The kitchen smelled of melted butter and seared meat, with a faint, savory char lingering in the air. A heavy cast-iron pan sat on the gas stove, its handle radiating warmth. Blue flames licked around its base with a low hiss.
Jane stood at the counter, her knife moving rhythmically through a loaf of bread, cutting it into thick, crusty slices. Jack leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed, watching the pan with quiet concentration. The white streaks in his black hair caught the overhead light.
Nimue pulled out a heavy wooden chair, its legs scraping against the floor, and climbed onto the seat. The cold wood seeped through her trousers, but she barely noticed. She patted the empty space beside her in a silent invitation. Cinder settled comfortably in the shadows beneath her chair, his russet tail curling around her ankle like a warm silk muff.
« Assieds-toi, grande sœur. »
(Sit, big sister.)
Fleur sat down, the cream-colored jumper she wore catching the soft winter light filtering through the window. She pulled her chair closer to the table until her knees fitted neatly beneath its edge.
Jane carried the pan over and transferred its contents onto a large wooden board. Three steaks, their edges charred and their centers tender and pink, rested beside a mound of mashed potatoes streaked with melted butter. A pile of browned, glistening sausages filled the remaining space, with steam rising from the food in thick clouds.
Margaux took the seat opposite her niece. She unbuttoned her long black coat and draped it over the back of her chair before smiling at Jane.
« Ça sent bon, Jane. Tu as toujours cuisiné comme ça? »
(That smells good, Jane. Have you always cooked like this?)
Jane brought over the bread and placed it in the middle of the table.
« Non. J'ai appris après mon mariage. »
(No. I learned after my marriage.)
Saoirse dropped into the last empty chair and reached for a sausage before anyone had even served themselves. She bit into it with a satisfied hum. Margaux watched her with raised eyebrows but said nothing.
Nimue picked up her fork and speared a piece of steak, dragging it onto her plate before reaching for the mashed potatoes. The silver serving spoon was heavy, and her wrist wobbled, spilling a little potato onto the table. She paid no attention to the mess. She scooped up another portion, more carefully this time, and deposited it beside the meat.
Fleur watched her.
« Tu manges toujours autant? »
(Do you always eat that much?)
« Oui. Je grandis. »
(Yes. I'm growing.)
Jane passed the plate of sausages toward their guest.
« Mange, s'il te plaît. Tu es trop mince. »
(Eat, please. You are too thin.)
Fleur looked at the sausages, then glanced at her aunt. Margaux shrugged and took one for herself. Following her example, Fleur picked up a sausage and placed it neatly along the edge of her plate.
For a while, the only sounds were knives scraping against ceramic and the soft clinking of glasses. Outside the kitchen window, the gray December sky hung low and heavy over the city. Somewhere in the distance, a woman called out a name that Nimue couldn't quite make out through the glass.
Jane set down her fork and looked across the table at Fleur. Her green eyes were calm and thoughtful.
« Fleur, tu as quel âge? »
« Sept ans. »
Jane tilted her head as she reached for her water glass.
« Sept. Bientôt l'âge pour Beauxbâtons. »
(Seven. Soon the age for Beauxbâtons.)
« Dans quatre ans, » Fleur replied.
(In four years.)
« Oui. »
Jane set her glass down.
« As-tu déjà pensé à ta maison? Celle que tu aimerais rejoindre? »
(Have you thought about your house? The one you would like to join?)
Fleur put down her knife. Her blue eyes drifted toward the window before settling on Margaux. Her aunt gave her a small, encouraging shrug. Fleur pushed a piece of potato across her plate with the tip of her fork, her movements hesitant.
« Je ne suis pas sûre, » she said quietly. « Mais j'espère... Papillonlisse. »
(I'm not sure. But I hope... Papillonlisse.)
Jane's lips curved into a faint smile. Beside her, Margaux nodded once, slowly and with certainty.
« Papillonlisse. C'est une bonne maison pour toi, je pense. »
(Papillonlisse. I think that's a good house for you.)
« La meilleure, » Margaux added, spearing a piece of sausage.
(The best.)
Fleur looked up, and a flicker of relief crossed her face.
« Tu crois? »
(You think so?)
« Je le sais. »
(I know it.)
Nimue chewed her steak while watching the exchange, her green eyes moving from one face to another. After swallowing, she set down her fork and turned toward Fleur.
« Grande sœur. »
Fleur turned to face her.
