The Night Culmination

Filibert Devereux explained it this way: his father worked for the Queen, in the department where he had to check what happened to the wizarding objects that made it through the Muggle world. Sometimes, however, he took some time off his job to do the exact opposite: he collected Muggle junk, and tried to turn it into something magical.

Witches and wizards did not, usually, take carriages, unless they had to blend in with the Muggles. But Filibert's father had collected an old carriage, magically repaired it, and made it so that it worked without horses.

"But we don't know whether Madame Nuit is hiding amongst wizards or Muggles," Inès reasoned. "Our Professors will only check out in the Wizarding World, while I say we can do both. However... Muggles will notice this carriage is riding itself."

"That is why," Filibert lit up with excitement. "This carriage, as soon as the passengers sit in it, becomes invisible! And, of course, we become invisible as well."

"I wasn't about to ask that," Inès complained.

"That's even better," Gerard told Filibert. "We shouldn't let our Professors see us."

Anatole sighed. "This can't be the right idea," he muttered. "But I'm curious to find out what your father meant, Gerard."

The four students hopped into the Carriage, and they became invisible, along with the vehicle.

Gerard was half expecting Anatole to say something unpleasant, or difficult to understand, like he always did when he addressed him, but the prefect said, instead, "Filibert, your father is a genius!"

Filibert was beaming, and Inès even had the guts to look glad for him. Gerard scowled, and waited for the carriage to take them into the heart of the capital.

"One thing you should know about Madame Nuit," Anatole started saying. "No one really spends time explaining what she looks like, but she's a middle-aged woman who looks much younger than her age with long burgundy hair."

"Everyone knows what she looks like," Gerard retorted. "And, by the way, this is the description that applied to her when she was in her youth. After committing some evil deed and practicing dark magic, everyone knows part of her face is disfigured and..." he looked down, knowing how the next part would sound. "She has a white streak in her hair, matching mine."

Inès bit her lip. Filibert tried not to make eye contact with Gerard. Only Anatole accepted the news as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and asked, "Where have you gathered all of that info?"

"I read a lot," Gerard explained, in a rush. "I've always wanted to solve the mystery of my parents' murder. I've always wanted to know how I got away from the Killing Curse and why I have a white streak in my hair. Most history books agreed that Madame Nuit was deranged, and her act was no different from other massacres evil wizards or witches might have done in the past. They also agree that it's not important to dwell on descriptions of her, like you said. But I've always believed differently. There is something fishy, something to solve, or my father wouldn't have left me that warning."

"Well," Anatole said, like one who's giving a vote to a young student. "That was very well spoken. And I do agree -- there seems to be a mystery surrounding this murder. After all, who would know better than you?"

"Because I was there?" Gerard felt close to committing a murder no one would be able to solve.

"Not at all, you were obviously too young to remember," Anatole gave him a little knowing smile. "But because, like you said, it's your parents. You're part of it, in a way. And Madame Nuit, whatever her reasons were, tried to kill you too... So, you were right, in a way. She wasn't only killing Aurors."

Gerard felt extremely offended he hadn't made that connection before. He'd simply had too much on his mind. It's not like one can forget that the reason you were famous, the reason you had that terrible white streak, was that Madame Nuit had tried to kill you. But, at the same time, he'd never heard it said as evidence before.

The carriage stopped right where Filibert had asked it to -- in the middle of Paris. 

"Perhaps I shouldn't come with you," Anatole said mysteriously, looking at the crowd of wizards that was about to swallow them.

"If you want to wait in the carriage, invisible along with it, to make sure no one steals it, it's fine by me," Gerard smiled at him mockingly.

"It's not fine by me at all," Inès cried. "You said we needed a prefect. We're already breaking too many rules, hanging out in the city without supervision is only going to be another one of them. No, you come with us, Anatole."

Filibert's mouth was hanging open at the idea his friend could stand up to the prefect. Gerard couldn't see the appeal. He stood up to Anatole all the time.

"Why didn't you want to come?" Gerard couldn't help but ask Anatole once they were on their way.

"Something to do with my nerves..." the other boy replied mysteriously. "After what happened last year, I can't really..."

Gerard suddenly remembered the reason why everyone liked Anatole. His heroic deed, the year before, had turned him into a prefect. But, if he wasn't wrong, it seemed Anatole himself didn't like being reminded of it very much.

Was this one thing the two of them had in common? How different was it, really, than to have the scholarship only because of something that made him famous?

Well, the main difference was that Gerard had never proved himself, and was starting to fear he never would. Whatever Anatole had done, it probably wasn't only luck, or a spell that backfired. However, Gerard couldn't help but feel this was a weight that the two of them shared, and it made him feel weirdly warm inside.

