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The Candlelight Witch’s Daughter

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She was a girl out of time, literally and figuratively, given the circumstances. With nought a penny to her name and no real worldly possessions, 1760s France was not a good place for a woman to wandering alone. However, Faith was no mere woman. 

She was a time traveler and a rather grumpy one at that. 

Tersely adjusting the satchel on her shoulder, Faith trudged up the steps of L'Hôpital des Anges. Careful not to trip on the long skirt she wore, she used her left hand to keep it out from under her feet. She wished she could just whip out her wand and shorten the darn thing, but that would very much garner her unwanted attention.

The witch hunts in France wouldn’t end for another hundred years or so. She’d come this far, she didn’t need to loose it all with a swish of her wand. She’d gone magic-less for this long, she could continue to do it for a little while longer. 

Pushing open the doors, Faith felt her stomach churn at the sight before her. L’Hospital was like many hospitals she had traveled to during her tenure as Raymond’s petite expérimentez. However, it reminded her of eerily of Hogwarts after the Final Battle. She never thought the scent of death would leave her nose that day, only a few scant months ago. 

Faith let out a sigh as she thought of her former life and what had lead her to this moment. The French Minister of Magic hadn’t wanted to get involved in the war in Britain, even advised against it. Yet Faith, Fleur Delacour, and even Madame Máxime had risked their lives despite his warnings. It was her involvement that led, or rather forced Raymond’s hand, to the reveal her kidnapping and the identity of her birth parents. 

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly tripped over someone lying on the floor. Faith moved to apologize yet no words escaped her lips. Instead of a sickly person lying at her feet, it was a Death Eater she had slain. And just like that, she was drawn back to the battle. 

The sounds of sickly coughing were replaced with the eerie silence of a battle come to pass.

At her feet lay a man with a large slash along the his abdomen. She tried to ignore the blood gurgling from the wound like a fountain. Three years ago, when she’d first arrived in Scotland, she could have never imagined fighting in a war. 

Nor would she have guessed she wasn’t some bastard that Raymond had picked up in his journeys across time. 

She pulled a hand back and wiped her own brow, pushing a stray strand of dark, curly, hair behind her ear as she did so. Surveying the courtyard, Faith could see dozens of bodies strewn about. Death Eaters, Order members and civilians alike were lost in battle. 

Death was truly the great equalizer…

“Faith, there you are.” A familiar voice said pulling the girl from her thoughts. 

Faith turned to see Fleur Weasley running up to her. Although, the newest Weasley slowed when she caught sight of her clothes. Faith looked down at herself and a laugh bubbled out of her. She’d forgotten, in the heat of the moment when she’d been summoned, that she’d been preparing for a trip through the stones. 

“What are you wearing?” The blond asked when she spied Faith’s clothes. 

“I was - am — going on a trip.” Faith said as she grabbed a bag from the pocket of her skirt, which she’d placed a temporary shrinking charm on.  

“Where?” Fleur asked confused, “There’s much work be done here.”

Faith looked out over the Hogwarts grounds, catching a glimpse of the highlands in the distance. They were calling out to her. She imagined what it would have been like for her parents, traversing the Scottish countryside. 

She tried not to think about all the lives that had been lost in the battle. All those whole faces she could not stand to see, should she go into the castle. Nor those who would join her parents, lost to time. 

“Home.” Faith turned back to Fleur, smiling sadly. “My work here is done.” 

“What about them?” Fleur quipped, glancing back at the door where she knew her husband’s family was mourning the loss of a brother they both held dear. 

“I’m sure you’ll know what to tell them.” Faith replied sadly as she turned away, tears streaming down her face. 

Before she could move, Fleur was hugging her from behind. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

“Au revoir, old friend.” Faith sniffed as Fleur squeezed her tight. 

The sound of barking caused Faith to abandon her darker thoughts. She looked up only to come face to face with a woman whom the young traveler could only assume was the Head Nun. She clenched and unclenched her hands as her frazzled mind tired to come up with something coherent.

“Bonjour.” She said politely. “I’m looking for Mother Hildegarde.” 

“That would be me child.” The woman replied in English, with a smile. “How may Bouton and I help you?” 

