The Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station with a final, billowing hiss of steam. Artemis Lovelace gathered her belongings, adjusted her cloak, and stepped onto the platform, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.
It didn't take long.
"Aunt Aurelia!"
A woman with elegantly pinned Grey hair and sharp grey eyes broke into a warm smile, striding toward her with an air of composed authority. She was dressed in deep blue robes, her bearing regal yet undeniably affectionate.
"My dear girl," Elderly Aurelia Lovelace murmured, embracing Artemis tightly. "Welcome home."
Warmth spread through Artemis's chest as she returned the hug. The station bustled around them—parents greeting children, house-elves struggling under mountains of trunks—but for a moment, it was just the two of them.
"Let's get you home," Aurelia said, brushing a gloved hand over Artemis's hair before guiding her toward the exit.
The familiar tug of Side-Along Apparition whisked them away, and in an instant, they landed at the grand yet inviting home of the Lovelace family.
As soon as they stepped inside, a pair of house-elves appeared with delighted squeaks.
"Miss Artemis is home! Miss Artemis must be starving!"
Grent, the elder of the two, puffed up with pride. "Fenny has been cooking all week, miss! Your favorites!"
Artemis barely had time to remove her cloak before she was ushered into the dining room, where an extravagant spread awaited her—roast lamb, buttered parsnips, treacle tart, and steaming mugs of spiced cider. The warmth of the crackling fireplace and the scent of cinnamon wrapped around her like a well-worn blanket.
Over dinner, Artemis regaled her aunt with tales of her first term—her classes, her professors, her research papers, and the friendships she was beginning to form. Aurelia listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with sharp observations or amused chuckles at Artemis's recounting of Eliza's dramatic library laments.
The next morning, as Artemis finished the last of her breakfast, the front doorbell chimed.
"That'll be Henry," Aurelia remarked with a knowing smile. "He wrote to say he'd be coming first thing."
Henry Bell arrived with an unending enthusiasm, his brown eyes alight with curiosity and excitement.
"Finally!" he exclaimed as he shrugged off his winter cloak. "Tell me everything—every secret passageway you discovered, every dueling match you watched, every dramatic house rivalry I missed!"
Artemis laughed, settling onto the plush settee in the drawing room as a house-elf served them tea. "You act as though I've been to a different world instead of Hogwarts."
"It might as well be," Henry grumbled good-naturedly. "Rosaline and Eliza left this morning—off to Germany with their parents, as you know. It's just us for the holidays, I'm afraid."
"I don't mind," Artemis said honestly. "I'd rather be here than anywhere else."
They spent the afternoon recounting stories, Artemis detailing her first term's escapades while Henry listened, occasionally interjecting with incredulous exclamations or wry remarks. As the daylight waned, Aunt Aurelia joined them, settling into her favorite armchair with a fresh cup of tea.
"Speaking of research," Aurelia began, turning to Artemis with an assessing gaze, "I have been writing a book. A comparison of the last war and this one—how history is repeating itself in alarming ways. The old families, the politics, the dangerous alliances… There is much that people refuse to acknowledge."
Henry whistled. "That sounds... revolutionary."
"Necessary," Aurelia corrected, her tone firm. "If people would only learn from the past, we wouldn't be here again."
Artemis hesitated, setting down her teacup with care. "Aunt Aurelia, if you publish this now—during the war—you will be drawing attention to yourself. And not the good kind."
Aurelia's brows furrowed slightly. "I will not be silenced by fear, Artemis."
"I'm not saying you should be," Artemis said carefully. "I'm saying you should be strategic. The last thing we need is for you to become a target. Not when—" she paused, choosing her words deliberately. "Not when I still need you."
Aurelia's lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her sharp gaze. She had always been fearless in her pursuit of truth, unwavering in her principles. But now, looking at Artemis—this young girl who had grown so much, who had the world ahead of her—Aurelia felt the weight of responsibility settle differently upon her shoulders.
"I will think about it," she said finally, her voice quieter than before.
Artemis exhaled, relieved. She knew Aurelia Lovelace was not one to back down from a fight, but she also knew that sometimes, the bravest thing one could do was live to fight another day.
Henry, sensing the shift in mood, clapped his hands together. "Right. Now that we've had our dose of serious discussion, how about some chess? Or shall we duel in the drawing room?"
