After my words, Fleur paused for a second, her eyebrows creeping up in surprise before she laughed — a clear, genuine sound. Her face lit up even more.
"Touché, Monsieur Malfoy!" she exclaimed, switching to her native language. "Vous êtes plus poli que la plupart des étudiants de Beauxbâtons."
"You are more polite than most of Beauxbatons' students," she translated with a smile.
"Il faut bien justifier les espoirs que place en moi Mademoiselle Millefeuille," I parried, glancing at Celine.
I must justify the hopes Mademoiselle Millefeuille places in me.
Charlotte watched our exchange with obvious interest, while Celine, for some reason, looked… pleased?
"Alors, où commençons-nous?" Fleur asked, addressing everyone.
"So, where do we begin?"
That question made me think. Initially, two days ago, I had planned to exchange my Galleons for local currency, but luckily, my parents had foreseen this. The purse of spending money they'd given me was entirely filled with French moments, not the familiar Galleons. I'd had to quickly familiarize myself with the French magical monetary system.
It wasn't drastically different from the British one. The same three denominations, just with different names.
Louis d'Or — the gold coin, analogue to the Galleon.
Écu — the silver coin, analogue to the Sickle.
Sol — the bronze coin, analogue to the Knut.
The exchange rate was roughly: 1 Galleon = 1 Louis d'Or, 1 Sickle = 2 Écus, 1 Knut = 3 Sols.
Upon learning about our outing, Madame Isabelle kindly offered me a pouch filled with Louis d'Or — likely more than fifty coins, a more than generous sum for a stroll. I politely declined, stating that I had my own pocket money, which turned out to be true. I had simply assumed I'd need to exchange my Galleons, and it hadn't crossed my mind that my parents might have prepared for this. Well, that worked out in my favor.
Though I had to admit to myself, it was my mistake. In all my time in France, I hadn't even checked my "pocket money." In my defense, I hadn't ventured off the estate grounds.
So, when the conversation turned to browsing the shops, I was all for it. I really wanted to buy souvenirs, first of all, and secondly, something useful.
Charlotte enthusiastically talked about the best shops on the Alley, with Fleur chiming in with comments. Celine watched with a slight smile as I tried to navigate this new world of French magical streets.
To say we spent the day browsing would be an understatement. We practically visited every shop and examined the goods. And I walked out of almost every one with new purchases — starting with books and textbooks that interested me. Luckily, the girls helped me with this, and I managed to find equivalents for almost all Beauxbatons textbooks from first to fifth year. Why only equivalents? Because the original textbooks were issued by the school, so I couldn't assemble a complete original curriculum, as I didn't consider second-hand options. But at least I could study the approximate differences between our schools' programs.
And ending with various knick-knacks as souvenirs. I hadn't bought this many useless things even for Christmas presents…
I also picked up various spellbooks that differed from country to country — sometimes just in pronunciation, or minimally in the final effect, but they were different nonetheless. And I acquired a couple of books about Beauxbatons, magical France, local magical law, and… well, a lot more.
It was generally interesting to stroll through the magical district of France. Much more was permitted here compared to Britain, but there were things, conversely, that were forbidden here — though fewer of them. France was more liberal in terms of magical arts, so obtaining supplies for things like blood rituals was no harder than buying any other magical components. I took advantage of this. While I could have requested the same through my father or one of the Avery family shops, I wanted to acquire these things myself, not through Le Lutin or Father.
It was fun making impulsive purchases in the company of cheerful girls who had accepted me well. The jokes, the playful banter — it all made us almost indistinguishable from normal teenagers, though a certain line was definitely maintained.
In the end, I had a great time in interesting company and learned a lot about the three friends. Firstly, that Fleur was indeed a year younger than the other girls, and thus a year below them in school, and would soon turn thirteen. So, my contemporary, as it should be according to my foreknowledge.
Fleur was an extremely unusual and interesting girl, both in character and family background. Especially the latter. I already knew who the Delacours were — I hadn't learned it today, but during my time in France.
The Delacours were a quite wealthy and noble family, and the head of the family — Fleur's father — was practically the second most powerful person in France, right after the Minister of Magic. Many predicted he would get that coveted position as soon as the current minister's term ended. The Delacours had strengthened their influence over the last couple of generations by securing some kind of contract with the French Veela coven, which was why Fleur's father was married to a Veela, as was her grandfather. Fleur herself was a Veela, because you can't be half or a quarter Veela… you either are one or you're not.
The Veela coven was a powerful force in France and the largest union of this type of being, who were not so different from wizards. That's why in France, Veela were included in the general category of magical beings — nothing less.
But all of this paled in comparison to the constant danger surrounding poor Fleur. She's only twelve, and at our first meeting, I was very strongly affected by her natural Veela allure, which was still in its nascent stage. Imagine what it would be like in a couple of years, not just for one disciplined young man, but surrounded by many less disciplined wizards.
