"I did come to Paris with the idea of scoping out the market…"
When Madame Rosier brought up the mirror business, Melvin played along, slowing his eating to savor the meal while chatting about the development of enchanted mirrors. He started with his days leaving Ilvermorny to hustle on Broadway and traced the journey to mirrors finding their way into thousands of British wizarding homes.
"…When I first got to London, I was looking for a magical medium to play images. My initial thought was developing potion, but the shop clerk told me high-quality potion costs thousands of Galleons and only plays for ten minutes."
Madame Rosier, clearly familiar with Vinda's briefing and her own research on the mirrors, listened patiently to Melvin's anecdotes, occasionally asking for details or tossing in a compliment.
"Getting tavern owners to help distribute, offering pricey custom services—that's not just selling mirrors; it's selling prestige," Madame Rosier said with a faint smile. Her voice was soft but carried weight, making her praise feel genuinely significant. "If the mirror business expands to Paris, the Rosier family would definitely invest heavily."
The conversation shifted focus, but the atmosphere at the table remained cordial. Christine and Mr. Rosier sat quietly, playing their roles as background figures—a dynamic they were clearly used to.
"It's just borrowing some Muggle luxury brand tactics," Melvin said humbly.
"Melvin, when can we buy mirrors in Paris?" Madame Rosier asked casually.
"There's still a long way to go before distribution here," Melvin said, feigning regret with a sigh. "I don't know anyone in Paris. I can't even find a tavern door, let alone know what the local mead tastes like. I doubt I can replicate the British distribution model."
"The Rosier family is close with the current Senior Undersecretary and has connections in the Transportation Department who could make introductions," Madame Rosier said, pausing briefly. "We also dabble in the tavern business—mostly leasing shops and trading brewing supplies. If you're willing to trust the Rosiers, we could offer some modest help."
As the two veered into real business talk, Christine couldn't stay silent any longer. She cut in, "Distributing mirrors takes a lot of prep work. In Budapest, Aunt Vinda ran into all sorts of trouble because she wasn't ready…"
She painted a daunting picture of distribution: upfront costs to build a market, sparking wizard demand, handling imports and logistics, dealing with fussy customers, hosting high-end clients, and managing after-sales support. It was complex, requiring careful planning before any deals could be made.
"Professor Levent is just here to scout the market. Mother, you should think it over carefully too. Maybe talk to Aunt Vinda again."
Christine rattled it all off in one breath.
Mr. Rosier looked stunned, his eyes a mix of pride and concern. His quiet daughter had clearly grown from her time out in the world—when had she ever spoken so much?
"My Christine has really grown up," Madame Rosier said, giving her a long look. Her long lashes cast shadows over the fine lines on her face, and she seemed to sink into thought, letting the subject drop.
The table fell quiet, save for the clink of silver cutlery. Melvin savored his foie gras, feeling the occasional glance from the Rosiers. As the only non-Rosier at the table, he drew their eyes, though they quickly looked away.
Christine exhaled softly. They'd agreed beforehand to bring up the mirror business to appease her mother but avoid firm commitments. Her mother, sharp as ever, had nearly pushed for a distribution deal. If she'd pressed Melvin, he might've been cornered into agreeing.
Christine didn't want to put him in that position.
Melvin wiped his mouth with a napkin, breaking the silence. "More than distributing mirrors, I'd love for the Rosier family to provide compelling content for them."
"Oh?" All three Rosiers looked up at the young professor.
"Selling mirrors is just short-term profit. The real, lasting value is in producing shows," Melvin said with a smile. "The Daily Prophet in Britain is already branching out into new media, raking in ad revenue. Our Care of Magical Creatures professor made a Magical Beasts series that's doing quite well. The Malfoy and Nott families are planning a History of Magic project to boost their influence."
Madame Rosier's ice-blue eyes gleamed.
Christine opened her mouth to speak, but Melvin subtly signaled her under the table to hold off.
She caught the hint, sensing he'd picked up on her mother's displeasure—displeasure aimed at her, not him. He didn't need to promise the Mirror Club's business; a few polite words would suffice to smooth things over. Her mother wouldn't hold a grudge and would likely agree to lend help with the investigation to secure the deal.
The two business minds dove into details. Christine turned to whisper with her father, providing background noise for the negotiation. Across the table, Melvin and Madame Rosier raised their glasses, their smiles genuine as they clinked them together. It was still a business exchange, but at least it was a warm, sincere one.
Christine quietly sighed, feeling she owed Melvin a big favor.
She'd planned to deflect her mother's probing, promising to make it up later—perhaps by leveraging Madame Maxime's influence or introducing Romanian business opportunities to benefit the Rosiers. It could even give them an edge in Ministry faction struggles. Reconciling with her mother, though, would be trickier.
Madame Rosier wasn't the warm, nurturing type, but she wasn't a cruel, neglectful mother either. Carrying the weight of the family, she spent her days buried in contracts and outsmarting cunning rivals. Expressing affection didn't come easily.
Still, she was her mother, and Christine felt that bond. As head of the Rosier family, it was natural for her to have high expectations for her only daughter. If Christine had followed the planned path—studying alchemy, joining the Ministry, or getting close to Nicolas Flamel to restore the family's glory—their relationship might've been smoother.
