The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow II » Harry Potter

2.11 | Treading Foreign Lands

The chequered floor of the Ministry of Magical Affairs of France was oddly sloppy underneath Margaret's boots. This didn't have anything to do with her nervousness. Conversations in rapid French met her ears but she could hardly focus on any of them as she weaved through the crowd. Like its British counterpart, the Ministry itself was underground, with a high white ceiling and intricate dark interior.

Margaret stepped onto a raised platform in the centre of the hall, and just as soon, black branches curled up from the circular edge, enclosing around her like walls.

It was an elevator. Judging by the panel inside, there were four levels in the Ministry. As she was told at the reception, Margaret tapped the third one and the elevator began descending at once.

Charlie was waiting for her in the atrium. He had taken an emergency travel leave despite her insistence that he didn't have to come along. Unlike Margaret, he had travelled to France before and had permission to cross borders.

With that said and done, there was no way she could stop him. Leaving unannounced would be incredibly rude, seeing as she had been able to stay so long at the sanctuary because of Charlie. In the end, however, Margaret was sort of grateful for the company. Even if she was a fully capable witch to travel amongst muggles, being alone in a foreign country could be really daunting.

So, three hours later they bid goodbye to Tara and Anika and teleported back to Paris, each carrying a bag of the things they might need.

The elevator opened into an empty, dimly lit hallway that led to a large desk. Past this was a pair of beautiful art nouveau doors that were carved to look like trees.

"Bonjour, madame. Je suis Enzo, l'archiviste," (Good morning, miss. I'm Enzo, the archivist,) greets the man behind the desk. "Pouvez-vous me dire votre nom de famille, madame?" (Can you tell me your family name, miss?)

"Xenakis," she answers before placing the small golden key on the desk. "Et j'ai aussi ça." (And I also have this.)

Monsieur Enzo leaned closer and scanned it through his thin glasses before nodding to himself. He picked up his wand and tapped it gently on the desk.

A large old book materialised through the dark wood surface, flipping open down the middle.

"Xenakis," says Enzo. The yellow pages began flipping on their own before stopping. "Casier six cent quarante deux. Par ici, s'il-vous-plait, madame." (Locker six hundred and forty-two. This way please, miss.)

The black double doors behind him parted. He told her to say her last name to the room as she stepped inside and the doors closed after her for privacy.

La Salle des Archives or the Records Room was very dark, except a sole bubble of light above her. There seemed to be hundreds of shelves in the room. Like the doors and the elevator, these were also carved to look like trees that held lockers within their trunks.

Margaret stood there silently for several moments.

She was so close to finding out more about her family and yet she felt an undeniable urge to run away. Never in her life had she imagined her family having a locker in the French Ministry of Magic. What else could await her now? Something better? She somehow highly doubted that.

"Xenakis," Margaret says to the room at large.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a soft rumbling arose in the oddly sloped floor. The shelves began shifting, the ones right in front of her part. To Margaret's great surprise, a tall shelf rose out of the ground as though the floor was water.