While she had grown up in France and attended school there, Raymond had always forbid her from so much as even thinking about visiting the country in the past — even if it was a simply supply run. Raymond always forbid her to go without him, he always had to accompany her. 

It had never made sense to Faith, but as it turned out hindsight was a bitch with perfect vision. 

Now though, she figured he thought she would leave him if she somehow stumbled upon her parents, someone who knew them, or someone could spot the similarities she had to Claire Fraser. However, there was just one thing wrong with that idea. Why would anyone recognize her? 

She was a dead girl walking to anyone but Raymond. 

“I’m looking for a grave.” Faith swallowed thickly. 

How morbid was it that she was looking for her own grave? 

“This way my dear.” Mother Hildegarde nodded and motioned for Faith to follow her. 

Dutifully, Faith fell in step behind the older woman. Looking around her, she could see people lying on cots with what she could only guess were various illnesses. As she walked past she could see their faces morphing into those of the people she’d lost. If it hadn’t been for her strange blue healing abilities, she would have of been dead along side them that day.



“Miss Masters.” Mother Hildegarde said as she gently took her hand, “What you seek is just beyond this door.”

“Thank you.” Faith nodded, squeezing the woman’s hands before she pushed through the doors. 

Mother Hildegarde watched as the strange young woman walked out into the graveyard. She caught sight of Mistress Fraser crouched over a grave of her own. There was something about Miss Masters that the Head Nun couldn’t quite place. She seemed familiar yet foreign to her — like she’d met her once upon a dream. 

Shaking her head, the head matron shut the doors to give the two souls some peace and quiet amongst the dead. Faith nearly jumped when she heard the door shut behind her and sucked in a breath when other the woman outside looked up at the noise as well. Though her face was particularly obscured by the curls of her hair, there was no mistaking to Faith who this woman was. 

She was Claire Fraser, formerly Lady Broch Tuarach, her mother.

Looking at the woman in front of her was like looking at a future version of herself. Her mother was starting at her now with a curious expression. Though Faith could see her lips moving, the throbbing in her ears drown out anything her mother was saying. Fortunately or not, everything Faith rehearsed in her head during the trip died when they made it to her lips. 

“Hello.” Claire said politely and Faith was amused to hear her mother’s thick English accent. It was something Raymond had made particular note of on that fateful day, “You look a little lost? Are you alright?” 

Was she alright? She was about to meet her mother — no scratch that — she was talking to her mother. She was quite more than alright. She was meeting her mother!

“I have a letter—“ Faith blurted and finally coming to her senses and added, “—from Raymond.” 

Saying the man’s name left a bad taste in Faith’s mouth. Raymond had all but left her with nothing but a letter and a book one fateful day in 1994. Both belongings now sat, feeling like led weights, in her satchel, along with her wand. The fact that he hadn’t the gall to tell her to her face made Faith’s blood boil, considering all that they had faced. 

He was a coward and if she ever saw him again she’d— 

“You know Master Raymond?” Her mother asked, steeping ever closer to her. 

“Yes.” Faith managed to squeak out as she riffled through her bag, “He said it was important I deliver this message to you.” 

Faith grabbed the letter and held it out to her mother who was studying her. She wondered if her mother saw the resemblance between them or if her brain was just rationalizing it away as a mere coincidence. She was there to visit her grave after all. Why would her mother have any reason to think the girl in front of her was her dead child? 

Their fingers brushed lightly as Faith handed her mother the letter. The eldest Fraser child was surprised to note that her mother’s hands were soft, given what she knew of her line of work. They felt like silk compared to Faith’s own calloused ones. Years of working with your hands would do that, she supposed. 

Quietly, Faith watched in anticipation as her mother ran her fingers over the letter. La Madonna was written on the front of it in Raymond’s spiky script, his moniker for her mother. Her story had once been a favorite tale of hers, one Raymond loved to tell her to get her to fall asleep. Looking back, Faith wondered how much of his story had a basis in reality. 

A quiet gasp brought Faith out of her musings. Her mother was pale now, her hands shaking along with her head, as she looked at the letter. She had long ago memorized its contents and could probably recite it from memory if asked. 

La Madonna,

Please forgive me for what I have done. The child will not survive in this time, even with my help. So I feel I must take her somewhere where she can thrive. I have replaced the child with a stillborn, leaving the good Mother unaware. Do not blame her, for there is no one to blame but I. May God give you the strength to find it in your heart to forgive me for what has transpired. I only wanted what was best for the child. 