But Christine didn't like alchemy, didn't want her future scripted, and hated endless talk of business and profit.
Professor Levent offered a new path—one where the Rosiers could prosper, and she could mend things with her mother.
After all, this was her home. She couldn't spend every holiday in the Pyrenees—even Madame Maxime took trips abroad.
Mr. Rosier, intrigued by the History of Magic project, spoke up. "Professor Levent, which era are they covering? The founding of the British Ministry?"
"It's a long timeline, probably starting with the Wizards' Council," Melvin said, recalling Lucius's script but unsure of the exact period.
At the mention of the Wizards' Council, Mr. Rosier lit up. He launched into a detailed lecture, dissecting the Council's structure and management from an academic perspective. The Council wasn't just the precursor to the Ministry of Magic but also to the International Confederation of Wizards, defining personhood, classifying sentient magical species, and regulating dangerous creatures.
Melvin realized this history was far grander than he'd imagined, spanning not just British wizards but other nations and even non-human magical beings, covering migrations and evolutions of entire species.
He felt a spark of excitement, suddenly eager for this History of Magic production.
Magical sentient beings would be drawn to their own histories. If the mirrors featured such content, centaurs, merpeople, and veela might take interest, opening a new market for the mirrors.
A house-elf brought dessert, and Christine seized the moment to state their real purpose. "Mother, the Mirror Club project might need to wait. We're investigating the Purifiers' case right now, with hundreds of young wizards' records to review. Could the family spare some people to help?"
Madame Rosier glanced at her, amused yet exasperated. No wonder she'd brought the young professor home—calling on family resources required careful strategy. "What kind of case needs both Beauxbatons and the Ministry's Auror Office and you coming home to beg for help?
"You brought Melvin as your advocate, thinking I'd say no?
"After two years wandering out there, do you even remember your last name?"
Christine shrank back, the poised witch suddenly looking like a scolded child.
"Tomorrow morning, I'll have people gather at the Ministry. You give them their orders," Madame Rosier said flatly.
---
The crystal chandelier's soft glow illuminated the dining room. From the head of the table, Madame Rosier watched her guests leave, her posture slumping slightly as she leaned back and sighed. The house-elves cleared the table with extra haste, wary of upsetting their mistress.
"Nino says Christine escorted Melvin out," Mr. Rosier said. "He didn't want to stay overnight. They didn't take the Thestral carriage either—just Apparated from the gate. Christine's still in the garden; she'll be back soon."
"I know," Madame Rosier said, rubbing her temples, her voice tinged with fatigue.
"No firm deal came out of that, did it?" Mr. Rosier asked, massaging his wife's shoulders. "You usually push for concrete commitments at the table, preferably with a contract. This time, it's just vague intentions."
"Melvin and I reached an understanding, leaving room for both sides. I've always been aggressive in business, but those were trivial deals. Melvin's different."
Mr. Rosier nodded, his touch gentle. "The mirror business is huge."
"It's not just about scale or profit—or even the mirrors," Madame Rosier said softly. "It's about Melvin himself. He's built networks in Romania, Budapest, America, and Britain. With mirrors, he's amassed wealth in a short time that other families couldn't in centuries. That kind of alchemy—he's the new Nicolas Flamel."
Mr. Rosier froze. In Paris, Nicolas Flamel's name was nearly as revered as Merlin's.
---
The next morning, before dawn.
Fürstenberg Square. A group of wizards stood in the morning mist, their figures faint and blurred, each wearing the Rosier family crest. Their faces were solemn.
Leading them were two figures: Christine, the Rosier family's young miss, and Melvin, a temporary member of the investigation team.
Nearby, the Ministry's birdcage elevator hummed as Aurors rushed past with folders, casting curious glances but keeping their distance.
Last night, after Bonnard and Graves left, the Ministry recalled off-duty Aurors. They'd worked through the night, ruling out a batch of local young wizards, but found no solid leads.
Still, narrowing the search was progress. They were confident they'd soon track down the cultists and the Obscurial.
The Rosier family's hired wizards, not being Ministry staff, couldn't be summoned overnight. They gathered at dawn outside the Ministry. Christine distributed envelopes with student records, mentioning only the need to verify identities, not the Obscurial.
She organized them calmly. "Your job is to confirm student identities and report anything unusual. If you run into trouble, don't engage—return to the Ministry or alert someone nearby. This is a sweep, not a capture."
"Yes, Miss," they replied.
A series of sharp pops echoed as the Paris wizards Disapparated into the mist.
"You've got the makings of an Auror captain," Melvin said quietly.
Christine turned to the young professor, pressing her lips together. "Let's get started."
They stepped out of the square, weaving through Paris's streets. Their movements were fluid—one moment at the street's head, the next at its end, with barely a sound.
A breeze blew from the Seine. In the early June morning, the fog was thick, lingering even as the sun rose. Figures in odd clothing appeared now and then in Paris's alleys.
Christine lowered her voice. "I checked all the envelopes. No young wizard named Bastard."
"Maybe it's just a nickname the cultists gave her—not her real name," Melvin said, flipping through his stack of envelopes. No familiar names, though he spotted a Bastien—a common French name.