According to the girl, this had started recently, and she had only just begun learning to control such a powerful but double-edged force.
At the end of our long stroll, we went to the much-praised patisserie, where we tried a divine-tasting soufflé that I would dream about for a long time. No, I'm not joking! As a connoisseur of soufflés, I declare it couldn't be better. I think it was the most delicious dessert I've ever tasted in my life… both lives. Anyway, I wolfed down three portions in a row and, of course, treated the girls, as I had promised Celine.
That's more or less how my exploration of magical France went, never expecting that afterwards, Celine would invite me on every one of their outings. Perhaps I shouldn't have fed them that soufflé…
***
A lot can change in more than a month, even when you're surrounded by people who were initially strangers. Even those who seemed to view you negatively rather than positively changed their minds upon getting to know you, your personality, and character. Those who were initially neutral became well-wishers, though I harbored no illusions.
I managed to establish good relations with almost the entire Millefeuille family, except for one individual… maybe two. But let me start with the people who actually make decisions in this house.
I'll begin with Madame Isabelle, who became more favorable towards me, seeing in me not just the heir of another family. I think she discerned certain potential in me, because this woman evaluated everything in such terms — even her own daughter, Celine… And that's not surprising. Isabelle Millefeuille began each morning by reviewing financial reports from their family enterprises. Her study was a model of order — not a single stray paper, only stacks sorted into colored folders, and a crystal inkwell gifted by her great-grandmother.
Madame Isabelle's husband, Jean-Luc, was neutral towards me, as he was, incidentally, towards his own daughter. As I noticed, this was likely why Celine valued the attention from her uncle, grandfather, and mother more than from her father, who didn't really participate in her life, despite his nominal presence.
He was more for show than an actual masculine hand in the family. Jean-Luc was simply a bureaucrat who did everything his wife said and was practically the head of a very wealthy, noble French family. Every morning, he meticulously donned his robe with embroidered crests and went to the Ministry, where he held a prestigious and useful post as an advisor to the Minister for International Affairs.
In the matter of her husband, the woman had been assisted by her father and the current head of the family — Alain Millefeuille. His personal quarters were in the east wing of the mansion and were a veritable fortress of memories. Display cases with family heirlooms stood everywhere, portraits of ancestors hung on the walls, and near the fireplace was a dark oak chess table with pieces carved from ivory.
Initially, old Alain did not regard me warmly. Yes, let's be honest, on the day of my arrival, he just nodded at me and that was it. So imagine my delight when I caught him grumbling, trying to teach his younger son, Bertrand, how to play chess. That's when I found the key to the family patriarch's heart. The child gladly yielded his place to me with visible relief, and the old lord assessed my first move, a knight's gambit, with unconcealed interest.
To say we got along with Alain Millefeuille would be an understatement. Every day we played at least a couple of chess games, and how he delighted in every outcome — of course, more in his own victories, but he was simply happy to play with an equal opponent who genuinely wanted to play, not just out of respect for his person and age. He especially liked it when I employed unexpected tactical moves — then his eyes would light up with excitement, and he'd start to grumble: "Finally, someone who knows how to think!"
He particularly enjoyed that we played at roughly the same level, which made us both fiercely want to win. The old lord of the Millefeuille family and the young heir of the Malfoy family sat playing magical chess… it had a nice ring to it.
Alongside the game, we discussed politics, and the amount of useful advice and insights the old alligator whispered to me was countless. Every piece of his advice settled in my mind, and I later pondered it all.
That's how I knew about the Delacours, the inner workings of French families, politics, and even the role of Jean-Luc, whom the old man once called a mere worm, unworthy of his daughter, but useful for keeping the daughter within the family and securing necessary Ministry connections.
I think if we don't formalize an engagement with their family, Celine might face a similar fate, because trading such a family asset for a less useful alliance than with the Malfoys would be wasteful; better to keep her close, as old Alain did with his daughter, Isabelle. He once remarked about Celine's mother: "Of all my investments, she turned out to be the most profitable."
He told me many things — how he concluded various deals, how his great-grandfather earned respect and a fortune supplying magical components during the Thirty Years' War. That's how the Millefeuilles originally entered the ranks of noble French families.
Beyond information about the family, the inner workings of magical France, and other less common knowledge, we constantly discussed various stratagems. The old man often gave real-life examples of intrigues and cunning tricks that had brought him to old age and further strengthened his family. I think much of what he told me would be better kept hidden from even distant relatives, despite the chance of becoming very strong allies and forming family ties.
For example, how he once engineered the bankruptcy of a rival family by buying up their debts through front men, or how he ruined more than one fool at auctions, again through intermediaries. He even told me how easily he had once swindled my father when he first took the reins of power.
