The letter Fila had written had been sent just yesterday, and yet. Now she sat with a response letter in her hand during breakfast.
Theo had answered quickly, maybe because he was still visiting Britain and it's closer. But he wanted to come and visit her in France, if he could. Right now his family had a lot of relatives visiting and they chose Britain as their meeting ground. Leaving such a situation would prove difficult. Even for the master escape thunderbird.
Fila hadn't written the important detail that she is now a part Rosier, thinking they would find out soon enough anyway.
Fila tapped the edge of the parchment against her lip, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. Leave it to Theo to be trapped in the middle of a massive family reunion in the dreariest weather possible. The mental image of him trying to dodge a small army of aunts and uncles was highly entertaining.
Across the breakfast table, Evan was reading the morning post, while Vinda was elegantly slicing a piece of fruit. The morning sun was pouring in through the tall conservatory windows, making the silver on the table gleam.
"You look amused, Little Flower," Evan noted, not looking up from his paper. "Did your friend from the rainy islands finally write back?"
"Yeah, Theo did," Fila said, setting the letter down next to her plate. "He wants to come visit, but he is currently trapped at a family reunion in England. He called himself a master escape artist, but apparently, even he cannot wiggle out of this one."
Vinda looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the warm sunlight. "A family reunion? Family is important, of course, but it can certainly be... exhausting. What is his family name, dear?"
"Carter, his family is American. But they are meeting in Britain." She added.
Vinda's fork paused in the air for just a heartbeat before she continued. Her expression didn't change, but her sharp eyes flickered with a quiet, analytical focus.
"Carter," Vinda repeated softly, her tone perfectly polite. "I see. An American family. Well, whether they are an old lineage or not, escaping a gathering of relatives takes real skill. If he manages to make the journey across the channel, he is more than welcome here. It would be interesting to see what kind of boy holds the attention of a Rosier."
Fila felt a slight warmth rise to her cheeks and quickly took a sip of her coffee. Evan let out a low, amused chuckle from behind his newspaper.
"Don't tease her, Mother," Evan said, though his eyes were dancing with mischief when he lowered the paper. "But he is right about one thing. Escaping a pureblood family gathering takes real skill. If he makes it to Paris, I might have to test his reflexes myself."
Fila rolled her eyes playfully. "Please do not blast my friend off any dueling platforms, Evan."
"No promises," Evan grinned.
Fila thought of something, is he could get to her. She could get to him.
"Would it be stupid of me to go to Britain?" she asked.
The problem weren't the country of the ministry, but the damn death eaters who seems to want her head for some unknown reason, even Evan couldn't understand the need to have her removed.
Vinda seemed to think about to for some time, and Evan likewise.
"I think it's a good idea." Evan said finally and Vinda Smile as she had thorught the same thing. "You are a Rosier and not just that a Grindelwald. to show your face in Britain even after the tried to murder you and go after you, that would show face."
Vinda nodded. "I think it's a good idea, risky. But we can handle some risk management."
Fila beamed with joy, she would get to see Theo. And not just that, but Britain.
"Grandmother, the blacks." She began after suddenly remembering that she has relatives on that side of the channel too. "Do I meet with them, I mean Narcissa."
Vinda just shrugged her shoulders. "Do as you please. They certainly haven't made an effort to meet you"
With Vinda saying that Fila understood her, even with her being kind of known now, or at least to the people who wanted to know. They hadn't made any attempt to contact her or meet. But the same went for her.
Fila decided to let it go and just go with what happens. Her Grandfather had also told her that the Malfoys had been involved with the death eaters, the very people who are trying to off her. Meeting them maybe wouldn't be the best thing.
Fila nodded, feeling a swell of pride. She did not need to chase after a family that ignored her, especially when she was sitting at a table with people who had accepted her fiercely.
"I agree," Fila said firmly, setting her coffee cup down. "I am going to see Theo, and I am going to see London. If the Malfoys or the Blacks want to meet me, they can figure out where I am staying and ask for an audience."
Evan let out a barking laugh, looking incredibly proud. "That is the spirit, Little Flower! Let them do the legwork."
Vinda smiled warmly, her sharp eyes reflecting a deep approval. "Very well spoken, Ophelia. You will travel to the UK as a free agent of the House of Rosier. We will arrange for a discreet but highly capable guard to accompany you, and we will find a neutral, incredibly secure location for you to stay in London. You can meet your friend Theo there without anyone breathing down your neck."