"Neither," Artemis said, smirking. "How about you help me sort through Aunt Aurelia's library? I suspect there are more than a few tomes in there that would make even the Hogwarts Restricted Section look tame."
Aurelia merely raised a knowing brow, sipping her tea as the two launched into playful bickering. And as the evening stretched on, laughter echoed through the halls, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still warmth to be found in the company of those we held dear.
The next evening, A gentle warmth spread through the sitting room as Artemis settled into the plush armchair across from her aunt. A pot of rich Darjeeling tea rested between them, delicate curls of steam rising into the air. Aunt Aurelia Lovelace poured them each a cup with practiced grace, her sharp eyes studying Artemis over the rim of her teacup.
"Now," Aurelia began, setting down the teapot, "you wanted to discuss my book in greater detail."
Artemis took a thoughtful sip before replying. "Yes. You mentioned it was a comparative study between the last war and this one? That sounds incredibly insightful, but also... dangerous. You know how certain parties react to such literature."
Aurelia exhaled, the flickering candlelight accentuating the lines of wisdom on her face. "I have been cautious with my sources and phrasing, but you are right to worry. If the Dark faction sees my work as a threat, it would not be the first time an author faced consequences."
Artemis set down her cup, leaning forward. "Then you must not publish it—at least not until the war is over. Aunt Aurelia, you have me to think of now. If something were to happen to you..."
A long silence stretched between them. Aurelia studied her niece, her sharp mind turning over the implications. "You're quite right," she finally conceded. "My duty to you outweighs my academic ambitions, at least for now. I shall put the manuscript under protective enchantments and reconsider publication when the climate is safer."
Artemis let out a quiet breath of relief. "Good. Now, on a less dire note—Slughorn's invitation. We need to draft our RSVP."
Aurelia pulled out parchment and an elegant quill, nodding. "Yes, Slughorn was always rather fond of cultivating promising young witches and wizards. We shall accept for the 27th of December."
Artemis smirked. "And endure his pompous flattery in the process."
"Oh, undoubtedly," Aurelia said with a chuckle, dipping the quill into ink. "Shall we keep it formal?"
They worked through the wording together, ensuring the letter struck the right balance of grace and cordiality. Once completed, Aurelia set it aside to dry before sealing it with her wax insignia.
As they sipped their tea, Artemis broached another topic with a hint of excitement. "Aunt Aurelia, I... need more clothes. And not just for this soiree, but for the other holiday events we've been invited to. Dresses, jewelry, shoes—"
"You have a fine collection," Aurelia interjected, but Artemis shook her head.
"I mean Muggle fashion. I've missed the Muggle world since Mother passed away. She used to take Edward and me shopping there, and I haven't had the chance to go back."
Aurelia pursed her lips in thought. "I understand. Britain is hardly safe for such excursions right now. But perhaps..."
Artemis brightened as her aunt's expression shifted to something more thoughtful. "Perhaps?"
"France," Aurelia decided. "If you are determined to explore the Muggle world again, we shall do it properly. And since I am not particularly well-versed in Muggle shopping, I shall write to Elizabeth Bell . She is perfectly suited to accompany you."
Artemis grinned. "Thank you, Aunt Aurelia! I'll ask Henry to let his mother know."
"You may, but I shall make the arrangements. If you are to have this experience, I want it done safely and elegantly," Aurelia said firmly, before softening into a rare smile. "Besides, it will be a rather lovely adventure for you."
Artemis couldn't contain her excitement. A trip to France with Mrs. Bell to shop in the Muggle world—just like old times. This holiday season was beginning to look rather interesting indeed.
Artemis stepped off the Portkey with an exhilarated gasp, the chill of the Parisian winter biting at her cheeks. The city stretched before her in grand, glittering elegance—the Seine winding like a silver ribbon through its heart, the towering Eiffel standing proud in the distance, and the streets thrumming with a life and energy that was uniquely French. A surge of nostalgia swelled in her chest. It had been years since she last set foot in France, and the memories of her early childhood—her mother guiding her and her brother through bustling markets, the warm scent of fresh pastries, and the lyrical cadence of the French language—flooded back in an overwhelming rush. There were other memories as well, memories of her last life when she a university student in paris, living a young life with her husband Kevin , then boyfriend, it was a similar time period as now, she had been in her early 20s and oh so lively building a life in the charming street of paris. There was a reason she chose France to retire, this was the place she had begun her adult life and it was the place she took her last breath. Now it was a new life, new memories.