— Raymond 

Her mother was staring at her now in something akin to disbelief. Faith could see the subtle trembling of her hands by the way the letter within them shook. Though there was something else in her expression, an anger that Faith could not understand. 

Why would she be mad? Her first child had been returned to her! And she wasn’t dead! This should be cause for celebration. Although, the fact she had thought her dead and been lied to for twenty-two years might have something to do with it. 

“How dare you.” Her mother said, her voice rising in anger, “How dare you forge something like this!” 

For a moment, Faith didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it hadn’t been this. She knew that flat out saying that she was her daughter would have gotten her a reaction like this. But after reading the letter, Faith was sure that her mother would have been convinced— 

And just like that, her mother was brushing past her. 

Everything that Faith had been working towards the last four tumultuous years was about to go down the drain. Did her mother have any idea how hard it had been to track her down while trying to fight in a war? She guessed not if her mother thought was just some crazy lunatic. But that couldn’t be father from the truth! 

In a last ditch effort, Faith grabbed her mother’s arm in an attempt to stop her. If she left now, Faith knew would never catch her mother in the hustle and bustle of the Parisian streets. She still had one last trick up her sleeve, something else Raymond had given her the day he upended her life.

“I can prove it.” Faith found herself saying desperately as she dug out her figurative trump card from her satchel, “Please—“

Claire whipped around when her daughter’s hand brushed against her arm. As she did so, Faith shoved a worn looking photo album into her hands. Contained within it was a log of her life, from the mundane to the magical. It started from when they’d landed in 1976 to just about a month before Raymond revealed the truth to her. Pictures and other oddities stuck out at every angle from the yellowed pages of the journal. 

“This—“ her mother said starring at the album, “It is — It’s impossible.” 

Faith smiled sadly. 

“Sometimes—“ She began quietly, “I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Her mother looked up at her then with an odd sort of recognition, not of her but of the words she’d spoken.

“Alice in Wonderland.” She breathed and Faith nodded, “But that’s isn’t published until—“

Her mother quieted as she drew her eyes from Faith to the album. Delicately, she ran her hands along the front of it. The cover was the color of emeralds and felt like velvet. It had the name Faith Hildegarde Louise Fraser printed in gold lettering. 

Gently, she flipped open the first page and discovered a picture of Faith in what looked like a hospital. However, what really took Claire’s breath away was the date of birth that was printed on the photo. According to it, Faith was born in 1976 nearly 200 years after she’d originally been born. Raymond had taken her daughter some 230 years into the future! 

She hadn’t even known that you could travel to a future you were not from let alone— 

“Do you believe me now?” Faith asked cutting across the silence like a knife. 

Her mother looked down at the the open journal in her hands and then backed up slowly, eyes wide and tearful. In what felt like slow motion, Faith watched as the letter and album dropped from her mother’s hands. They dropped like she had seen wands and bodies do in the battle, bouncing against the grass before growing still. 

It felt like someone had dropped the floor out from underneath Faith when she looked at her mother. Claire Fraser’s whole world had been thrown on it’s head in a matter of minutes. This trip was nothing like either of them could have ever imagined. 

“Faith.” Her mother cried, barely above a whisper. “Oh, my darling! My sweet baby—” 

Faith felt herself being pressed to her mother’s chest as tight as she could possibly hold her. It almost felt like if her mother didn’t hug her tight, she would vanish. Honestly, Faith felt like if her mother let go that she’d somehow start floating away into space from how happy she felt. 

It was like someone had given her fizzy lifting juice. 

Slowly, Faith circled her own gangly arms around her mother. She pressed her head of dark curls tightly against her mother’s chest. She didn’t care that it made her back hurt because she had to crouch to do so. Her tears were falling against her mother as they swayed like two trees in the wind.

“My darling, I’m so sorry.” Her mother sniffed, her voice horse. “If had any idea that you’d survived—”

“—I know,” Faith sobbed back, clinging to her mother, “I do, there’s no way you could have known. I didn’t even know until recently—“ 

“You didn’t?” Her mother said as she peered at her daughter. 