Evan clapped his hands together, "When do you wish to depart?" his head already planning everything out.
"Theo said he could make some time the 28th through 31th of July." Fila said as she reed the letter once more to confirm what she just said.
Evan hummed, tapping his fingers against the polished wood of the breakfast table. "The end of July. That gives us exactly two weeks. Perfect. That is plenty of time to get your travel papers in order and, more importantly, get you ready."
"And it is a rather poetic time to arrive," Vinda mused, her sharp eyes sparkling with a quiet, knowing amusement. "The British wizarding world will be exceptionally busy around then. Children flocking to London to do their school shopping, parents bustling about Diagon Alley... It will be incredibly easy for you to blend into a crowd if you wish, or to stand out."
Fila smiled, thinking about the bustling streets Fleur had described in Paris and wondering how London's hidden magical district would compare.
After finishing her breakfast she sat in the garden again, this had become routine for her. Trying to get better with listening to her flowers. Right now the sounds she heard were a mess of everything and nothing, she could only focus on the things important to her for a short time.
Making the sounds only important to her filter through this chaos of everything she heard. It's a challenge. One that she welcomed.
Fila closed her eyes, resting her hands on the warm grass.
Instantly, the flood of vibrations rushed into her mind. The bustling streets of Place Cachée far off in the distance, the wind rattling through the iron gates of the manor, the rustle of Vinda's dress as she walked along the stone path, and the deep, steady hum of the massive oak tree standing guard at the corner of the property.
It was a beautiful, chaotic symphony of life, but it was incredibly loud.
She needed a filter. She needed to be able to find a specific frequency and tune out everything else, just like turning the dial on a radio.
Sitting and listening to everything wasn't a good way to start the day she soon realized. And not just that but the type of things she heard, well she wouldn't like to hear them anymore. So with determination to get unnecessary sounds away she dove deeper.
Fila exhaled slowly, pushing past the top layer of sensory input. She was tired of hearing the idle gossip of the city streets and the mundane clatter of the manor servants. If she was going to survive walking right into the lions' den in Britain, she needed to be able to detect real danger, not just white noise.
She visualized her mind as a massive iron gate, slowly closing against the outside world until only a narrow slit remained.
Not the wind, she commanded silently. Not the people. Not the birds.
The bright, chaotic yellow threads of city noise began to fade, turning a dull, quiet grey. The scattered blue lines of the wind died down until they were nothing more than a faint background hum. She kept tightening the grip on her own magic, forcing the flowers to look past the superficial vibrations and seek out the specific resonance she needed.
She focused on a thick cluster of vibrant lavender bushes growing near the stone wall that bordered the property.
Show me movement, she thought, pouring her intent into the soil. But only movement that doesn't belong here.
For a long, agonizing minute, there was nothing but static. Her head began to throb from the sheer effort of holding the massive network of nature at bay. But then, as she pushed her magic to its absolute limit, a vibration hit her palms.
It wasn't a gardener's heavy boots, and it wasn't Vinda's light, steady tapping. It was a rapid, erratic fluttering that moved from the perimeter wall directly toward the center of the garden.
Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Fila narrowed her focus, extending her mental thread to trace the creature's path. It was small. Light. It stopped abruptly, then darted forward again in a jagged line, entirely out of sync with the normal, steady rhythms of the manor grounds.
She opened her eyes and looked exactly where the vibration had stopped.
Hiding beneath a large green leaf of a hosta plant was a tiny, brightly colored garden gnome. It was staring back at her with wide, beady eyes, frozen in mid-stride.
A brilliant, triumphant grin broke across Fila's face. She hadn't just accidentally stumbled onto a sound; she had deliberately ignored everything else and hunted down a specific, moving target that was trying to stay hidden.
She wasn't just filtering noise anymore. She was officially learning how to track.
But now, a garden gnome? She looked at it for a while before it hastily walked back into the bushes. She should be surprised, but she can listen to things flowers hear so nothing should surprise her anymore.
She stood up and stretched, the clock had ticked longer than she thought and it had already reached midday.
The morning had slipped away entirely while she was lost in the greenery, but the sense of accomplishment warming her chest made the time skip worth it. She was no longer just a spectator to the noise; she was becoming the conductor.
As she brushed the stray blades of grass and bits of soil from her dress, she realized her stomach was letting out a small protest. Concentrating that hard on magical threads was hungry work.
