Her birth father died far from home; her birth mother was neither seen alive nor found dead. Fortunately, at least her grandmother was still alive—otherwise, Eda's fate might as well have been that of a cursed lone star.
Vinda had never discovered what exactly happened to Louis in Britain. Why Eda appeared at the doorstep of an orphanage, why Jessica disappeared without a trace, why Louis died so suddenly without leaving behind a single clue—none of it could be explained.
All anyone could do was speculate based on his uninjured corpse and the events happening in the British Isles at the time. Vinda believed that most likely someone had discovered Louis's identity as a wizard and learned of his marriage to a Muggle.
Those two facts alone would have been enough to draw deadly attention. The ones who hunted Louis were most likely Death Eaters.
And the vast majority of Death Eaters were pure-bloods—among them the British branch of the Rosier family, Louis's own relatives.
But that was only the old woman's speculation. No one would ever stand up and admit to murder, especially when doing so might invite Vinda's revenge. Death Eaters weren't fools—who would willingly shoulder such a thankless crime?
From that day on, Eda lived in this house frozen in the style of the 1920s and 1930s.
She now had her own private suite, and even an enormous dressing room. For the first time, she experienced what it was like to live as a wealthy witch.
Neither grandmother nor granddaughter ever brought up Louis and Jessica again—those memories were filled only with pain.
Each morning, Eda helped Vinda walk around the residential district. In the evenings, the two sat together and talked about amusing things from Eda's school life.
Eda only shared the good and not the bad. Unless Vinda asked directly, the dangerous parts were left unsaid. Many of Eda's secrets she never revealed to her grandmother. Just as Dumbledore had said, some things didn't need to be known by everyone.
Vinda's house stood right next to the famed Champs-Élysées. During the daytime, Eda would wander along the avenue or stroll over to France's version of "Diagon Alley," which wasn't far from there.
Compared to the Diagon Alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, this place was more like a bustling crossroads of shopping districts. At the intersection lay a sizable brick-paved plaza.
Besides the main shopping streets running east–west and north–south, a number of crooked, narrow alleyways branched off diagonally, leading to more obscure shops.
Whether in the Muggle world or the wizarding world, Paris truly deserved its title as the capital of fashion.
Before long, Eda's enormous walk-in wardrobe was packed full—many of the clothes, shoes, and hats inside had been custom-made at Vinda's request. Eda finally experienced the thrill of buying things without ever needing to look at the price tag.
In this world, there were always people fated to inherit wealth simply because they failed at working hard—and now Eda was one of them.
The joy of recovering what she'd lost made Vinda Rosier somewhat indulgent. Anything Eda so much as paused to look at, Vinda would purchase without hesitation, embodying the very essence of extravagance.
Galleons might not mend over a decade of missing affection, but shopping was undeniably delightful!
While grandmother and granddaughter reveled in their reunion, the Rosier family as a whole was far from pleased. Even if Vinda had faded from prominence due to age, word that the Rosiers now had a half-blood among them still spread like wildfire.
Within just a few days, the Rosier name had become a joke among the pureblood families. The thing they had always feared had finally come to pass.
That afternoon, Eda did something rare—she stayed indoors instead of going out, dutifully writing a letter back to the twins, telling them all about her life in Paris.
From their reply, she learned that the Weasley family had won The Daily Prophet Grand Prize—an astonishing 700 Galleons. In a moment of generosity, Mr. Weasley decided to spend the winnings on a family trip to Egypt, killing two birds with one stone by visiting his eldest son Bill, who worked there.
Tucked inside the twins' letter was a newspaper clipping featuring a photograph of the entire Weasley family. The off-white Garlon was in the picture as well; the twins had clearly been overfeeding it—it looked noticeably plumper than before.
While Eda had been enjoying a peaceful and comfortable life in Paris, things in the British wizarding world were anything but calm. The Ministry of Magic—and Fudge in particular—were in utter turmoil.
Because Sirius Black, a notorious criminal, had escaped from Azkaban.
Sirius Black was the last male heir of the "Toujours Pur"—"Always Pure"—Black family. Like the rest of his relatives, he was believed to be a supporter of Voldemort.
After Voldemort's downfall, he had allegedly blown up an entire street with a single curse.
Following his arrest, Bartemius Crouch Sr., then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sent Black to Azkaban without trial.
And now, that same convict—who had been only twenty-two when imprisoned—had managed to escape. He was the first person ever to break out of Azkaban alone.
Just as Eda finished writing her reply, someone knocked at the door. Without looking up, she called out:
"Come in, Agnès!"
"I'm not Agnès. I'm Henri. Remember me?" a male voice sounded from inside the room as Henri Rosier pushed open the door and stepped in.
Eda certainly remembered this cousin of hers—serious one moment, unserious the next. She asked, "Why are you here?"
"Because of you, of course!" Henri answered in a tone full of grievance. "All thanks to your brilliant deeds, I've been mocked by those pure-blood bastards for days!"
That sentence almost sounded like something a typical pure-blood young master would say—but then Henri continued, "So when you're picking your future cousin-in-law at Hogwarts, could you at least take it seriously? Choose the best of the best!"
Same old Henri—still delightfully improper. Henri Freedom-Loving-Wants-to-Marry-a-Muggle-born-Witch Rosier.
Eda stood up, intending to go to the drawing room. If Henri was being mocked, the Rosier family definitely wouldn't send just him or Thierry Rosier alone. There were surely others accompanying them.
But Henri blocked her path. Seeing her questioning gaze, he said, "You really shouldn't go. They're spewing filth—words no minor should hear. I came here to escape the noise, so why would you walk straight into it?"
"That's exactly why I should go," Eda countered, stepping around him. "Should I let an old woman listen to those disgusting words alone?"
Henri paused, realized she had a point, and stepped aside. Not only that, he decided to go with her.
But before they reached the door, a young man suddenly appeared in the doorway.
He quickly tossed out a single sentence, then vanished even faster than he spoke—fleeing as though the room were filled with a noxious stench.
"Who was that just now? And what did he say?" Eda asked. The young man who had practically Apparated away at the door had spoken French so fast that Eda struggled to catch it.
"Vincent Rosier, the next heir of the family," Henri explained. "Come on, Great-Aunt asked us to go over."
From the brief encounter, it seemed Vincent not only wanted nothing to do with Eda—he didn't even want to deal with Henri.
Eda asked again, "Aside from me, he doesn't seem to like you either."
"Good eye. I was pretty scrawny when I was little, and that brat Vincent used to bully me all the time," Henri said. "But later the situation flipped, and naturally he didn't want to see me anymore."
"Didn't you say you were going to beat him up when you came back? Did you?"
Henri frowned at Eda, sounding offended. "How could you doubt my sincerity!? I beat him up the moment I got back. If you don't believe me, I'll beat him again later!"
Talking as they went, the two of them reached the drawing room door. It was slightly ajar, but the arguing inside was perfectly audible.
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