By the time he came out of the French Ministry of Magic, the sky had grown mostly dark.
Lin Ze stood on the stone steps at the entrance, watching the magical streetlamps gradually light up in the distance, when he suddenly realized a serious problem.
He did not know where the Delacours lived.
Last time, he had visited their townhouse in London. He had no idea where their Paris residence was.
"Mr Lin." A shrill voice came from beside him, somewhere below.
Lin Ze looked down and saw a House-elf wearing a tea towel looking up at him.
This House-elf looked somewhat familiar.
"Master sent me to fetch you." The House-elf bowed, the corner of its tea towel brushing the ground.
Lin Ze followed the House-elf across two streets and into a quiet residential neighborhood.
The buildings here were more old-fashioned than those in the West End of London. The street-facing windows all had ornate wrought-iron railings, and lit magical lanterns hung over the porches.
The Delacour home stood at the end of the street, a four-story old sandstone-colored building with two bay trees trimmed into squares by the entrance.
The House-elf pushed open the wrought-iron gate and led Lin Ze down a short cobbled passage into an inner courtyard enclosed by buildings on all four sides.
Several lemon trees grew in the courtyard, and an unlit oil lamp sat on a wrought-iron table beneath them.
"This way, please."
The dining room was on the second floor, a little smaller than the one in London but decorated in much the same style, with pale gray walls, dark wooden furniture, and a crystal chandelier overhead casting a warm yellow glow.
Mr Delacour was already seated at one end of the long table, holding a glass of red wine.
When he saw Lin Ze enter, he merely gave a slight nod by way of greeting.
Olivia sat opposite him in a pale blue dress, her long hair loose over her shoulders.
Her eyes lit up when she saw Lin Ze enter, but before she could speak, a witch Lin Ze had never met stood up first.
She wore a dark green robe and was a little shorter than Olivia, with darker blonde hair gathered into a loose bun at the back of her head.
"Mr Lin Ze, we finally meet." The witch held out her hand to Lin Ze.
"The number of times Olivia has mentioned you to me probably exceeds the total number of sentences she has ever spoken in French."
"Mum!" Olivia's face instantly turned red.
"I'm only stating the facts."
Mrs Delacour showed her daughter no mercy. "After she came back from Britain last time, she spent an entire week talking about how brave you were, how capable you were, how-mmph-"
Olivia clapped a hand over her mother's mouth.
Lin Ze stood there, momentarily unsure what expression to wear.
Fortunately, Mrs Delacour did not continue the subject and smiled as she invited him to sit down.
Dinner was French home cooking.
A layer of melted, toasted cheese floated on the onion soup, the duck confit had been seared until its skin was crisp, and dessert was chocolate lava cake, which released warm chocolate sauce when pierced with a spoon.
Mrs Delacour was a woman of few words, but she was very good at looking after people.
She noticed that although Lin Ze was conversing with them in French, his spoken French was clearly rather rusty, so she took the initiative to switch to English.
She asked Lin Ze a few questions about the Britain Ministry of Magic, chatted about the recent weather in London, then changed the subject and began recounting embarrassing stories from Olivia's childhood.
"When she was six, she sneaked a ride on her father's broomstick, but she flew too high and couldn't get down. She was stuck on the roof crying for over an hour."
"Mum!"
"In the end, her father had to climb up a ladder and carry her down." Mrs Delacour completely ignored her daughter's protest.
"After that, her father locked the broomstick in his study and hid the key somewhere she couldn't reach."
Lin Ze pictured a six-year-old Olivia stuck on the roof, crying her eyes out, and could not help laughing.
Olivia kicked him under the table.
Mr Delacour kept a cold expression throughout. He wielded his knife and fork with meticulous care, cutting his duck confit with surgical precision.
But Lin Ze noticed that when Mrs Delacour recounted Olivia's childhood embarrassments, the corners of this stern French official's mouth moved ever so slightly, though he quickly suppressed it.
"I hear you're going to Marseille with Dad tomorrow?" Olivia poked at the mashed potatoes on her plate with her fork and looked up at Lin Ze.
"Yes."
"Then I'm coming with you tomorrow."
"No," Mr Delacour said without looking up.
"Why not?"
"You have to report to the Department of Magical Legal Affairs tomorrow. Your internship isn't over yet."
Olivia puffed out her cheeks, but she knew her father would not budge on something like this, so she turned to her mother, pleading with her eyes.
Mrs Delacour elegantly sliced her duck leg and said unhurriedly, "Olivia, your father is right. Missing one day of work will throw the whole schedule afterward into disarray. Besides, the trip to Marseille is official business. It wouldn't be appropriate for you to tag along."
Knowing that calling for reinforcements was no use, Olivia irritably speared a large piece of cake and stuffed it into her mouth.
After dinner, Mrs Delacour brought out a pot of Earl Grey tea.
She poured everyone a cup, then looked at Lin Ze as though something had suddenly occurred to her.
"By the way, Mr Lin Ze, have you used that box of soap I gave you last time?"
Lin Ze's hand stiffened around his teacup.
That box of soap again.
"Well... not... not yet..." Lin Ze set down his cup, not daring to look Mrs Delacour in the eye.
"I've been so busy with work in London. I often work late, and sometimes I fall straight into bed when I get back to my flat. As for toiletries and things..."
"Young people need to take care of themselves," Mrs Delacour said earnestly.
"That soap contains plenty of herbal extracts. It's good for both your skin and your hair. Your skin looks quite healthy, but the ends of your hair are a little dry. You must have been overworking yourself lately."
"Ah... all right..."
Beside him, Olivia pressed her lips together, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
Lin Ze decided to find that box of soap as soon as he got back. If he still did not use it, he would be letting his future mother-in-law's concern go to waste.
Halfway through tea, Mr Delacour suddenly put down his cup and stood.
"Lin Ze, come with me for a moment."
Lin Ze exchanged a glance with Olivia, then set down his teacup and followed Mr Delacour out of the dining room.
Mr Delacour's study was on the third floor, a room with books stacked along all four walls.
A dark green desk lamp stood on the desk, its shade embroidered with the emblem of the French Ministry of Magic. Its light clearly illuminated several documents spread across the desktop.
Mr Delacour closed the door and gestured to a leather armchair in front of the desk.
Lin Ze sat down.
Rather than going behind the desk, Mr Delacour sat opposite Lin Ze.
"I've thought a great deal about what you said last time."
As he spoke, he rested his interlaced fingers on his knees, his cane leaning against the armrest.
"You were right. France isn't a safe house either. Although the Dark Lord's forces never put down very deep roots here, the roots that remain are far more tangled than we imagined."
He paused, his gaze lingering on Lin Ze's face for a moment before shifting away.
"But as a father, my position remains the same. I don't want Olivia living in fear all day."
"I understand, sir."
"You don't understand a damn thing." Mr Delacour's tone suddenly changed, and a crack appeared in that cold, rigid mask.
"You're only eighteen. What do you know? Do you think surviving a battlefield makes you capable? Do you think catching a few Death Eaters proves your ability?"
Lin Ze was taken aback by this sudden outburst.
Mr Delacour rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry. The pressure really has been too much these past few days."
"Since the Dark Lord's downfall, at least three groups of British Death Eaters have attempted to enter through France."
Lin Ze frowned.