"Mipsy." Fila called out into the air. And with a little poff, the house elf appeared.
"Yes Ophelia?" Mipsy said in her cute little voice.
Mipsy had always wanted to help, Fila knew it was in their blood to "Serve" their owners. It felt a little wrong but Vinda had said that these little creatures wouldn't know what to do if they were free. Keeping them here would actually help them, even if it didn't seem like it.
"Could I get something to eat?" Fila said as she patted the elf's little head.
Mipsy beamed, "Of course, right away." And with a snap of her fingers she disappeared.
Fila smiled as the small elf vanished. She still felt that tiny, lingering twinge of hesitation whenever she ordered the house-elves around. It was a massive contrast to the life she had known before, but Vinda's words always echoed in the back of her mind. They were a part of this ancient world, and for now, Fila was just trying to find her footing in it.
The food Mipsy brought had been just what Fila needed.
Instead of a heavy meal, the tray was arranged with a perfect, light French spread. There was a freshly baked baguette with a crisp, golden crust, a small wedge of creamy Brie cheese, and a few slices of cured jambon. To finish it off, Mipsy had included a small cluster of green grapes and a tiny, delicate lemon tartlet.
Eating outside in the warm Parisian sun made the simple meal feel incredibly luxurious. It was simple, fresh, and absolutely delicious.
As she finished the last bite of her tartlet, Fila wiped her hands on a linen napkin and stood up. The fatigue from her morning mental exercise was already starting to fade, replaced by a restless, buzzing energy. She had two weeks before her feet touched British soil, and she was determined not to waste a single afternoon.
She walked back toward the stone terrace of the main manor house, spotting Evan leaning against the balustrade. He had a green apple in his hand and was watching the guards patrol the perimeter with a critical eye. He looked up and gave her a lazy wave.
"There you are," Evan called out. "I was about to send a search party to find you. You have been out there for hours. Did the flowers tell you any good gossip, or did you just take a very long nap in the grass?"
Fila scoffed, "I wish. But no, I need some training." She said, the hint was the he would help her but she didn't say it outright.
Evan gave a low, appreciative whistle, tossing his apple core into a nearby stone urn with practiced accuracy. He pushed himself off the balustrade, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face that told Fila she had just volunteered for something intense.
"Now that is what I like to hear," Evan said, rolling up his sleeves. "A Rosier who actually wants to get her hands dirty. No need to drop hints, Little Flower. If you want to train, I am more than happy to oblige."
They moved towards the dueling platform placed in the back of the garden. It was big, perfect for training.
"Alright, I want you to be purely defensive this time, block, evade and counter spell. Got that?" he asked as he took his position at the other side of the ring.
Fila nodded, the last lingering traces of her light lunch forgotten as her focus narrowed entirely on her uncle. She stepped onto the cool, smooth stone of the platform, the weight of her wand in her hand instantly making her feel more grounded.
"Purely defensive. Block, evade, counter. Got it," she repeated, squaring her shoulders.
"Good," Evan said, his voice dropping its teasing edge and becoming sharp, professional, and entirely focused. He didn't wait for her to get comfortable. He snapped his wrist, sending a bright red streak of a standard expelliarmus flying straight at her chest.
Fila didn't even have to think. Her body reacted on instinct, a shield charm ripping from the tip of her wand.
Protego!
The red spark slammed into the invisible barrier with a sharp crack, dissipating into nothing.
"Too slow on the draw, Little Flower," Evan called out, already circling to her left.
Maybe just trust instincts.
She let her eyes follow his movements. Each arm twitch she noticed. And when his wand started moving towards her she reacted.
His spell shot out and she side stepped out of the way, countering with a stupefy.
"Good!" he said with a smile. "Trust your gut, and you will be unstoppable."
Evan didn't let up. The moment Fila's counter-spell streaked toward him, he deflected it with a casual flick of his wrist, sending the red spark harmlessly into the grass. He was already rotating his shoulder, preparing for another volley.
"Now let's see how you handle a chain!" Evan called out.
He slashed his wand through the air in a tight figure-eight. Two spells flew at her in rapid succession: a bright blue impedance jinx followed immediately by a violet tripping jinx.
Fila held her ground. Instead of panicking at the sight of the double threat, she kept her eyes locked on his wand tip, just as he taught her. She read the angle of the first shot and ducked low, letting the blue light buzz right over her head.