"Inès' first idea was right," Anatole declared, all of a sudden, and Gerard felt sick he'd related to the boy a moment before when his friend's face lit up with happiness. It wasn't healthy to be liked by everyone. Or maybe it was, but it obviously showed that one can't judge a book by its cover, and that you were probably a huge prick on the inside.

"I admit that I think so myself," Filibert agreed, as if he could still hope to make an impression on Inès. "Madame Nuit is surely not stupid. She knows wizards and witches are looking for her. She'll hide in the areas of the city most inhabited by Muggles, the ones where our kind would not even dare to go."

In fact, the Wizarding World and the Muggle World shared the same cities and the same streets, but there were some places, like the well renowned Diagon Alley in London where only wizards could go. There wasn't a place that was only for Muggles, but there were neighborhoods where a wizard or a witch wouldn't have gone, as they were too boring and devoid of mystery.

The three friends and their prefect decided to go look for the infamous witch in those neighborhoods. 

"Paris is huge," Gerard complained, after a while. "Without a tracking spell or something of the sort, I don't think we're going to find her."

When he left the school, the chance to solve the mystery his father had left for him was too appealing, and Gerard hadn't thought of the details. Being in the same city as Madame Nuit didn't mean the two of them were going to meet, even though he wished it more than anything else in this world.

And there was also the small possibility, his brain was starting to think that meeting Madame Nuit wasn't going to be a great idea. They had so little training, and the witch was the most infamous that had lived for centuries. They had no proof she still wanted to kill people and that she wouldn't stop at the Guards, but she had indeed tried to murder one of them years before.

However, thinking about it only made Gerard's blood boil, because asking her for an explanation was only the first part. He also wanted her to suffer for what she'd done. Not cruelty, on his part, but a desire for revenge.

"Erm, Gerard," Anatole shook him from his thoughts. "Maybe we don't need that tracking spell after all."

They'd been walking for some time in one of the most crowded streets, hoping to reach a Muggle neighborhood, when, amongst the crowd, they both caught sight of burgundy hair with a white streak in them.

"Have you seen her?" Filibert yelled, not really inconspicuous. "Follow her!"

But, obviously, Madame Nuit disappeared into the crowd. It was, in fact, something Gerard was expecting. Those renowned and famous wizards and witches always had a trick or two up their sleeves.

"She's gone," Inès said, frustrated. "And I don't know how much our word will be worth, considering the Professors might think that we've only used an excuse to get out of the school."

"Anatole Morin, the prefect, will swear that we've seen her," Gerard replied, smiling crookedly at the blond boy. "Won't you?"

Anatole gulped. He was looking paler by the minute. "I... yes, I will. Of course," he smacked his forehead, as if to say he'd been dumb for asking himself where his loyalties lied. "I did say I would follow you to make sure a prefect was with you, didn't I? I obviously meant it in case the Professors asked."

For the first time, Gerard noticed how dangerous it was going to be for Anatole's reputation at school. He wondered why he'd accepted either way. Was it really only because he found the letter from Jacques Touchard mysterious and compelling?

At that moment, Anatole made a strangled sound that sounded like an animal being wounded, and disappeared into the crowd, running away.

Luckily, he was running in the opposite direction from the one where the witch had disappeared.

"What's wrong with him?" Inès asked her friends.

"How am I supposed to know?" Gerard asked cooly. "I've always suspected there was something wrong with him."

"You're just jealous."

"Of what? And no, by the way, I've always suspected there was something wrong with him since he'd interrupted the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson twice, and once it was to puke his guts out."

"Why are you being so hard on him?" Inès challenged him.

Gerard didn't feel like telling the truth, however, he also could not keep it inside any longer. "You all act as if he's Merlin or someone like that just because he's attractive and good at everything he does! Like my father! I could never be one of those people! And... honestly, I find it a bit unfair. I always have. We can't all be like that, can we?"

"We don't worship the ground he walks on, like you're making it sound," Filibert said. "Don't be hard on us too. We simply think he's nice, and he's a prefect. We think you're nice too."

Gerard felt very weak after having exposed how insecure he really was. "But you don't show it. Not in the same way. And if you do, it's because of what I did when I was too little to remember."

"Oh no, Gerard," Inès cried. "I know you must feel like you must live up to something, but I swear we like you simply because of the way you are. You're brave, loyal, good at solving mysteries and you have a bit of a temper. You like to duel and you didn't have votes high enough to be one of us, but you are one of us now, because you're a fast learner and when school will be over, you might be the best of us. I fear the day you will beat me, but I will be happy, because I am your friend."

Gerard tried to dry his eyes. "Do you really feel that way about me?"

"I do too," Filibert said. Then, his eyes widened when he was looking at something in the distance, and he said, "Oh crap... I wonder..."

"What?" Gerard and Inès turned around.

Filibert pointed at a girl who was buying a pasty from a stand. She had dark blond hair and a good-looking face. "Anatole disappeared on us right after this girl came out of the crowd," he explained.