Faith shook her head burying her cheek into her mother’s chest. 

“No.” She sniffed and let out a laugh, “I came back to where I was living at the time to find my home destroyed. Well, everything except that letter and album that were sitting in the remains. He couldn’t have been bothered to tell me in person—“

She hiccuped cutting off anything else she was going to say. She felt her mother’s hands on her cheeks, as Faith rose to her full height, brushing away her tears. Raymond told her, not so much in words but in actions, that she favored Claire in her coloring. 

Faith couldn’t have known how right he was until now. 

Raymond left her an address for what she would later learn was for a portrait in a museum that had once been a winery belonging to Jared Fraser. It was there she’d gotten her glimpse at what her parents really looked like. This painting was the catalyst for her multi-year search, during her time in Scotland, for her parents. 

It was hard to believe she would do all this while fighting a war. 

“Come with me.” Her mother said finally, taking one of Faith’s hands in her own, “Come back with me.” 

“Where?” Faith asked sniffing, trying to regain her composure. 

One of the last things she’d found was their tickets for the Artemis. It was because of that which was how she’d been able to guess her mother would be at L’Hospital. Or rather, she’d been able to guess the general range in which she’d be there. 

Admittedly, Faith had been stalking the place for weeks in the hopes of finding some sort of sign of her mother. When she’d caught sight of her mother walking around the area the day before she had been so elated she nearly gave her the stuff then and there. However, the crowd was of the marketplace wouldn’t have been the best reunion spot. 

Then again, neither was her own grave but here they were. 

“To see your father of course.” Her mother said as if it were the most logical thing in the world. 

Please.” Faith breathed nodding furiously. “I would like that very much.” 

Claire retrieved the album and letter from the grass before she lead her daughter out of the graveyard. The two women walked in silence as they made their way through the hospital. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith caught sight of Mother Hildegarde. She was tending to a patient and Faith was glad for it. 

The eldest Fraser child didn’t know if she could explain something like this to even someone to kind as Mother Hildegarde, it might break her. Her mother seemed to have the same idea because she hurried her along. They walked out the doors and soon they were riding in a carriage towards the docks. 

Faith winced as the carriage jumped at every bump in the cobblestone street. Oh how she longed to aparate to their location but she knew she wouldn’t — she hadn’t used magic in what felt like an eternity. Seeing her displeasure, her mother shot her an amicable smile and placed a hand upon one of Faith’s own. She returned her mother’s companionable smile, though it was a little more strained. 

“This makes me miss cars.” Faith sighed, “A lot less bumpy.” 

Her mother laughed at that and Faith couldn’t help but join her. 

“Maybe you can finally help me convince your father that aeroplanes exist.” Her mother smirked.

Faith rolled her eyes good-naturedly at that. She couldn’t blame the man for not believing in airplanes. It was so far out of the realm of possibility in this time that it would seem absurd, even to him. Witchcraft probably less so, Faith mused, but with much more hostility. 

“If you don’t mind me asking.” Her mother began, “But I couldn’t help but notice your slight French accent.” 

Faith stiffened a little. 

“I was raised in the France, when I wasn’t traveling through the stones.” She said as she peered out the window. “But I’ve been to so many places that it’s kinda become an amalgamation of all of them. That’s why my accent isn’t as pronounced.

She didn’t want to discuss her time with Raymond, but she couldn’t blame her mother for being curious. She’d missed out on twenty some years of her life for God’s sake! It was only natural that her mother would want to know what her daughter had done with her life. 

“Did Raymond have you traveling a lot?” Her mother asked curiously and a hint of something Faith couldn’t quite place. 

Thankfully though, anything Faith was or wasn’t going to say was drown out by the carriage attendant. 

“We’re here Mistress Fraser.” The man said as he opened the door for them both. 

Faith breathed a sigh of relief as she followed behind her mother exiting the carriage. When she got out, she saw they had arrived at Paris’s bustling port. Without even thinking, she grabbed one of her mother’s hands, not wanting to loose her again in the crowd. Her mother looked back, almost startled, before her face broke out into the a soft smile. 

Together, the two of them trudged through the crowd, hand in hand. 

“Do you have a ticket?” Her mother asked as she looked around, “We’re heading aboard the Artemis. If not, your father—.” 