As the second spell came racing in low to catch her ankles, she pushed off the stone. Her boots clicked against the platform as she executed a sharp, mid-air pivot to the right.
Landing lightly on the balls of her feet, she felt the vibrations of the stone ground singing through her legs. She didn't hesitate. She whipped her wand forward and sent a localized impedimenta right at his feet, aiming to slow down his aggressive pacing.
Evan had to halt his forward momentum abruptly to shield against her counter, his boots sliding a few inches on the smooth stone.
He let out a barking laugh, dropping his wand to his side as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Perfect! You read the wand, trusted your eyes, and used your feet to get out of the way rather than wasting energy on a bulky shield. That is exactly the kind of agile combat you are going to need if things get messy in London."
He walked over to the edge of the platform and grabbed a towel from a nearby stone bench, tossing it around his neck. "You have got the instincts down, Little Flower. I would say you are ready for a quick breather."
"Uncle, I would like to use my flowers more." She said.
Evan raised and eyebrow, he hadn't seen what she could actually do more than just make them move and hear from them.
"Alright lets see what you can do, this time you will be the attacker and I defend." Evan said as he stepped back to his position.
Fila put her wand back into her sleeve, she didn't need it for her flowers.
Evan's eyes widened in genuine curiosity when he saw her slide her wand away. He shifted his stance, holding his own wand a bit more cautiously now.
"Going wandless? Bold move, Little Flower. Let's see it," he said, though he didn't drop his guard for a second.
Fila waved her hand, and faster than what he could ever evade. Two sharp vines rushed towards him from right and left.
Evan had less than a heartbeat to react. The vines did not move like normal, slow-creeping plants; they were a blur of green, fueled by Fila's raw, instinctual magic. They whipped through the air with a faint whistle that sounded more like a spell than a plant.
Evan's eyes went wide. He didn't even have time to shout a incantation. Relying on sheer duelist reflexes, he threw himself backward, executing a desperate, ungraceful backflip to avoid being ensnared.
The two sharp vines slammed together with a loud thwack right where his chest had been a split second before.
He landed heavily on his feet at the very edge of the dueling platform, his boots skidding on the smooth stone. His wand was raised, but his breathing was suddenly ragged. He stared at the spot where the vines were now retreating, and then looked over at Fila.
A slow, breathless laugh escaped him as he lowered his wand.
"Alright," Evan said, running a hand through his hair, which was now sticking up in several directions. "That... was fast. Much faster than I expected. No incantation, no wand movement, and absolutely no warning. If I hadn't spent the last five years dodging dark curses for a living, you would have had me pinned like a butterfly to a board."
But Fila didn't let up, from the ground a root wrapped around his right foot to hold him in place.
"What the…" he said but finally reacted to what was happening. He ducked his head as one of the vines from before had rushed towards him. And with the first one dodged he looked for the other. But too late.
The second vine had stopped just before his eye, standing still and showing that it could continue.
Evan stood completely frozen, his eyes locked on the sharp, green tip hovering mere inches from his face. He didn't dare to blink. The silence that stretched across the garden was heavy, broken only by the soft, distant rustle of leaves and his own quick, shallow breaths.
A slow, highly impressed smile spread across his face. He lowered his wand completely, letting it hang loosely by his side.
"Merlin's beard," Evan breathed out, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "I yield. I definitely yield."
Fila smiled, a wave of pride warming her chest. With a casual flick of her wrist, she released her mental grip on the plants. The vine threatening his eye pulled back in a smooth, fluid motion, curling harmlessly toward the edge of the platform. The thick root holding his foot in place shrank back down into the earth, disappearing beneath the smooth stone as if it had never been there.
Evan took a step forward, testing his freed foot, and shook his head in absolute disbelief. "That was incredible, Fila. Fast, ruthless, and completely silent. Wizards are trained to listen for incantations and look for wand tips. They do not expect the very ground they are standing on to suddenly rebel and grab them."
He walked over to the edge of the platform, leaning heavily against the stone balustrade to catch his breath.
"Where did you learn all this.?" he asked.
Fila thought how to even answer this. "A lot of dummies at school." She just answered. Telling him everything maybe wouldn't hurt, but she didn't feel like doing that right now.
"Little leaf. This ability you have is… incredible." He began, still watching the vines that now withered away on the ground. "Your normal spells need some training yes. But this, I dare say you are a master at it."
