Those who understand the times are wise. Knowing something cannot be done and insisting on doing it often does not mean you are brave; it only displays your foolishness and recklessness to others, becoming seasoning for their idle gossip.
The strength Eda had displayed would indeed make Alain and his son uneasy, but the idea that she would bring benefits to the family in the future was merely a promise Vinda had painted. No one could be certain it would truly come to pass.
The wizarding world had never lacked for astonishingly talented people, and there were countless geniuses who died halfway along their path. Eda herself was not yet enough to make Alain decide as he had now.
Anyone could die; as long as you were willing to pay a sufficient price, Eda was not some three-headed, six-armed being—if a Killing Curse struck her, she would die just the same.
The reason Alain and his son had not done so was, first, that the cost was too great—the price they would have to pay was not proportional to the return of killing Eda.
Second was Vinda. The contingencies this old woman had hidden away filled Alain and his son with fear.
She had not demanded that Eda change her surname to Rosier, nor had she sought greater family benefits for Eda. That was already a concession Vinda had made. If they continued to push their luck and overstep their bounds, would Vinda Rosier, who had once stirred up storms, choose to stake everything and fight to the bitter end?
With the entire Rosier family behind him as support, Alain could thrive so freely in France. Without the Rosier backing him, relying solely on his own abilities, the wealth in his hands would become fish on a chopping board, ready to be carved up at will.
This was the main reason Alain and his son had yielded. He did not want to lose the Rosier family, and he could not afford to lose it.
Therefore, after the summer holiday, Alain did nothing and said nothing. Today, he sent a gift, indirectly acknowledging that Eda was a member of the Rosier family.
He might be unwilling, but there was nothing he could do. Alain did not dare to gamble on Vinda's ruthlessness and her hidden measures.
He could only wait for the day when the promised benefits became reality, quietly waiting for Eda to grow. Or perhaps wait for an opportunity to reverse the situation—waiting for the day Vinda left this world.
Vinda understood very clearly the meaning behind this gift and the thoughts concealed within it, and she had been making preparations all along.
Just as she had once told Agnès, the house might not be large, but it still had to be cleaned thoroughly. If someone had not leaked the news, none of it would have happened so suddenly, nor would things have reached the situation they were in today.
Eda, who had received the gift, understood as well. She was no longer the naïve girl who had just entered the wizarding world. If she truly wanted to fight for it—if she recklessly magnified the darkness within her heart—the Rosiers would gain a terrifying enemy who would stop at nothing.
To understand the ways of the world without becoming worldly, to experience sophistication yet retain innocence—this was one of Eda's rare shining qualities.
Many times, Eda wished she were truly just a normal child. Though she might not be outstanding or particularly sensible, at least happiness would be simple. Using her special ability to probe into Vinda's heart, to ensure that their reunion as grandmother and granddaughter was not an enormous lie, not a bottomless trap—if it were possible, no one would want to do such a thing.
Vinda lightly patted Eda's shoulder, signaling for her to follow.
Under Vinda's lead, the two of them went upstairs and arrived at the suite that was always kept closed.
The décor of the room was consistent with the rest of the house; even the furnishings were part of the same set.
The arrangement inside the suite made it seem as though someone had been living there all along—an open book spread out, half-eaten pastries on the table, a steaming cup of tea—all preserved in the state they had been left in when the suite's owner departed.
Yet even arranged like this, it could not change the fact that the owner of the suite had long since left and never returned. The spotless room carried not a trace of lived-in warmth.
Vinda did not linger, nor did she explain the significance of the suite's existence to Eda. Instead, she walked straight to the tall bookshelf standing against the wall. From it, she found a German book with a red cover and tapped the spine rhythmically with her finger.
Immediately, the tall bookshelf began to change, splitting apart to either side, while the books upon it strangely remained suspended in place.
When the shelves stopped moving, the wall behind them suddenly vanished, revealing an entrance large enough for one person to pass through.
