The rest of the summer term was spent in a blaze of brilliant sunshine.
Hogwarts had returned to its usual peace and quiet, and everyone no longer had to live in constant fear. More importantly, this year's exams were cancelled, and the students were overjoyed—there seemed to be more leisure time.
But Marcel's life became even more compact because of this.
During the last part of the term, he buried himself in the Room of Requirement every day, conducting various studies, and the subjects he studied became more profound and esoteric.
For example, the bloodline modification of the Acromantulas, and for another, he would, from time to time, "drag out" Tom Riddle for a bit of torment.
Previously, Riddle's words about "devouring fear" and Dumbledore's sad past had given Marcel a great deal of inspiration.
He had a feeling that as long as he continued his research in this direction, he would find the right solution.
The only thing left was probably a matter of time.
Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was time for the holidays again.
To be honest, every time the holidays came, Marcel had a feeling of not knowing where to go.
When a person without a home faces the date of "going home," his lost "sadness" is transformed into "bewilderment."
But this summer vacation, someone had already arranged a place for him to go.
…
London Heathrow Airport.
"Miss Blois, is there something you need for suddenly inviting me to your home?"
"Planting flowers."
"..."
Marcel glanced at her and found that Vylie still had her usual expressionless face. He immediately gave up on asking further.
There was no helping it. If she said planting flowers, then it was definitely planting flowers. There would be no hidden meaning.
Marcel remembered that the butler had once said that Vylie's home was in the Château de Blois in Paris. That was a famous royal castle. Although it was now a tourist attraction, if a wizarding family lived there, the meaning would be very different.
What's more, the name of this castle was the same as Vylie's surname.
After a period of flight, the plane landed smoothly on the runway of Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport.
Marcel carried his suitcase, helped Vylie get her checked luggage, and then they took the airport bus together to the banks of the Loire River.
When he stood at the main entrance of the Château de Blois, he immediately felt a unique aura rushing towards him.
This was a very strange castle building. Its main body was a square surrounded by four wings.
Perhaps because each wing was built in a different era, they each had different architectural styles, including Gothic, Renaissance, and French Classicism.
Walking slowly within it, one would often have the illusion of traveling through different eras.
As they proceeded, Vylie led Marcel to a large, upward-spiraling staircase.
"Here."
Vylie said, and took out her wand and tapped the handrail of the staircase. Immediately, the entire staircase began to slowly fade from top to bottom, turning into a dreamlike, translucent set of stairs.
But the Muggles around them seemed unable to see this change in scenery, and continued to move as usual. This change did not disturb anyone.
After the staircase finished changing, Vylie was the first to walk up the translucent stairs. Her figure became fainter and fainter, and finally, she disappeared from Marcel's sight.
He hurriedly followed her up.
After Marcel had walked up the spiral staircase for a few turns, he came to a large door on the second floor. The door was open, and the situation inside was clear at a glance.
Vylie was standing in the hall, and in front of her stood two maids, who were saying something in French.
And at the door, the old butler from last time was looking at Marcel with a smile.
"Honored guest, welcome to the Château de Blois. I welcome you on behalf of my master," the old butler said with a smile. "Thank you for your care of my young lady."
"It is my honor, Mr. Butler," Marcel said politely. "Your English is still as good as ever."
"You know, this is one of the necessary skills for a butler," the old butler said with a wink.
The Blois family's servants worked very efficiently. They soon arranged a guest room for Marcel that was ready for immediate occupancy. The room was large, and the decorations were frighteningly luxurious.
Everywhere in this castle, there were badges that highlighted the French royal family—the fleur-de-lis. From this point alone, one could predict that the connection between the Blois family and the French royal family was by no means ordinary.
Looking out the window of the room, one could faintly see many translucent shadows of Muggles. Here, Muggles and wizards were cleverly separated by a peculiar kind of magic.
Marcel watched by the window for a while and unknowingly became immersed in thought—this had almost become a habit of his. Whenever he saw any amazing magic, he would unconsciously begin to ponder its mysteries.
"Knock, knock"
Suddenly, a light knock on the door interrupted Marcel's thoughts.
"Come in," he said clearly.
The door was gently pushed open, and Vylie walked in.
"Planting flowers," she said straightforwardly.
"...Alright," Marcel had to nod.