He looked back to Ophelia.
"Can you do more?" he said cursorily.
She nodded. "I can show you Bob." And while she was saying it, a rumble could be felt in the ground and Evans eyes widened.
As the ground slip open and a hand reached out to pull itself up from the soil it had been buried in.
And now before him stood a three meter tall tree golem, its eyes dark blue like its caster.
Evan looked up upon the golem with wide eyes, "SO this is Bob…"
Fila nodded. "He's sensitive so don't make jokes about him."
Bob let out a low hum in agreement. Bob had been with Fila for awhile now, ever since she had been cursed by Amanda she refused to be alone in quiet places. So bob often weren't far away. Like when she stood by the lake and Fontaine came to talk with her, Bob stood in the forest line keeping watch.
Bob looked at Fila, who in return gave him a thumbs up.
Evan walked around the golem several times, tapping it with his wand and knocking on him. Bob didn't look too pleased about this but Fila told him to just deal with it for now.
Evan took a step back, finally ceasing his inspection of Bob's wooden exterior. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking completely delighted by the giant standing in the middle of the training area.
"Sensitive, is he? Well, my apologies, Bob. No offense intended. You are a remarkably sturdy fellow," Evan said, throwing a mock salute to the golem. Bob let out another low, vibrating hum that made the leaves of a nearby bush tremble.
Evan turned his attention back to Fila, his expression shifting from amusement to pure strategic admiration. "You are full of surprises."
She gave him a little smile.
The two parted ways and Fila wanted to talk with her grandmother.
Vinda sat in her office looking through some paper when Fila stepped inside.
"everything alright Ophelia?" she asked without looking up from one of her papers.
Fila sat down in one of the armchair in front of her desk, "Yes, everything is alright."
Vinda finally set her quill down and looked up, her dark eyes scanning Fila with that characteristic, razor sharp perception. A small, elegant smile touched her lips as she took in the faint traces of dirt on Fila's dress and the lingering flush of adrenaline on her cheeks.
"I take it your training session with Evan was successful then," Vinda noted, leaning back slightly in her chair. "You look energized, if a bit windswept."
"It was," Fila admitted, letting a bit of her pride show. "I managed to catch him off guard. Wandless."
Vinda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Wandless? That is no small feat against Evan. He has a great deal of practical experience."
"I used the ivy and the rose bushes," Fila explained, leaning forward slightly. "And I showed him Bob. He was pretty surprised."
At the mention of the massive golem, Vinda's expression softened just a fraction with genuine intrigue. "Ah, your towering forest guardian. Yes, I imagine that would give even the most seasoned duelist pause. It is a remarkable gift you have, Ophelia. To command nature with such intuition is rare. Many spend lifetimes trying to achieve with complex spells what you do by simply asking."
The two looked at each other for a while before speaking again, the clock against the right wall had been the only thing breaking the silence against the two.
"Are you bored, Ophelia?" Vinda asked
"Yes." Fila said immediately
Fila thought this would upset her grandmother, but no. she instead found her grandmother laughing. Which made her feel, predictable.
Vinda waved her hand. "Im sorry dear. Its just you are so much like your mother." She stood up and walked towards a cabinet, it opened silently and Vinda picked out a ledger. "This here, is a album of pictures with your mother. Everything from her first day at Beauxbatons, to her last day. Even a picture of her at a event and she picked out this beautiful deep blue dress."
Vinda held the album out towards Ophelia. She didn't hesitate and started looking through it.
The first page showed a moving photograph of a young girl, looking incredibly like Fila, standing in front of the sweeping blue carriages of Beauxbatons. She was waving enthusiastically at the camera, her laugh silent but bright. Fila's heart squeezed at the sight.
She turned the pages slowly, drinking in every image. There were pictures of her mother studying in the library with friends, practicing spells with a concentrated frown, and laughing on the school grounds. It was like looking at a mirror of a life she was only just beginning to understand.
Then, she found the picture Vinda had mentioned.
It was a full page photograph of her mother at what looked like a grand gala. She was wearing a stunning, floor length dress of the deepest midnight blue that seemed to shimmer like the night sky whenever she moved. Her hair was swept up elegantly, and she was smiling directly at the camera with a look of pure, infectious joy.
"She was beautiful," Fila whispered, her thumb gently tracing the edge of the moving photograph.