The books that had remained in place then surged into the opening, forming a staircase that extended downward.
"That red book appears in a different spot every time. Finding it among several hundred books is quite interesting," Vinda explained her earlier action. "Let's go down. There are some things I think you should know."
Ah, this… a secret passage hidden in the room.
From outside the suite, there had been no sign of it at all, and there was nothing unusual about the thickness of the walls or pillars. So was this the charm of magic, or had those bratty neon-lit child detectives deceived her?
While Eda was still marveling at the thought of "There's a secret passage hidden in my house, and I didn't know anything about it," Vinda had already stepped into the entrance and was walking down the staircase formed by books.
Eda followed. After descending a few steps made of books, the stairs beneath her feet turned into stone steps.
The books flew back to their original places, and the entrance behind them disappeared. Though the entrance vanished, the passage did not fall into darkness. Unknown stones embedded in the walls and steps lit up with a soft glow.
The light was not dazzling, but just enough to let one clearly see the path underfoot. At the end of the stone steps, the space widened considerably. What came into view was a somewhat mottled wooden door. Vinda was taking candles out from a cabinet beside the door and inserting them into candlesticks, lighting them one by one.
When she pushed open the wooden door, there was no imagined foul odor rushing out, no blinding piles of gold and silver treasures, nor any magical creatures like a basilisk hidden inside. It was so ordinary that it almost failed to justify its concealed method of entry.
The room behind the wooden door was not large—about the size of a bedroom. The furnishings were simple: a desk, a chair, three cabinets. The walls were bare, with neither photographs nor portraits.
"This is…" Eda carefully examined everything before her. Since it had been hidden, there must be a reason for it. Yet aside from the unopened cabinets, it did not look like a place that held secrets.
"Everyone has a past unknown to others, secrets they wish to bury. My past, my secrets, are hidden here," Vinda said. She placed the candlestick on the desk and adjusted the flame until it burned brighter.
Vinda opened the cabinet on the left side of the desk. By the candlelight, Eda could see what was stored inside. What caught her attention most was a necklace bearing a special symbol, the black waist sash she had seen before, a human skull, and several other items.
"Grindelwald," Eda said softly. "Everything in this cabinet is related to him."
Eda looked at the human skull. There was no mysterious aura flowing over it, yet the line of German carved into it made it instantly recognizable: For the Greater Good—1898.
"That's right. It's a rare magical object. It can assist you in making prophecies and can also allow more people to see your visions," Vinda said, pointing at the somewhat damaged skull. "He once used this skull to make a prophecy that shocked the wizarding world—right there in Paris, at Père Lachaise Cemetery. Unfortunately, only a very few believed him."
Vinda Rosier had been a follower of Grindelwald and a participant in that most brutal wizarding war. Vinda had never regarded herself as a hero, nor had she believed she stood on the side of justice. She had merely done what she thought she ought to do at the time.
"Back then, I stood behind him holding the skull, witnessing his great prophecy," Vinda's eyes shone, as though recalling those years. "Then a group of self-proclaimed righteous people burst in and disrupted the gathering."
Eda took the necklace from the cabinet and held it in her hand. She recognized the symbol on the pendant. A triangle, a circle, and a straight line—combined together, they formed Grindelwald's mark, and also the legendary symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
"The Tales of Beedle the Bard. The story of the three Peverell brothers gave rise to the legend of the Deathly Hallows. Many became obsessed with it, hoping to become the master of death. He once searched for the Hallows as well.."
Vinda continued. "But many people nowadays have forgotten the original meaning of that symbol, seeing it only as Grindelwald's mark."
"So many people flock to it, yet no one can prove whether the Deathly Hallows truly exist." Eda hung the necklace back in place. She felt the legend was too illusory. Master of Death? Would Death itself even agree?
"The real and the illusory often lie only a line apart. Sometimes they are even wrapped together, making them impossible to distinguish," Vinda went on. "I didn't bring you here to talk about these things. I want to tell you something you don't know."
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