The Seven Husbands of Helene Zabini

Chapter Three - Early Years

"Helene Kama?" I frown, looking up at her. Mrs. Zabini's warm brown eyes meet mine, as if they are boring into my soul. It sends a sharp shiver down my spine.

"My mother's last name was Scamander," she sighs, "But to honor her sacrifice, my father decided to give me the name of the man who should have been my grandfather. Mustafa Kama. My father was a superstitious man, and he believed that to name me Scamander, or Lestrange, or even Diouf would set me up for a life of heartbreak and darkness."

"I spent my early days exploring our small plot of land in Colomiers, blissfully unaware of my magical abilities. My father was an opinionated man. My mother was his magic, and when she died... he saw no use in the constant reminder. I never saw him use his wand a single time in my presence."

I pause, my lips pursed slightly. No magic.

"When I was 10 years old, a tall old man arrived at my house, and the first chapter of my life began to unfold." A small smile plays on her lips, lighting her face up in a manner that looks like a cross between excitement and nostalgia.

—

I fiddle with the hair of my doll. My mama made it for me, long before I was born. I never knew my mama. Not like the other girls know their mama's. Their mama's braid their hair, and sew them dresses from calicos and silks. The black yarn is frizzy and matted, practically destroyed.

My papa sits across the small room from me, watching as I play with my dolls. There is a loud knock at the door. I do not miss the way he tenses slightly, as if he is afraid. My papa told me never to be afraid, because many people simply fear what they do not know. So instead of being afraid, I should just try to understand.

I watch silently as he stands up, slowly walking towards the door. The old brass hinges creak as the wooden door is pulled open, and in comes a tall man. He looks like one of the characters from the books Papa reads to me at night, before I go to bed.

The man towers over my papa, dressed in long silvery gray robes that skim the dusty wooden floor I am sitting on. I look up at him, my eyes filled with curiosity as he walks towards me.

"Hello, child," he says, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of me. My eyes travel across the room to meet those of my father, which look wary, yet he slowly nods, "Do you know who I am?"

"No Monsieur." I shake my head. Papa says it's important to always be polite.

"My name is Maximillion Dupain, and I am the Headmaster of a school called Beauxbatons, have you ever heard of it?"

"No Monsieur," I repeat.

"It is a school for special children, like yourself, who possess the ability to control the extraordinary. They call them witches and wizards." A small smile plays on his lips as he draws what looks like a pointed wooden stick from his pocket. Waving it slightly, he flicks his wrist and says a string of gibberish along the lines of, "Aperendo."

My eyes widen with awe as a trail of blue light erupts from the tip of the stick, forming a small blue rabbit that hops across the wooden floor, nuzzling its snout against my leg.

"And I can do that?" I reach down to pet the bunny, taken slightly aback when it dissipates into a cloud of sparkling blue particles.

"With training, you can do much, much, more." He nods, "I would like you to come to Beauxbatons in the fall, so you can learn with the other witches and wizards your age. Would you like to do that?"