Hermione Papadakis

The trip on the sailboat was punctuated by laughter and shared memories. 

Harry, Ron and Viktor were seated at the back of the boat, sitting around a small shaded area, each with a bottle of cold beer in his hand. The first few minutes of the journey had been silent, almost solemn, the time for them to realize that they were reunited again after so many years. 

Then, little by little, the words had returned. Memories too. 

"Do you remember the World Cup?" Ron laughed, one hand behind his head. When my father fought with the doorman because he wanted to enter with the full-size tent... 

"And you who almost threw up because of Fred's spicy chili," Harry replied with a smile. 

Viktor, sitting cross-legged, listened with amusement, before slipping: 

"And the two of you who suspected me of being a Death Eater for the entire Triwizard Tournament..." when I was just in love and badly coiffed. 

The three men burst out laughing. 

The wind brought them fragments of iodine smells, the cries of seagulls in the distance, and the regular lapping of the water against the hull punctuated their exchanges. 

"So, Viktor?" asked Harry, curious. Still on the pitch? 

"I just play for fun. I am training the next generation now. A lot of young talent in Bulgaria... but they lack discipline," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. And you, still Aunor? 

Harry nodded. 

"Yes, but not on the ground. I spend more time with my children. James started flying. He's already faster than me at his age, the little monster. 

Ron raised his bottle. 

"To the next generation of Weasleys and Potter daredevils!" 

"Cheers," replied Viktor. 

They toasted and laughed, as in the good old days. 

But little by little, the light atmosphere became quieter. 

The sea remained calm, but a tension floated in the air, something deeper than the waves. 

Viktor finally breaks the silence: 

"But seriously... None of us know why we're here? 

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. 

"That's the problem... 

Several hours later, Viktor maneuvered the sailboat with quiet ease, as if he had been sailing in these waters all his life. The boat glided gently to the stone dock, its ropes creaking slightly in the wind. He moored the hull with expert speed, taking one last look at the horizon before setting foot on land. 

As soon as their feet touched dry land, Harry set out to find out. A dull agitation in his chest pushed him to understand. He didn't know why, but something in the air encouraged him to search, to question. 

In a small square lined with gnarled plane trees, he saw an old woman sitting on a low stone wall, wrapped in a shawl of faded colors. Her squinted eyes stared at him without blinking, as if she had been watching him for a long time, as if she were waiting for this moment. 

He felt his heart quicken. He tried his luck. 

"Excuse me, madame." We are looking for a place called "Chez Sophie". 

The woman did not answer at once. She tilted her head slightly, and her eyes became more lively and piercing. Then, in a deep voice, laden with a deep Greek accent, she replied: 

"Are you a wedding guest?" 

"Uh... Yes, yes... Harry stammered, uncomfortable under this scrutinizing gaze. 

"Are you on the groom's side?" she asked, narrowing her eyes still more. I know all those of the bride. And I've never seen you here. 

"Yes, the bridegroom—" There you go... Harry replied, his voice hesitant. 

The old lady sat up slowly, her gestures measured but sure. She took a step closer, her eyes fixed in his like needles of truth. 

"You know, Mr. Potter—" You lie very badly. 

Harry figs. 

The name. She had pronounced his name. Again. 

"I don't know how you received this invitation," she continued calmly, "but I'm glad to see you. Even if... I would have hoped to meet you long before. 

Harry felt his throat tighten. 

"You—" know who I am? 

She nodded, a barely sketched smile on her lips. 

"Despite the years, your exploits have remained legendary. Just like those... of the person you will find up there. 

She raised her arm and pointed to a large building with blue shutters, nestled at the top of a hill, overlooking the village like a forgotten lighthouse. It seemed ancient but solid, imbued with a peaceful aura. 

"I would accompany you," she said gently, "but my old legs would not allow me. 

"Thank you, madame. 

"Sofia," she said with dignity. And don't worry. You still have a lot of questions... But enjoy your stay first. The answers will come to you much faster than you think. 

She gratified him with one last look, a mixture of tenderness and gravity, then turned on her heel and slowly disappeared into an alley, her shawl fluttering behind her like a trail of secrets. 

At that moment, Ron and Viktor appeared behind Harry, hands in their pockets, looking curious. 

"So?" Do you know where the party is?" asked Ron. 

"Yes, up there, on a farm on the hill." But... I think we're going to have to walk there. I didn't see any cars. 

Ron grunted softly. 

"Of course. Why keep it simple? 

"Nothing beats a good walk to stay in shape," joked Viktor, already stretching. 

The trio set off, their footsteps echoing on the sun-warmed stones. 

They slowly climbed the first slopes, leaving behind the calm of the harbor and approaching, without knowing it yet, a place where memories awaited them, ready to awaken. 

At the hostel, the sun was beginning to set, stretching its last golden rays over the peaceful Aegean Sea. 
Sophie, sitting on the balcony of her room, was watching the horizon with a hint of concern. 

The three men she had invited had not boarded the shuttle. Had she hoped for nothing? 
Thinking about it, she almost felt guilty.  

Who would agree to attend a wedding of a stranger, on a remote island, without even knowing why? 

She let out a slight sigh and was about to go home, when a distant hubbub caught her attention. 

She leaned over and saw, on the path leading to the inn, three figures in the middle of a lively discussion. Their gestures, their voices... There was no doubt. It was them. 

His heart missed a beat. 