Yes, he had come this time to be a gardener for the Blois family. He understood, he understood very well...
Marcel had thought Vylie would take him to a flower bed or some other place, but she led him all the way to the top of a remote tower.
"Here, planting flowers?" Marcel asked.
"Mother is allergic to flowers," Vylie said calmly.
Vylie said planting flowers, so it was definitely planting flowers. But the flower to be planted this time was not a "flower" in the ordinary sense.
"This is... a Raffaela Dragon's Kiss?"
The Raffaela Dragon's Kiss was a very strange plant. It always liked to grow in high places, and the cultivation methods were not complicated. But to make it bloom was not just difficult.
Or rather, not just expensive.
When the Raffaela Dragon's Kiss grew small, bluish-green flower buds, it needed to be irrigated with dragon's blood every day. Different types of dragon's blood could make it bloom with different flowers. Each flower looked exactly like a dragon's mouth and would even breathe dragon's fire.
However, the price of dragon's blood had always been very expensive, with each small bottle costing 12 Galleons. If it were irrigated with dragon's blood, it would cost at least a hundred gold Galleons every day. And considering the time it took for the Raffaela Dragon's Kiss to bloom...
Without preparing at least ten thousand gold Galleons, one would never see the day it bloomed.
"Yes, Raffaela Dragon's Kiss," Vylie was still as calm as ever. "I want to see what it looks like."
It was precisely because the conditions for this plant to bloom were too harsh that its rarity was simply maddening. But if one considered the medicinal value contained in the fruit of this plant, it was not as if there were no Potions masters willing to spend tens of thousands of gold Galleons to cultivate it.
It was just that its seeds were equally precious. Whether one could buy them was another matter!
"It seems that coming with you to 'plant flowers' this time was really the right decision," Marcel said, shaking his head.
By the time Marcel and Vylie had finished their work here, the sun had gradually set in the west.
Under the setting sun, the two walked slowly in the square in the middle of the castle, their shadows stretching long behind them.
At this time, the head of the Blois family had already returned. He met with Marcel quite formally.
"Welcome, Mr. Maclean."
Vylie's father was named Eric Blois, a thin, middle-aged man with a serious face. He was dressed in a formal suit and always looked very serious. Even when speaking to his own daughter, his tone did not change much.
Although Mr. Blois was very handsome and had an outstanding temperament, like his daughter, it seemed that his face would never show any expression.
But at least, when he received guests, he did not show the blatant arrogance of Lucius Malfoy. Although he always had a straight face, his behavior and etiquette showed no signs of neglect.
It was clear that he was actually quite concerned about his daughter's situation studying in England.
At the sumptuous dinner that night, Eric and Marcel talked about Vylie, while the subject of the conversation, Vylie, just quietly watched them. The scene was quite harmonious.
This dinner was really the best Marcel had eaten in years. Putting aside the stupid food of British Muggles, even the banquets at Hogwarts were not very much to Marcel's taste.
But this meal at the Blois family's home was a real treat for Marcel.
Although he had temporarily lost the pleasure of enjoying delicious food, his sense of taste had not been lost along with it.
At night, Marcel sat at the desk in his guest room and once again opened his notebook.
"The environment here is indeed good. It's very suitable for some theoretical research."
He muttered casually and then immersed himself in the various experimental data in his notebook.
…
Marcel's life at the Blois family's home was very comfortable. Servants took care of his daily life and meals, and he didn't have to worry about any trivial matters.
But during this period, probably on a certain day in August, an unprecedented event occurred in Britain—Sirius Black had escaped from prison!
Almost all wizards knew the name of this wizarding prison in Britain.
It was located on an isolated island in the middle of the North Sea. Its original inhabitant was an evil wizard named "Ekrizdis." It was only after he died that the building was discovered by the Ministry of Magic and transformed into an officially controlled wizarding prison.
In this famous prison, all the guards were a native dark creature called "Dementors." They were considered the foulest things in the world. They fed on the happiness of other creatures, and therefore made those who approached them feel gloomy and desperate.
But under extreme circumstances, they would also suck out the souls of creatures, turning them into a state of walking corpses. It could be said that no one would want to stay in this prison for even a quarter of an hour.
And this terrifying and famous wizarding prison was called "Azkaban."
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