"She was magnificent," Vinda corrected softly, walking over to stand by the window. The sunlight caught the older woman's sharp features, softening them just a fraction. "And just as restless as you are when forced to sit still. She always had to be moving, learning, or getting her hands into something."
Vinda turned back to Fila, her expression returning to its usual composed, aristocratic calm, though a lingering warmth remained in her dark eyes.
"Keep the album, Ophelia. It belongs with you," Vinda said gently.
Fila looked at the pictures more and more, and noticed her mothers hair. She had it mores styled and in different ways all the time, ponytails, buns, messy buns and this made Fila want to do something about her hair. She mostly kept it the same all the time. either let down or in a tail. Why not spice it up.
"Grandma, im going to the hair dresser." She said suddenly and left the room.
Vinda sat in her chair and chuckled, she knew exactly what was happening.
She headed straight for the fireplace in the main hall. Grabbing a pinch of shimmering Floo powder, she tossed it into the flames.
"Place Cachée!" she called out clearly.
With a rush of green fire, she was swept away, stepping out moments later into the bustling, artistic heart of magical Paris. The streets were alive with the smell of fresh pastries, the chatter of elegant witches and wizards, and the vibrant colors of enchanted storefronts.
She didn't have to look far. Tucked between a high end wand boutique and a café was a salon with a polished black storefront and gold lettering that read: Salon de l'Étoile.
When Fila pushed open the heavy glass door, a small silver bell chimed softly. The air inside smelled of expensive botanical oils, rosewater, and a faint, ozone spark of styling magic.
A tall, flamboyant wizard with incredibly sharp cheekbones and hair that seemed to slowly shift through shades of sunset orange strutted over. He wore a set of impeccably tailored plum robes.
"Ah! Bonjour, mademoiselle!" he gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as he looked her over with a critical, artistic eye. "Welcome! I am Jean Luc. You have come to the right place. Your hair... it has such raw, beautiful potential, but it is crying out for a vision! What are we doing today? Are we trimming, are we styling, or are we creating a masterpiece?"
Fila sat down in the plush, floating velvet chair he gestured to, looking at her reflection in the grand, gilded mirror.
"I want my hair cut slightly, and I want to color a white strand into my hair." She wanted to have a bit of Grindelwald showing.
Jean blinked while observing her hair. And gave a slow nod. "Oui,"
Working with a pair of delicate silver shears that hummed a soft, melodic tune, he trimmed her long tresses just slightly, cleaning up the ends to give her natural straight hair a fresh, healthy bounce. It wasn't a drastic change in length, but the cut made her hair look instantly more polished and deliberate.
Next came the color. Jean Luc carefully sectioned out a thick strand of hair right by her left temple. Instead of using messy chemical dyes, he applied a shimmering, pearlescent paste with the tip of his wand. The air filled with the faint, pleasant scent of vanilla as the deep strands transformed instantly into a stark, clean white that looked like spun silver.
Finally, with a flourish, he misted her hair with a lightweight magical tonic to hold the style.
"Step back and behold!" Jean Luc gasped dramatically, spinning her chair around to face the grand mirror. "We have taken the classic look and given it a brilliant edge."
Fila looked at her reflection. Her hair was still wonderfully familiar, but that single, bold strand of white falling against her face changed everything. To anyone else, it was just a chic, modern color choice. But to her, it was a quiet, private acknowledgment of the blood running through her veins.
"I love it," Fila smiled, running her fingers through the fresh cut. "Thank you for the help Jean."
"It was an absolute pleasure, mon chéri!" Jean Luc beamed, placing a dramatic hand over his heart as he watched her admire the contrast. "A touch of brilliant silver to cut through the dark. You wear it beautifully!"
Fila paid the wizard a generous amount of Galleons, adding a little extra for his prompt and silent understanding of what she wanted, and stepped back out into the bustling streets of Place Cachée.
The afternoon sun of Paris was warm against her skin. She reached up, running her fingers through her freshly trimmed locks, feeling the weight of the dark hair and the light texture of the new white strand falling near her left eye. It felt right. It felt like she was carrying a piece of her history out in the open, even if only she knew the true weight behind that color.
She walked past a small open air café, the rich scent of roasting coffee beans and buttery croissants filling the air. She felt a surge of confident, restless energy buzzing in her chest. There were still two weeks left before she had to be in London to meet Theo. Two weeks to finish her training, pack her bags, and mentally prepare for whatever the British wizarding world decided to throw at her.