« Je peux aller à l'école avec toi? »
(Can I go to school with you?)
The question caught everyone off guard. Jane's hand stopped halfway to the bread basket, while Jack paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Even Saoirse looked up from her third sausage, her eyebrows raised.
Jane turned toward her daughter. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she blinked. Under the table, her hand found Jack's thigh and gave it a sharp pinch.
Jack's expression went flat. He made no sound, but his jaw tightened, and his fingers curled firmly around the handle of his fork.
« Morwenna, » Jane said, keeping her voice carefully controlled. « Tu ne peux pas. »
(Morwenna, you can't.)
« Pourquoi? »
(Why?)
Saoirse wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned forward.
« Parce que tu es née en Grande-Bretagne, petit monstre. Ta première école, c'est Poudlard. C'est là que vont les sorciers et sorcières britanniques. »
(Because you were born in Britain, little monster. Your first school is Hogwarts. That's where British witches and wizards go.)
Nimue looked at Saoirse, then back at Fleur, her brow furrowing.
« Fleur est née en France. »
(Fleur was born in France.)
« Oui, » Saoirse replied. « Donc elle va à Beauxbâtons. C'est l'école française. »
(Yes. So she goes to Beauxbâtons. It's the French school.)
Nimue fell silent for a moment. She picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half with her small fingers.
« Alors je peux, si je veux? »
(So I can, if I want to?)
Jack rubbed his thigh beneath the table. Despite the lingering sting, his voice remained steady.
« Techniquement, tu peux. Tu pourrais choisir d'aller à Beauxbâtons. Mais tu dois quand même aller à Poudlard. »
(Technically, you can. You could choose to go to Beauxbâtons. But you still have to attend Hogwarts.)
Nimue frowned.
« Pourquoi? »
Jack set down his fork and turned toward his daughter, his expression growing more serious.
« La famille Keith est basée en Grande-Bretagne. La plupart de nos alliés et de notre famille proche sont là-bas. Tu es notre enfant unique. »
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
« Un jour, tu hériteras de ma position comme chef de famille. Ce sera très difficile pour toi si tu n'es pas proche des autres familles britanniques. »
(The Keith family is based in Britain. Most of our allies and close family are there. You are our only child. One day, you will inherit my position as Head of House. It will be very difficult for you if you aren't close to the other British families.)
Nimue stared at him, her green eyes wide and unblinking.
« Chef de famille? »
(Head of House?)
« Oui. Un jour. Dans très longtemps. »
(Yes. One day. A long time from now.)
She looked down at her plate, where the steak was slowly growing cold. Picking up her fork, she speared a piece of potato.
« Je réfléchirai. »
(I will think about it.)
Jane exhaled slowly. Beneath the table, she gave Jack's thigh one more pinch before finally letting go.
The conversation shifted naturally when Margaux reached for the bread basket and took out a piece of crusty baguette.
« Alors, parle-moi de Poudlard, » she said, looking toward Jack. « Je n'y ai jamais mis les pieds. C'est vrai qu'il y a un château qui bouge? »
(So, tell me about Hogwarts. I have never set foot there. Is it true there's a moving castle?)
Jack tore off a piece of bread and leaned back in his chair.
« Il ne bouge pas. Les escaliers, oui. Ils changent de direction selon l'heure, ou parfois juste parce qu'ils en ont envie. »
(The castle doesn't move. The stairs do. They change direction depending on the time of day, or sometimes just because they feel like it.)
Margaux laughed.
« Les escaliers ont des sentiments? »
(The stairs have feelings?)
« Apparemment. »
(Apparently.)
Margaux shook her head, her laughter bright in the warm kitchen. Jane picked up her fork but soon set it down again.
« Nimue. Tu veux savoir comment Poudlard répartit ses élèves? »
(Nimue. Do you want to know how Hogwarts sorts its students?)
Nimue turned toward her mother.
« Répartit? »
(Sorts?)
« Les met dans des maisons. Comme à Beauxbâtons. »
(Puts them into houses. Like at Beauxbâtons.)
Nimue nodded, her white hair shifting against her shoulders.
« Dis-moi. »
(Tell me.)
Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
« À Poudlard, c'est un chapeau qui fait la répartition. Un vieux chapeau, porté par les fondateurs il y a mille ans. Les élèves défilent un par un, et le chapeau annonce le nom de la maison à laquelle ils appartiennent. »
(At Hogwarts, a hat does the sorting. An old hat, worn by the founders a thousand years ago. The students line up one by one, and the hat announces the name of the house they belong to.)