“Yes.” Faith replied as she too looked around, although it was less in interest and more in unease. “The ticket was actually how-“ 

“Sassenach!” An unfamiliar voice called out to her mother. “Who’s that wit’ ye?” 

Faith whipped around so that she could see the man and was met by a face she’d only see once before in a portrait. She was so caught up in starring at him that she nearly barreled into her mother. When they stopped, Faith noticed that the man was starring as intently as at her as she was at him. Feeling her precious courage shrivel and die, Faith waited for her mother to speak. 

“Jaime.” Claire smiled at her husband, “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet. Although, perhaps we should take this somewhere more private.” Claire’s voice was quiet and cautious as she looked around again. 

Jaime looked at her quizzically but nodded following behind her and the mysterious young woman. She was an unusually tall mademoiselle, that was for sure. However, there was something about the way she fell in step with Claire that felt familiar. The coloring of the lass’s hair was nearly identical to his wife’s, maybe just a tad bit ruddier. However, when she moved to stick some stray hairs behind her ear the all the pieces seemed to fall into place.

There, right behind her right ear, was a mark in the shape of a diamond. His breath caught in his throat as he followed his wife, and what he realized was his daughter, aboard the Artemis. Together, the three of them made their way to his and Claire’s cabin, careful to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers.

Once Jaime was sure that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard he began to speak. 

“Brianna.” Jaime said, his voice quivering, “Is it really you mo ghruagach dhonn?” 1

Faith turned around and stared at her father for a moment clearly confused, before she turned to mother.

“Who’s Brianna?” She asked aloud frowning.

Jaime shot Claire a puzzled look and Claire could only shake her head. She had a hand over her mouth, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. This was daughter he had never got to met, and probably never would have, had she not literally dropped into their lives. 

What was the saying, like mother like daughter?

“It’s me Papa.” Faith said stepping closer to him, “Faith.” 

“Faith?” He repeated her name, looking past her at Claire, “Is this true Sassenach?” 

“Yes.” She sniffed as she pressed the letter into Jaime’s hands, “Read this. I didn’t quite believe it myself at first.” 

Jaime looked from Claire to the letter and then to Faith. He opened the letter and after retrieving his speckles from his pocket, scanned its contents. Quietly, Faith felt her mother slip a hand into one of her own, squeezing it gently. 

“A Dhia.” Jaime said as he finished the letter shaking it in his hands. “Raymond thu mhic an diabhoil!” 2

“Papa.” Faith said tentatively, “Are you alright?” 

Jaime looked up then, studying Faith. Claire gently eased the letter out of his hands so they could come to rest upon his daughter’s face. Gently he kissed her forehead, whispering something to her in what Claire recognized as Gaelic. 

A small smile crept to her face at the thought. She realized that her husband was so enthralled with the sight of his eldest daughter that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t speaking English. It filled her heart with joy and caused vision to blur with unshed tears.

“You are absolutely precious to me, my little miracle.” Jaime breathed as he placed a kiss upon Faith’s forehead. 

Faith smiled. Gaelic had been her fourth language, behind Chinese, Italian, and English. She’d always wondered why Raymond had wanted her to be a master of languages. She knew it would come in handy in her travels but now it all seemed to make sense. Or at least her learning Gaelic did, even if she was rusty. 

“Tha thu fhèin agus mo mhàthair a ’ciallachadh barrachd dhòmhsa na as urrainn faclan a mhìneachadh.” Faith replied, stumbling a little over her words, hoping she’d gotten the message across. 3

She saw her father’s shocked expression which turned to joy when he realized that she was responding to him in the same language. Claire’s heart tore and mended itself as she realized Jaime probably never thought he’d hear any of his children speak in his mother tongue. 

Faith buried her head into her father’s chest and he cupped her head fiercely against his shoulder. His lips murmuring love into her dark curls as she wept into the crook of his neck. His crinkled eyes were filled to the brim with tears, which were running down his face. 

“Hush, mo naoidheachan.” Jaime murmured, “You’re safe now.” 4

Quietly, Faith eased herself out of her father’s grasp. She retrieved the album from her mother and pressed it gently yet firmly into her father’s hands. Privately, despite his easy acceptance, she still wasn’t convinced he knew it was her. She wanted confirmation that could only come from the album. 