Hermione was not to see them under any circumstances. She still wasn't aware of their presence on the island, and Sophie intended to keep this secret for a while longer. 

Without thinking, she hurriedly descended the stairs, nearly tripping, and headed straight for the kitchen. 

There she found Hermione, in an apron, busy preparing dinner with concentration. 

"Sophie?" said Hermione, raising an eyebrow. Calm, where is the fire? 

"Nothing, mamma, I—" I just need to go see Grandma Sofia. She wanted to give me one last piece of advice before the big day. 

Hermione s’arrêta, sceptique. 

"Don't delay." And don't leave your friends alone for too long. Take the jeep, you'll go faster. 

"No, that's fine. Walking will do me good. I need to clear my mind a little. 

Hermione walked over and gently put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. 

"Are you stressing?" Do you want to cancel the wedding? 

"No, no! she hastened to answer. I just need to take a breather. And I can't wait for Nikola to arrive. 

Hermione sourit. 

"He will come, you know it." This boy genuinely loves you, much more than you think. And he would never leave you alone before the altar. 

"I love you, mamma." See you later. And promise me to take care of the bridesmaids in my absence! 

"Go, go..." and come back whole," replied Hermione, amused. 

Sophie left the inn at a run, going up the steep path that led to the entrance of the estate. She could already see the three men approaching the courtyard. They didn't want to come face to face with his mother. 

"Good morning! she cried through the cypresses. 

The three men turned around, surprised. 

"Hey, hi! Ron said. Is this the way to "Chez Sophie"? 

"Yes... "And you are lucky," she replied, breathlessly. I'm Sophie. 

She slowed her pace as she approached. A strange mixture of excitement and anxiety was rising in her. 

And when she was within a few steps of them... a silence fell. 

The three men stared at her in amazement. 

"Harry, did you see..." Looks like... 

"Yes, Ron. "I know," Harry whispered, not looking away. 

Viktor frowned, visibly troubled. 

"Do you see the same thing as I do?" 

The two Aurors nodded slowly, flabbergasted. 

"How is that possible?" 

"I don't know," Harry replied. But I think we'll find out soon. 

Sophie, for her part, also watched them in silence. 
She scrutinized their faces, their postures, their gaze... desperately looking for a clue. 

A detail. A resemblance. A trait she could recognize. 

But the closer she got, the more disappointment came over her. None of them resembled him. 

She was back at the starting point. 

Sophie quickly came to her senses. She absolutely had to stay in her role. 
His voice became calm, almost too formal to be honest: 

"Welcome, gentlemen. I am delighted to see that you have responded to the invitation. Did the trip go well? 

Harry, slightly suspicious, replied in a whisper: 

"Hello... Are you the one who invited us? 

"Yes," confirmed Sophia, holding out her hand to each of them. I'm Sophie Papadakis. The bride-to-be. 

The three men introduced themselves briefly, still on reserve. 

Then Ron, with his arms crossed, cut short the politeness. 

"Sorry to break the mood, but..." What for? 

Sophie flashed a nervous smile. 

"Let me show you your room, and I will explain everything to you." Once in peace. 

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron and Viktor, then nodded. 

"Yes, let's do that. The trip was... eventful. I wish I could sit down a bit and send a message to my wife. Does the network work here? 

"Yes, of course," replied Sophie. We even have the Internet. It may be just an isolated island, but we remain connected to the rest of the world. Come on, follow me. The road is not very long. 

To prevent them from running into Hermione, Sophie led them to the old oil mill, a building under renovation located away from the farm. The place had been summarily laid out, and did not look like much. 

Ron, when he discovered the façade still partially under construction, winced. 

"Shall we sleep there?" 

"Yes... sorry," replied Sophie, embarrassed. We have more people than expected, so you will be accommodated in the attic of the mill. It's not very luxurious, but there are beds and a functional bathroom. 

They went upstairs in silence. The attic smelled of dust and old wood, but it had a certain rustic charm. The suitcases were put down without a word, each one quickly inspecting his corner. 

Then, true to his investigative spirit, Harry broke the silence. 

"Thank you, Sophie. We will be satisfied with that. We've lived in much more spartan places," he added, with an amused look at Ron, who rolled his eyes. 

He turned to her, more serious. 

"Now... Why did you invite us? 

Sophie cleared her throat, her heart pounding. It's about time. 

"You don't know me, that's true. But... you knew my mother. I found your names in one of his old journals. 

"So that's another question," Ron said, true to form. Who is your mother? 

"I will tell you. but let me finish," she whispered. She doesn't know you're here, and I don't know how to tell her about it yet. But I needed to see you. Because... For my whole life, my mother refused to tell me who my father was. 

A tense silence followed his words. 

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a half-smile at the corner of his lips. 

"So you think it's one of us?" 

He let out a chuckle. 

"Sophie, sorry to break your dream... but I think, without mistake, that none of us is your father. 

Sophie turned pale. 

"But—" I read it. In his diary. She spent a night alone with each of you. It's written, in black and white. I... 

She was about to continue when a thud rang out downstairs, followed by rapid footsteps on the stairs. 

The door of the attic opened violently. 

Hermione appeared, her eyes dark, her breath short, furious. 

"What is going on here?" 

A leaden silence fell over the room. 
No one dared to move. 

Hermione stared at Harry, Ron, Viktor in turn... and finally, his daughter.