« Un chapeau? »
(A hat?)
« Un vieux chapeau déchiré qui parle. Il s'assoit sur ta tête, regarde dans ton esprit, et décide dans quelle maison tu dois aller. »
(An old, ragged talking hat. It sits on your head, looks inside your mind, and decides which house you belong to.)
Nimue's eyes widened. She looked at Jack, then at Saoirse, before turning back to her father.
« Il regarde dans ma tête? »
(It looks inside my head?)
« Juste assez pour savoir où tu t'épanouiras le mieux. Il ne vole rien. Il lit seulement ce qui est déjà là. »
(Just enough to know where you will thrive. It doesn't steal anything. It only reads what is already there.)
Nimue pressed a hand to her forehead, as if checking that all her thoughts were still in place. Fleur watched her with a small, affectionate smile before taking another sip of water.
« Il y a quatre maisons, » Jack explained, holding up his fingers to count them. « Gryffondor valorise le courage et l'audace. Les braves, les téméraires, parfois les imprudents. La maison des lions. »
(There are four houses. Gryffindor values courage and nerve. The brave, the bold, and sometimes the reckless. The house of lions.)
« Imprudents? »
(Reckless?)
« Sauter d'abord, réfléchir après. »
(Jumping first and thinking later.)
Saoirse grinned and pointed her thumb at herself.
« Celle-là, c'est la mienne. »
(That one is mine.)
Nimue turned to look at her aunt.
« Toi? Gryffondor? »
(You? Gryffindor?)
« Moi. Gryffondor. » Saoirse sat a little straighter. « J'ai grimpé des montagnes où l'air était trop rare pour respirer. J'ai traversé des déserts seule. Je suis allée dans des endroits où d'autres auraient fait demi-tour. Ça, c'est Gryffondor. »
(Me. Gryffindor. I climbed mountains where the air was too thin to breathe. I crossed deserts alone. I went to places where other people would have turned back. That's Gryffindor.)
Nimue tilted her head.
« Papa dit que tu es chaotique. »
(Papa says you are chaotic.)
Saoirse's grin only grew wider.
« Ton père a raison. Mais je suis aussi courageuse. »
(Your father is right. But I'm also brave.)
Jack continued with the explanation.
« Poufsouffle valorise le travail acharné et la loyauté. Loyaux, patients et travailleurs. Ils ne recherchent pas la gloire. Ils se contentent de faire le travail qui doit être fait. Serdaigle valorise l'intelligence et l'esprit. Intelligents, curieux, attirés par le savoir pour lui-même. La maison des esprits brillants. »
(Hufflepuff values hard work and loyalty. Its members are loyal, patient, and hardworking. They don't seek glory. They simply do the work that needs to be done. Ravenclaw values intelligence and wit. Its members are clever, curious, and drawn to learning for its own sake. The house of bright minds.)
« Et Serpentard. » Jack paused briefly. « Valorise l'ambition et la tradition. Ambitieux, traditionalistes, rusés. Ils protègent les leurs et pensent à l'avenir. Ils comprennent que la magie n'est pas seulement un pouvoir, c'est un héritage. »
(And Slytherin values ambition and tradition. Its members are ambitious, traditional, and cunning. They protect their own and think ahead. They understand that magic isn't just power. It's a legacy.)
Nimue considered this before looking at him.
« Keith? »
« Oui. La plupart des Keith vont à Serpentard. Nous sommes traditionalistes. Nous avons des liens avec les serpents. Ça correspond. »
(Yes. Most Keiths are sorted into Slytherin. We are traditionalists. We have ties to serpents. It suits us.)
Nimue turned back to Saoirse, her brows drawing together.
« Et toi… Gryffondor? »
(And you... Gryffindor?)
There was a clear note of disbelief in her voice.
« Pas Serpentard? »
(Not Slytherin?)
Saoirse let out a quiet laugh, her black hair shifting over her shoulders.
« Non. »
Nimue continued staring at her, as if waiting for the answer to change or for her aunt to reveal that it had all been a joke.
