In Memoriam

[Boudicca Durand]

"I am glad to see so many faces here, tonight. I apologise for the poor travel conditions, and I am thankful for your safe arrival."​

It was Christmas eve, 2026. Snow smattered against the sodden ground, forming mounds of slush and a light covering of white beauty. The clock on the dining room mantelpiece, told that it was a quarter past nine, yet the fire still lit the room, crackling away, and all those staying at the house were present. The inhabitants were crowded around a large dark oak table, which stretched in length to make room for extra chairs. Silence had been eating away at the conversation, and all eyes were on Boudicca Durand as she begun her speech.

"This year has been one of mingled emotions, much of it sadness. Some of us have recently lost loved ones. I, myself, am included in that statement." Boudicca knew that this was the one reason they had all been listening so intently, yet avoiding eye contact. She didn't feel they should be treading on eggshells when it came to the subject. Achille had been a good man, and she wished for him to be remembered as one. "I would like to think myself a woman of great tolerance and understanding, but there is one thing that I find difficult to understand, and in no way condone; those who willingly undertake dark magic." They all knew she worked as an auror, and that she was a highly forgiving person, but they also knew where this speech was going. She was attempting to clear the air. "It is not a crime to die at the hand of dark witch or wizard- these people deserve nothing less than to be remembered. So it is that I ask you to raise your glasses," Boudicca produced her wand, allowing it to glide across the table, causing every bottle of wine to rise up and pour itself into the many brass goblets. "To Rose Scott and Achille Durand."
The room replied as one: "Scott and Durand."

---

After a few more evening drinks and some light-hearted conversation about the mansion ("Why did you never tell us you owned such a place?" one guest asked. Boudicca smiled and shook her head. "I don't. It's on loan from an elderly friend who's currently holidaying in Antigua."), the guests were split into families and groups before heading to their designated rooms. Boudicca would be sharing with her nephew, Antoine. The boy sat on his bed, reading a letter which seemed to cause a smile to curve upon his handsome young face. Boudicca was on the chair in the corner, flicking through the album of old photographs that she had brought to share on Christmas day. Achille was in it; a smiling young man with neat black hair and a clean suit to match, was standing outside of a church, an elegant woman beside him in a flowing white dress. She could not look more happy. Boudicca watched the photograph as the couple looked out at her, beaming and waving their hands. She turned to the next page.

By the time Boudicca had reached a picture of two little children chasing one another, Antoine had finished the lengthly letter. Boudicca's eyes found him. She recognised the smile, the way his face had practically lit up. "Is she nice?" she said from over in the corner, giving him a warm smile to follow.

---

 

[Antoine Roux]

Antoine looked up, his eyes focussing upon his aunt. He tried to wipe the expression from his face. "I don't know what you.." He began to protest, though he could see the aging woman raising her eyebrow through the gloom. It was fast nearing midnight. Aunt Boo knew a lot of things, and she could spot a liar, a mile off. Antoine glanced back down at the letter, smiling at the words before he folded it away and carefully tucked it back into the envelope. Finally, he answered the question. "Yes- she's amazing." The honesty in his voice was sicking out like a sore thumb. "We only really got talking in September.. Her little sister goes to the school, you see, and because I'm working as groundskeeper, it's my job to help with guiding the students to the school. Her sister began talking to me and we sort of became friends. But I caught her sneaking out of the castle in the dead of night, and she begged me not to tell anyone, so I said that I ought to at least contact her sister- who was in my year and head girl, and was acting as a sort of unofficial guardian- to explain the situation to her. The girl agreed and.. Well.." Antoine gestured to the letters. "That's her way of spending Christmas with me. I told her that I'd be here with family.." He trailed off, the words finally vanishing from his lips.

What he didn't know, as he clambered into bed that night, was that the present he most desired, would be under the Christmas tree in the living room, by morning.

 

[Lumina Sangora]

Lumina had been staying in one of the smaller rooms, a little cot playing home to her fast-growing baby boy. They had both slept well, the night running smoothly, though this didn't prevent George from waking up at six in the morning. The day begin for Lumina, with the sounds of her babbling baby. George scarcely cried (of which Lumina was thankful) but babbled a lot, and quite loudly, too. Lumina yawned as she got to her feet and held her baby. It was Christmas day. And it was snowing.

The rest of the mansion was shadowed in silence, the faint morning light and snow passing by the window, the only thing to pierce the darkness. Lumina had thrown on a fluffy brown dressing gown and a pair of worn grey slippers, and she was now approaching the living room. When she entered, however, Lumina found herself holding George close to her chest in a highly protective manner: The room was decorated with holly and candles, tinsel and baubles. The Christmas tree was stood in one corner, a healthy shade of green which seemed to compliment the many yellow-white lights that seemed to float around its branches. And underneath the decorated tree, were many parcels- no, not parcels.. Presents. But it was not the presents which caused Lumina to react in such a way. It was the girl knelt under the tree, holding present wrapped in delicate blue an lilac paper with a petite golden ribbon.

Lumina had met everyone, the previous night.. So who on earth was this? The girl didn't seem to notice Lumina until Lumina spoke. "Who does that belong to?" She asked sternly, assuming the worst. This girl may have been a thief. Whatever the case, she had broken into the house and was knelt under the tree with a present and a surprised look upon her face.

 

[Christelle Benoit]

She had travelled miles in a muggle fashion, and had arrived at her destination by five forty-five. Getting into the house as an uninvited guest, had not been the easiest thing. After all, there were enchantments to get through which were in place to stop muggles and thieves. But Christelle was not a thief. It was times like these that she was thankful she had been such a successful student. She had managed to get through, after ten minutes, and had soon located the living room. She opened the suitcase she had brought, and took out a very solid, but neatly wrapped, present. It was just as she was placing it under the Christmas tree, when she heard another's voice. Someone had spotted her. She looked around, hoping she would not be in trouble, but a smile soon etched across her face as she recognised the woman that Antoine had described in his letters.

Lumina Sangora was certainly not pleased and obviously not to be crossed, even without her wand. She was clutching her baby close to her body in an attempt to protect it. But there was nothing to protect it from. Christelle had read about Lumina, about her difficulties, about the unexpected child. "Antoine Roux's," she said with her french accent quite obvious, "I'm here to see him." She paused, hearing the distant sound of movement. Talia had gone to find Antoine, and by the sudden noise of footsteps, it became obvious that she had found someone.