A week after the start of the new term, Elijah White arrived at Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic through the Floo Network, stepping out into the elegant, high-ceilinged office of Madame Maxime. The headmistress was seated at her desk when he entered. She looked up, and he greeted her with a warm smile.
"Good afternoon, Madame Maxime. How have you been?"
She rose to her feet with a gracious smile. "I've been well, Elijah. Come, sit down."
He moved across the room and settled into the chair opposite her. With a gentle flick of her wand, she summoned a tray of tea. Placing it on the table, she passed him a delicate porcelain cup.
"Here—your lemon tea, as you always liked it. Have it," she said kindly.
He accepted the cup with a nod of gratitude.
"And how is Eira doing in her studies?" he asked after a moment.
Madame Maxime's eyes lit up. "She's very active in her classes. I spoke with her professors—they all complimented her performance. She's doing very well."
Elijah nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "That's good. That's very good. That's what she should do."
Madame Maxime hesitated, then added, "I had hoped she might be my apprentice, like Fleur Delacour is . But I understand you plan to send her back to Hogwarts to continue her education. Such a shame… to send her away."
Elijah's gaze softened slightly. "I could let her stay here, yes. Let her complete all seven years at Beauxbâtons. But there's something I must be honest about. She has to return to Britain. It's her destiny. She will be the next matriarch of our family. She needs to understand the old families and their descendants—grow up among them, learn them. I want her to spend time in their world, to know the next generation of those wizards. She cannot remain unfamiliar with those hyena-like families… leeches, the lot of them. That's why it's the best course of action for her—to go back and continue her studies there."
Madame Maxime sighed, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Such a shame. She is a talented child, even though it's only her first year. She has so much potential to grow… to become a powerful witch."
A knock at the office door interrupted them. Madame Maxime turned toward it. "Enter."
The door opened, and Professor Voclain stepped inside. She cast a brief glance at Elijah before turning toward Madame Maxime, who rose from her seat.
"Go on, you two talk," she said. "I'll be out inspecting students and their classes."
She swept out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Elijah looked up at the professor.
"Don't stand there, René. Come, sit down."
Slowly, Professor Voclain approached and lowered herself into the seat opposite him.
Elijah studied her for a long moment. "How have you been, René? It's been a long time since we last saw each other. What—thirty years? No… twenty years?"
Her face remained expressionless. "Since the day you killed my husband," she said flatly.
Elijah's fingers clenched the arm of his chair. "Yes. The husband who betrayed you… who had an affair with his daughter's mother-in-law. That husband."
His voice turned bitter. "The man who knew his daughter was engaged to the son of the woman he had an affair with. Yes, I killed him. And I killed her too. I did what I had to do. I gave everything to that woman. I sacrificed my whole life for her, and in the end—" He stopped himself, the words trailing off into silence.
René Voclain turned her face away. "I told you not to accept the engagement between my daughter and your son. Why did you accept it? I told you to reject it. That engagement brought nothing but shame to both our houses."
Elijah's voice rose slightly. "And what was I supposed to do? Do you think Maria and Damien would have accepted the truth? That their parents had an affair? That they had a son? How was I supposed to explain to Damien that the angel of a mother he worshipped had given him a half brother—who also happened to be his wife's half-brother?"
"That's enough," René snapped coldly. "I don't want to talk about it. I didn't come here to discuss the past."
Elijah exhaled and leaned back. "Right… of course. I didn't ask you to meet for the past either."
"Then speak," she said. "What is it you want?"
He looked at her intently. "I want you to connect with Eira. Talk to her. Tell her you're her grandmother."
She stood abruptly. "That's not wise. She's still a child. How do you expect me to explain such a complicated web of relationships to her, Elijah?"
"You don't have to worry. She's a smart girl. She already knows the truth about Cecil—not being my real son. And you can introduce her to her aunt. She will need family. A mentor."
René's eyes narrowed. "You did what? You told her?"
"I didn't tell her everything," he said. "I didn't tell her about you. I left that for you. I think she'll understand. She's mature."
"You shouldn't have involved her," René said, her voice rising. "She's a child. Don't burden her with the sins of adults."
"She will be the matriarch, René. I've told her enough. She needs to understand where she comes from."
René walked to the door. "If that's all, I'm leaving. I won't stay to talk more nonsense with you."
As she reached for the handle, Elijah said quietly, "I'm dying, René."
She paused. "What did you say?"
"I'm dying," he repeated. "I've been cursed. It's been a decade since I was diagnosed. An old, ancient curse. There's no cure."
She turned, stunned. "What curse? Tell me. Maybe I can look into the records—my family has ancient texts—"
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. I've accepted it."
Her voice trembled slightly. "How much time?"
"A year, maybe two if I fight."
René stared at him. "Are you sure?"
"I've tried everything but nothing worked," Elijah sighed and said. "I just want you to protect her. Be there for Eira. She's still a child. Those British families—they'll devour her. You and your daughter… go be with her. Be her family. Give her what she never had. She spent six, nearly seven years alone. No love. No warmth. Be there for her. That family is hers now. She's your granddaughter. The last piece of Maria."
He met her gaze, pleading. "Put your pride aside. Your son is already the Lord of the Voclain family. He doesn't need you anymore. But she does."
René's voice softened. "I don't know if she'll accept me."
"She will," Elijah said. "Last year when I visited her for the first time , she didn't yell, she didn't cry, she didn't ask why I was never there. She just accepted me… and called me 'grandfather.' She will accept you too."
He gave a faint, sorrowful smile.
"She's a kind girl, René. A very kind girl."