« Notre famille a tendance à finir là-bas, je sais, » Saoirse continued, a faint grin tugging at her lips. « Mais le chapeau m'a regardée et a vu quelqu'un qui préférerait grimper une montagne plutôt que de rester assise dans une bibliothèque. Quelqu'un qui préférerait se battre plutôt que de manigancer. » She shrugged. « Il m'a mise là où j'appartenais. »
(I know our family tends to end up there. But the hat looked at me and saw someone who would rather climb a mountain than sit in a library. Someone who would rather fight than scheme. It put me where I belonged.)
« Et ça ne pose pas de problème? » Nimue asked. (And that's not a problem?)
« Pour la famille? » Saoirse shook her head. « Non. Père s'y attendait. Avec ce que j'étais enfant, il savait que je pourrais ne pas finir à Serpentard. Ça ne lui a jamais posé problème. »
(For the family? No. Father expected it. Given what I was like as a child, he knew I might not end up in Slytherin. It never bothered him.)
She shrugged again and fixed her gaze on Nimue.
« Le choix de la maison ne définit pas tes priorités. Il montre plutôt le chemin qui te correspond. Celui qui suit ta personnalité, tes valeurs les plus marquées. Celui qui t'aide à devenir la sorcière ou le sorcier que tu veux être, ou celui qui te convient le mieux. »
(The choice of house doesn't define your priorities. Instead, it shows the path that suits you. The one that reflects your personality and your strongest values. The one that helps you become the witch or wizard you want to be, or simply the one that fits you best.)
Nimue thought about this for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly and turned to Jane.
« Et les Evans? »
Jane set down her fork and met her daughter's green eyes.
« La plupart des Evans vont à Papillonlisse. C'est la maison française de l'élégance et de l'intellect. Le papillon. Nous valorisons la précision, la créativité et la façon de nous présenter. Comme la plupart des Keith vont à Serpentard. C'est la même chose, juste des noms différents. »
(Most Evans are sorted into Papillonlisse. It's the French house of elegance and intellect. The butterfly. We value precision, creativity, and the way we present ourselves. Just as most Keiths are sorted into Slytherin. It's the same thing, just with different names.)
« Comme toi? » (Like you?)
« Comme moi. Comme ta grand-mère. Comme la plupart de notre lignée. » (Like me. Like your grandmother. Like most of our family line.)
Margaux dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
« La plupart des Vélanes vont aussi à Papillonlisse. » (Most Veela are also sorted into Papillonlisse.)
Nimue turned to look at her.
« Pourquoi? »
Margaux set her napkin aside.
« Papillonlisse valorise la grâce, l'intellect et la présence. Les Vélanes portent ces qualités naturellement : le charme, le calme, la façon dont ils se déplacent dans une pièce. »
(Papillonlisse values grace, intellect, and presence. Veela possess these qualities naturally: their allure, their composure, and the way they move through a room.)
She gestured toward Fleur with her chin.
« Tu crois qu'elle a appris ça? C'est dans son sang. Papillonlisse est l'endroit où cette magie appartient. »
(You think she learned that? It's in her blood. Papillonlisse is where that kind of magic belongs.)
Fleur's cheeks turned pink, and she lowered her gaze to her plate. Nimue watched the color rise in the older girl's face. She said nothing, but her eyes softened.
« Leur magie est liée à ça, à la façon dont on les voit, à l'influence discrète qu'ils exercent, » Margaux added. « Papillonlisse leur apprend à maîtriser ces traits, à les polir pour qu'ils deviennent délibérés. Une Vélane qui ne contrôle pas son propre charme est dangereuse pour elle-même. Papillonlisse enseigne le contrôle. »
(Their magic is tied to those things: how people see them and the quiet influence they exert. Papillonlisse teaches them to master these traits and refine them into something deliberate. A Veela who can't control her own allure is dangerous to herself. Papillonlisse teaches control.)
Fleur listened quietly, her blue eyes moving between the adults. Margaux continued.
« Il y a trois maisons à Beauxbâtons. Papillonlisse est l'une d'elles. Les autres sont Bellefeuille et Ombrelune. »
(There are three houses at Beauxbâtons. Papillonlisse is one of them. The others are Bellefeuille and Ombrelune.)
« Bellefeuille, » Jane explained, « est pour les cœurs chaleureux. Les loyaux. Ceux qui prennent soin des autres. Les guérisseurs, les herboristes, ceux qui te nourrissent avant de demander ton nom. Ta tante et ton oncle du côté de maman, Raphaël et Luelle, sont à Bellefeuille. »
(Bellefeuille is for the warm-hearted and the loyal. Those who care for others. Healers, herbologists, and people who feed you before asking your name. Your aunt and uncle on Mama's side, Raphaël and Luelle, belong to Bellefeuille.)
