The Very Last Horcrux

Chapter Eight - At Beuxbatons Academy of Magic: Welcoming Feast

Bella Shaw and Autumn traveled in a carriage coached via an Abraxan Flying Horse. Autumn was mesmerized by its beauty. She mistook it by unicorns of which purely existed in rough book leaves. Through pages of Mythology by the much loved author Homer, she became acquainted with Pegasus. But the Abraxan Flying Horse was no Pegasus. Its hooves and wings echoed in the sky bouncing from one cloud to another as it flew. The Abraxan Flying Horse inhabited a serious yet quaint attitude.

It took them two hours to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. That quick, the Abraxan Flying Horse showed no exhaustion. Still dark, at their arrival, a she- house elf named Flimereth, greeted them. Flimereth have long pointy ears, head with little strands of hair, long curled eye lashes, and a prim posture. The she-house elf half bowed, clapped three times whence an elegant gigantic gate swung open, leading them to a blue silver-ish stairway hidden below mountain ranges of Mersailles near Alps. This was a secret entrance.

The stairway steps were too steep. And yet, they have managed passing. At the end of staircase directed on a plain pathway. Pixie dusts were everywhere. Autumn, hand in hand with Shaw, strolled along pixie dusts sticking on their skins. For a moment, they halted. Flimereth waved her arms. Immediately, fireflies lit the tunnel out below the mountains. Across a palace came into view surrounded by grand gardens. Hence, they crossed a river riding a boat.

The main entrance of the palace had an emblem of Beauxbatons. A coat of arms was at the center of blooming spiral flowers framing it. The heart of this crest were two wands forming an "x" and three stars at the tip of each wand. A close relation approached and introduced herself as Perenell Flamel gave a warming cheek to cheek welcome to both Autumn and Shaw.

"Who are you?" asked a stunned Autumn.

"I am Nicolas's wife. You arr my grenddowter," expressed Perenell, emphasizing a French accent.

"Are we really in France?" asked Autumn, pulling Shaw's skirt.

"I'm confused," stated Autumn. "How come you did not live with Gran-Gran?"

Perenell blew a sand. Autumn fell asleep. It was the last sleep sand powder in her collection. Perenell meant to use it for none other than her granddaughter. She scooped up Autumn and settled her in a room designed with vintage curtains. Closing the door, she enquired what happened.

"You-Know-Who was there. Dorothy was one of his followers. They punished Autumn." In all honesty, Bella Shaw narrated briefly.

"I new eet." Perenell's accent was very thick. "I told him zat set Dorowthee iz ey wicked squib."

"Is there anything you still wish of my service, Madame?" asked Shaw.

"Nussing. Go zu zsleep," commanded Perenell.

She retired to bed too, lying next to Autumn. Perenell pitied her granddaughter. As far as she's concerned her granddaughter was not a criminal for Autumn to deserve enduring intoxicating karma. Was inventing the stone a mistake? Perenell trailed back to her past with Nicholas. Those were hallowed days.

Perenell had been very very emotional wandering about those days. Bit by bit, the room transformed into a picturesque gothic styled room. Velvety maroon curtain draped down sweeping the floor. When she opened her eyes, she went back to her youth, back where fate led her falling head over heels with Nicholas Flamel.

Perenell was dressed in a balloon puffed sleeves, skirt distended. She graced her way to the group of young men staring at her. There he was, handsome, in a medium sized coat, hair combed and sprayed in place backwards, eyes glinting with love. He held out his hand, palms up, asked her to dance. Without hesitating, she took his hand.