Chapter 841 - Prepping Ⅲ (1/2)
Not much earlier inside the Verninac Chateau, the fireplace hearth flashes emerald as the godparents arrive. The first to emerge is the pale-faced, Dorea Potter (nee Black) with a batch of running blue veins running beneath her skin. She wears a simple matron ball gown with slightly puffed sleeves and a full-length collar stretching up to her neck. Her gown is a pale lilac, a lighter shade of mourning color with her ever-present black shawl to keep the chill at bay. She had stepped onto the rich carpet and vanished the soot from her dress when an aged wizard with wispy unruly hair emerges from the emerald flames that roar behind her.
Fleamont Potter hazel eyes glance about steadying himself, before nodding at Dorea Potter. The two of them had reacquainted themselves since the death of Fleamont's distant cousin, Charlus Potter. His knobby knees tremble for a moment from age, before he straightens and steps aside. He was wearing full robes embroidered with golden threads in a symbol of their forebear, Linfred of Stinchcombe. (Wizarding Historians credited Linfred for a number of remedies that evolved into potions still in use to modern-day including Skele-Gro, and Pepperup Potion. And which enabled Linfred to leave a vast fortune to his descendants even until that present day.)
The green flames roar again causing Fleamont's hazel eyes to soften with tender feelings and worry. His only child had been born to him and Euphemia's in their old age, a true miracle. They might have spoiled James a bit much, but he'd always been a good lad. However, after his fall, James had been different, colder, and even distant. He'd tried to put the matter out of mind, but the Hogwarts Matron had written with a list of stern instructions indicating the need for nutrient potions, calming draughts, and even a strictly controlled amount of dreamless potion.
Fleamont and Euphemia had panicked hastily sending their house elf, Nimmy with a letter to the Matron of Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey. To their shock, they found that James was suffering from stress and possible aftereffects that were a direct consequence of his fall during the summer. As a result, James was under strict watch to take his potions in the presence of the matron or another ȧduŀt. They had done exactly as the instructions from the Matron said, but James seemed even more lost and distant as if he wasn't seeming them, but rather through them.
Fleamont and Euphemia had seriously discussed their next steps. They decided that if James failed all of his O.W.L.'s that they would accept it and move on. There were plenty of other careers that James could pursue that would not require an academic focus.
Still, he felt a bit at loss without his wife at his side. His only source of relief is that she was starting to feel better before they left, but still, they thought it prudent not to risk the international portkey. In a kind gesture, she had been invited by Dorea Potter to visit her great-nieces, Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks along with Molly Weasley, who would not be attending the ball due to their small children. Euphemia had agreed to consider visiting the younger witches if she felt better. Fleamont felt a sense of comfort knowing that his wife wouldn't be alone until their return home if she accepted the invitation. All that mattered to him was that his Euphie recovered from her cold.
Fleamont's gaze returns to the figure to his son, James, who is wiping the soot off his outer robe. His son had been meticulously dressed by Dorea Potter, who had even forced him the evening before to drink a beauty hair-lengthen potion. His son's dark unruly hair had grown out to his chin, before been elegantly pulled back creating a charming, tousled hair effect. It was the neatest that his son's hair had ever been.
James wore a silk white cravat to match his stark white shirt. There was a dark vest embroidered with golden threads representing the Potter name along with plain dark trousers and sleek dragonhide boots. Instead of an outer jacket, there is a shorter inner swallowtail style of robes followed by a longer full-length of robes with silver embroidery. The only other flash of color is the pin on his shoulder of a coiled silver wyvern with sapphire-colored eyes symbol of the Prince crest.
Fleamont wordlessly offers Dorea his arm as Dorea wordlessly accepts by curling her hand around his extended elbow. Without a wordless glance, Fleamont motions to James to pointedly follow them as they stride down the Verninac Hall full of paintings painted by a famous muggle or squib including European artists such as Toulouse, Monet, Renoir, Degas, Van Goh, Le Brun, etc. There were also enchanted portraits, who smugly gazed down at them as they passed, and unfortunately, they really were good-looking charmers.
Already waiting for them in the main foyer is a beautiful French witch with sun-streaked hair and a firm gaze, Louise Verninac. ”Velcome Potter'z,” Louise said in accented English, ”to Verninac Chateau.”
”Merci Beaucoup,” Sirsa graciously replied thanking the hostess. ”Your home is as lovely as ever, Louise.”