brilliant lady-wife, Mrs. Hermione. Hermione, my glorious quill feather, may I introduce you to Lady Malfoy and Heir Malfoy.”
She had the same reaction her husband did to their name, a little surprise and then a smile. She curtsied properly then. “A pleasure to meet you both.”
“You haven’t decided on a name yet either?” Hyperion asked.
A fond, exasperated look crossed the witch’s face. “Oh, I’ve narrowed it down, but he won’t pick one. He’s far fussier than he looks.”
Leora allowed herself a brief, amused smile. “It is nice to meet you as well, Madame Hermione.”
The witch perked up. “Do you speak French?”
“I do,” Leora replied, surprised to be addressed in her native tongue.
The witch cocked her head slightly, “You actually seem very familiar to me. Do you have family in the French Alps?”
“I do. Do you?” she countered.
Something both cautious and dangerous flashed in Madame Granger’s eyes. “In Annecy and La Grave, though as they are Muggles, I am almost certain you haven’t heard of them.”
Leora’s magic twisted uncomfortably as she became absolutely certain what was carved on the witch’s arm. “That is certain, we’ve lost track of the Muggle family names since the Statute. However, there is a small museum in Annecy that does still have information on my family, along with a few Muggle-painted portraits.”
The witch’s entire demeanor changed. “I knew I recognized you, you must be related to the Lorraine family! Perhaps you might know my mother’s family name then. Fornier?”
Leora nearly reeled in shock.“My family employed yours for a time.”
Madame Hermione nodded. “I’ve always been curious, why did your family employ a Muggle one? Were the croissants that good?”
Leora smirked briefly, “No, I do not think so. And it was not a Muggle family, it was a Squib family, descended from a rare Lorraine Squib.” She scowled at the mention of such a dishonor. “Who could deny concern for those living a magickless life through no fault of their own?”
“We’re distantly related then?” the other witch asked, showing some shock herself.
“So it would seem,” Leora replied, watching her carefully. Leora could feel the turmoil in the other witch’s magic. It bubbled and twisted before it finally settled.
“It is comforting to have some connection, no matter how distant, in this place and time.”
There was something so achingly sincere in the other witch’s words that Leora felt any reservations she had disappear. She switched back to English. “Perhaps when you find your name, we might meet for tea.”
“I would enjoy that. Harry will be pleased. He grew up an orphan. Any family he finds is precious to him.”
“Then he and I are in accord.”
“Maman, Maman, look!”
Leora was surprised to note that, while she and Madame Hermione had been talking, Hyperion and Monsieur Harry had wandered away. Hyperion ran towards her, his arms full of rodents, and a look of awe on his face, the older wizard following him with a bewildered look.
“Hermione, did you know rat kings are real?”
“Of course. Instead of multiple rats tied together, magical rat kings are born attached at the tail, and instead of the typical bone, a rat king's tail actually contains a great amount of sensitive nerve pathways. They are more like a hydra, a single organism made of several functioning brains. They tend to be psychic and show a talent for telekinesis.”
Leora looked at the strange creature in her son’s arms. Its bodies were a mix of silvers and whites in multiple patterns and its eyes lacked irises or pupils and instead were a solid glowing pink. She could admit this was not what she was expecting when she brought Hyperion here.
“Are you sure, mon chou?” she asked.
“His name is Lucius, after great-great-great-great grandfather,” Hyperion said proudly.
Monsieur Harry’s face seemed to spasm for a moment. She wondered if it had something to do with his scars.
“Lucius,” she repeated. All the creature’s faces turned towards her. Ah, that would take some time getting used to. She held out her fingers for him to sniff. He did, delicately. Perhaps this creature was more suitable than she believed. “Let us go to the counter and get what he needs.”
“It was nice meeting you, Heir Malfoy,” the wizard said, with a small wave.
“You, too, Monsieur Harry! Thank you for helping me find my familiar!”
“Anytime,” the wizard replied, with a fond smile.
“I’ll owl you for tea?” Madame Hermione offered.
“Oui. After the new moon?”
“Absolutely,” the other witch replied.
With one last wave from Hyperion, they left the strange witch and wizard to their own devices. Now attuned to their voices, she caught bits of their conversation.
“..sorry about leaving you in the bank alone. I saw Griphook and...”
“I took care of everything. Doesn’t he look so much like Dra…”
“...really? That’s amazing! Your grandmere…
“…bad news. We missed Tom’s birthday…”
“…we can’t have! All of this…nothing…”
“…calm down… Harry… missed…12th, April 1912. Just in time for Merope’s fifth birthday…”
…have to! Now! They…
Suddenly, Monsieur Harry and Madame Hermione swept past them, a bag of Galleons tumbling onto the counter. Leora noticed a small blue-tipped tail tuck into the back collar of his robes. It seemed Monsieur Harry had found what he was looking for after all.