Mrs. Elizabeth Bell , ever the composed and keen-eyed matron, straightened her fine wool coat, casting Artemis a knowing glance. "Bienvenue à Paris, ma chérie," she said smoothly. "Try not to get too lost in memories. We have shopping to do."
"Oui, madame," Artemis replied with a cheeky grin, slipping effortlessly into fluent French. Beside her, Henry huffed.
"Why am I the only one who doesn't speak the language?" he complained.
"You're still learning," his father, Alan Bell , said with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "This is the perfect opportunity to practice."
"Or get utterly confused," Henry muttered under his breath.
Their first destination was the grand Boulevard Haussmann, a street lined with opulent shopping malls and luxurious boutiques. Aunt Aurelia had been more than generous, providing ample funds in both Muggle francs and wizarding bezants, with strict instructions that Artemis was to indulge as she pleased but to remain appropriately dressed for a young lady of her age. Elizabeth Bell , having been given a private word by Aurelia, took her role as chaperone seriously—though she did enjoy the idea of playing stylist for her young charge.
Artemis was entranced by the sheer beauty of Parisian fashion. The grand window displays of Galeries Lafayette showcased elegant winter coats in cashmere and wool, dresses with intricate lacework, and polished leather boots that gleamed under soft lighting. She ran her fingers over the fabric of a particularly fine burgundy coat, recalling how her mother used to dress her in similar colors.
"This one suits you, ma petite," Mrs. Bell said approvingly. "Classic, refined."
"I like it," Artemis murmured. "But I want to see more."
And see more they did. Over the course of the afternoon, they visited renowned tailors, boutique fashion houses, and even a few quaint independent shops along Rue de Rivoli, where Artemis found a beautiful cream-colored gown for formal events, a set of soft wool sweaters, and an assortment of elegant dresses suited for casual but dignified gatherings. She was particularly taken by a pair of polished black ankle boots—practical, stylish, and comfortable.
The shopping trip was made all the more amusing by Henry's struggles with French. He gamely tried to order coffee at a café, only to mistakenly request "un chat noir," earning laughter from the group and a bemused stare from the waiter. "You just asked for a black cat, darling," his mother teased, patting his hand.
"I meant 'un café noir!'" Henry groaned, his ears burning.
"Good effort," Artemis said, barely suppressing a giggle. "At least you didn't accidentally order a broomstick."
By late afternoon, their arms were laden with bags, and Artemis was feeling thoroughly content. She had a complete wardrobe that would last her through the upcoming year, including everything she needed for Slughorn's soirée and any other formal engagements that might arise. But there was still one more stop she was eager for.
"Place Cachée?" she asked, glancing up at Mrs. Bell hopefully.
Elizabeth nodded. "Of course, dear. I suspected you would want to visit the wizarding quarter."
They made their way to a discreet, ivy-covered archway tucked between two Muggle bookshops. With a subtle flick of Mrs. Bell 's wand, the air shimmered, and they stepped through into a bustling cobblestone street lined with apothecaries, enchanted boutiques, and wizarding pâtisseries that filled the air with the scent of warm sugar and spices. The French wizarding world had a distinct elegance to it—less rustic than Diagon Alley, more refined, with intricate wrought-iron balconies and floating lanterns casting golden light over the thoroughfare.
Artemis made her way to a renowned bookstore, where she picked up a few rare tomes on magical theory, and then to a small jeweler's shop, where she selected a delicate charm bracelet infused with protective enchantments and some other jewellery. Mrs. Bell approved, noting that Aurelia would appreciate the subtle practicality of the pieces.
By evening, they settled into a charming bistro for dinner, indulging in rich French cuisine. Artemis savored each bite of her coq au vin, reveling in the warmth of the setting.
"This was wonderful," she murmured, watching the city lights twinkle through the frosted window. "I—I had forgotten how much I missed this."
Mrs. Bell reached over, squeezing her hand gently. "It is good to remember, Artemis. And good to make new memories as well."
As they prepared to return home, arms full of treasures and hearts full of warmth, Artemis felt something within her settle—a sense of connection to the past, to her mother, and to the life she was building for herself. Paris had been more than a shopping trip. It had been a rekindling of something lost and a step forward into something new.