« Et Ombrelune? » (And Ombrelune?)
Jane glanced at Jack before looking back at Nimue.
« Ombrelune est pour ceux qui marchent dans l'ombre. Les curieux. Ceux qui posent les questions que les autres évitent. Les briseurs de maléfices, les ritualistes, ceux qui étudient ce qui est caché. »
(Ombrelune is for those who walk in the shadows. The curious ones. Those who ask questions others avoid. Curse-breakers, ritualists, and those who study what is hidden.)
She leaned forward slightly.
« Tu veux savoir comment Beauxbâtons répartit ses élèves? »
(Do you want to know how Beauxbâtons sorts its students?)
Nimue and Fleur exchanged a glance before eagerly nodding.
« Ça prend trois jours, » Jane explained. « Les nouveaux élèves parcourent les couloirs, regardent les maisons, mangent avec tout le monde. Ils ne portent pas encore d'insigne de maison. Le troisième soir, ils se tiennent devant le Grand Conseil. Trois portraits, un pour chaque maison. Les portraits leur parlent. Leur disent ce qu'ils voient. »
(It takes three days. The new students walk through the halls, observe the houses, and eat with everyone. They don't wear a house badge yet. On the third evening, they stand before the Grand Council. There are three portraits, one for each house. The portraits speak to them and tell them what they see.)
« Et ensuite? »
« Ensuite, l'élève choisit. » (Then the student chooses.)
Nimue blinked.
« Choisit? »
« Les portraits conseillent. Ils ne commandent pas. » Jane picked up her fork again. « L'élève peut être d'accord avec le premier portrait, ou demander à entendre un autre. Mais à la fin, ils franchissent la porte qu'ils croient être la leur. »
(The portraits advise. They don't command. The student can agree with the first portrait or ask to hear from another. But in the end, they walk through the door they believe is right for them.)
Nimue turned to Fleur.
« Et toi, tu veux Papillonlisse. » (And you want Papillonlisse.)
Fleur nodded.
« Oui. »
Nimue reached over and gently patted Fleur's hand.
« C'est bien. »
Fleur looked down at the small hand resting on hers, and a gentle smile curved her lips.
The rest of the meal became much livelier. Saoirse told a story about a goat that had chased her down a mountain in Switzerland, and Margaux laughed so hard she nearly choked on her bread.
Nimue paid little attention to the story. She finished her potatoes and pushed her plate slightly toward the center of the table. Just then, Cinder's nose appeared over the edge, sniffing the air.
« Non. »
Nimue said it firmly, and the fox's nose disappeared at once.
Fleur watched the exchange with her fork suspended halfway to her mouth. A small sound escaped her, somewhere between a breath and a laugh.
Nimue looked at her.
« Quoi? » (What?)
« Rien. » (Nothing.)
Nimue studied her face for a moment, then nodded and turned back to the table.
Jane asked Fleur about her schooling so far, and the girl explained that she shared a small private tutor with two other children.
« Il est strict, » Fleur said. « Mais il connaît ses sujets. »
(He is strict, but he knows his subjects.)
« Strict, c'est bien, » Jack replied. « Strict veut dire que tu apprends. »
(Strict is good. Strict means you are actually learning.)
He asked whether the tutor taught French history or magical history. Fleur explained that she studied both, though she preferred the magical lessons because the dates were much easier to remember. Saoirse laughed at that. Fleur blushed again, but she was clearly smiling.
Nimue finished her steak and pushed her plate away. She was full, and the warmth of the food settled comfortably in her stomach. She leaned against Fleur's arm, resting her head in the same spot she had found earlier in the bedroom. Fleur didn't move away.
Once the plates had been cleared and the last piece of bread eaten, Nimue sat up and turned to her new friend.
« Tu veux t'asseoir sur le canapé ou retourner dans ma chambre? »
(Do you want to sit on the sofa or go back to my room?)
Fleur glanced toward Margaux, who was busy carrying plates to the sink. Her aunt noticed the look and gave her a small, encouraging nod.
« Ta chambre. »
(Your room.)
Nimue slid off her chair and held out her hand. Fleur took it, and the two girls walked down the hallway together, with Cinder padding along behind them. His claws clicked softly against the parquet floor.