But here, it seemed, it wasn't hardened skill and aristocratic habits at play, but simply the softness that comes with old age. Few in the family spent much time just chatting with the old man. Except, perhaps, for old Marie-Laure, who had been feeling quite poorly lately and wasn't much of a conversationalist. Her room was now always in semi-darkness, smelled of medicinal herbs, and she dozed in a rocking chair most of the day, only occasionally muttering something incoherent about "the good old days."
I honestly tried to connect with her through old Alain. They said she used to be a woman of sharp mind, but now she was just an old crone who could only mutter that things were different before and people weren't as they should be. The old lord, looking at her, once sighed: "Time spares not even the strongest, boy. Remember that." And I will remember.
Fortunately, senility had not touched Lord Millefeuille. So, we spent many hours over chess games this way. The old man had someone who listened to him eagerly and shared his love for the game of kings, and I tried to regain my form in chess, but I was more drawn to the wisdom and experience the old man shared without reservation. Sometimes we were brought herbal tea and freshly baked croissants, and we'd break for tea, during which Alain would tell amusing stories from his youth.
Of course, he understood this himself and perhaps deliberately wanted to pass on his experience and life values to the next generation, but he had only reached me. Once, when he least expected it, I checkmated him in three moves. He laughed and said: "A pity my grandchildren prefer chasing brooms to developing their minds."
And however much I denied my own sentimentality, I grew genuinely fond of the old man. Gradually, he transformed from a valuable old man, rich with life experience in high society, into the image of a sort of grandfather figure, explaining to me things my father either couldn't or wouldn't. When I made a particularly beautiful move, he praised me with sincere pride, and in difficult moments, he offered wise advice — not just about politics, but about life.
I had missed having a grandfather terribly, and he seemed to fill that void, but I diligently tried to brush aside that thought, hiding behind the benefits I was gaining. It was even sad to realize that these chess games of ours wouldn't last forever and that I would soon leave this hospitable house.
The house was hospitable for several other reasons, but the most important were Bertrand and his well-mannered, intelligent children. Celine's uncle, Bertrand, was a good man, though somewhat infantile, in my opinion. His passion was the vineyards — he could talk for hours about the intricacies of growing magical and non-magical grapes. His face lit up when the conversation turned to wine.
His eldest son, Louis, became a true friend to me, and I think this camaraderie will last. We not only trained together but sometimes just sat on the porch at night discussing plans for the future. Louis aspired to become a powerful combat mage, though he didn't talk about it much. That's why he was well-versed in the subject. He even advised me to consult a Potioneer to calculate the correct dosage of strengthening potions. Certain varieties, taken over a specific period while training, accelerated muscle development and provided a good long-term effect. He just wasn't sure if I was old enough for such a course, so he warned me to consult a specialist.
Louis and I, by the way, trained in a special hall in the basement, where the walls were covered in protective runes and the floor was made of self-repairing marble. I had a similar training hall at home. It was there we practiced new spell combinations, and it was our daily training that further infuriated Frédéric, who probably thought I was trying to replace him everywhere. But the problem wasn't me, it was him. He usually stood in the doorway, watching our sessions with envy, his face twisting in irritation when Louis praised my progress. And before my arrival, he had tried his utmost to avoid training with Louis.
It wasn't my fault that he complained about the difficulty of daily training with Louis, and Louis chose a more equal and similarly driven person. Or that his sister spent time with me… A tragedy, no less, in his opinion. Though the relationship between brother and sister had been strained from the start.
They didn't get along very well, and, let me remind you, Celine was closer to her uncle's family. The reasons for this attitude were clear: she was perceived too much as a resource, not as a daughter or sister. But her uncle and his family treated the girl quite differently.
I saw how coldly Celine's parents were towards her, and I saw Frédéric's paltry character. I wouldn't be surprised if he generally treated her poorly. He likely envied his sister's talent and achievements. Once I witnessed him mockingly commenting on her successes in alchemy, trying to drag me into it as well.
So, essentially, it was only with the old woman and Celine's brother that I couldn't establish good relations. With everyone else, I had good enough relations to ensure strong business connections in the future, even in the event of a failed engagement. I was even considering inviting Louis to visit Britain during the summer holidays.
Father and Madame Isabelle had, of course, acted wisely. In any case, I had strengthened the ties between our families, and if an engagement were added, our alliance would become stronger than any other. Already, old Alain had mentioned that our families were considering joint investments in expanding ginseng plantations in Normandy.
Aside from all this, in the end, even though I would be returning to Britain in two weeks (a bit less), I can proudly state that the entire month of holidays was far from wasted. I not only improved my French but also strengthened inter-family relations, advanced in a new magical discipline, and learned a great deal.
And against the backdrop of all these positive notes, Frédéric once again ruined things, deciding to challenge me on my own turf — in duels. He decided to join us for training today and started making comments to me, particularly in areas he knew nothing about. In the end, one word led to another, and so we had this sort of "friendly sparring" match.