“Are these those photographs, like the ones ye have  Claire?” Jaime asked as he examined the album, squinting at them through his spectacles. 

His eyes filled with tears once again as he ran a hand over the name engraved on the front, just as her mother had done. 

“Faith Hildegarde Louise Fraser.” Jaime breathed letting out a chuckle, “Very French, no?” 

Faith simply shook her head, a bitter laughter bubbling out of her.

“It seemed Raymond wanted to keep Scottish naming conventions even if all my namesakes were French.” Faith surmised with a watery laugh. “I always went by Faith Hildegarde Masters as a child, and I think that’s what on my birth certificate.” 

Jaime opened the album and peered at the pictures tucked within it. 

“These ones are in color.” He murmured in surprised as he adjusted his spectacles, “Not like yours Claire.” 

“Color photography will become more widely available in the late 80s.” Faith explained before she turned serious, “Not to get us off track, but uh — who’s Brianna?” 

Jaime and Claire exchanged looks, seemingly having a conversation that Faith wasn’t privy too. 

She felt her father slipping his hand into one of her own as her mother retrieved some photos from one of the pockets of her dress. The first thing that struck the Fraser’s elder daughter when she looked at the photos was her resemblance to the girl. While the girl in the picture seemed to take after their father in her features, Faith surmised that they were very nearly the same height. 

Judging by the styles of her clothes, Faith could tell that her sister had probably been raised in the 60s. The thought was polarizing to her, knowing that her sister had been raised in a completely different decade. If Raymond hadn’t kidnapped her she’d of known her sister Brianna, instead of only seeing her in photographs. 

“Her name is Brianna Ellen.” Claire smiled, “She turned 18 in November. She’s got your father’s hair and eyes.”

Faith nodded. 

“So I have a sister who’s two years younger than me.” Faith frowned, “Not to mention a mother and a father. All of whom wanted me.” 

Faith sniffed and felt tears returning to her eyes anew. Raymond had taken her from a family that loved and wanted her. He lied to her parents and she was whisked away like a changeling in the night. 

She wanted to reach out to her parents, to have them tell her everything was ok. She didn’t know if they were ready, if she was ready. Faith bowed her head trying not to let her emotions show as she curled her arms around herself. 

“Oh darling.” Claire said as she grabbed Faith’s face in her hands, “What’s wrong?” 

“I just —I— I had a maman and a papa. J'aurais pu être une sœur aînée!“ Faith cried feebly not really realizing she’d only been taking half in English. 5

“Ye are an older sister mo maise.” Jaime said as he gently placed a hand on Faith’s shoulder. “Even if Brianna issna here now, that doesna stop ya from being one.” 6

“But she doesn’t even know me.” Faith frowned, “I didn’t know she existed until just now.” 

“I told her about you.” Claire said causing Faith and Jaime to stare at her, “Brianna knows all about her big sister.” 

Faith gave her mother a watery smile. 

“But she thinks I’m dead maman.” Faith pointed out bitterly. 

“Technically, were all dead by her time no?” Jaime replied, trying to be lighthearted. 

This earned him a smile from Faith which caused him to smile. 

“Thanks Papa.” Faith said quietly. 

Before Jaime or Claire could respond, there was a knock at their cabin door. 

“Milord?” Came an unfamiliar voice to Faith. 

“Fergus?” Jaime answered. 

“Ay Milord.” Fergus said as he opened the door, “There was something— who is this?” 

“Come inside Fergus.” Claire said holding out a hand to him, “There is someone we’d like you to meet.” 

Faith saw him look back out the door, at someone they could not see, before he walked into the cabin. He was staring at her curiously and she reciprocated the action. 

“Hello.” Faith nodded her head. 

“Why does she seem familiar?” Fergus quipped. 

“Fergus, I know this will seem hard to believe.” Claire said as she took her adoptive son’s hand. “But this is Faith, your little sister.”

“Faith?” Fergus said puzzled, “l'enfant qui a péri trop tôt?” 7

“Oui.” Faith nodded noticing his smile at her French, “Je suppose que tu pourrais dire que je suis un petit miracle.” 8

“But how?” Fergus asked, still a bit cautious, “Milday said Master Raymond could no save her.” 

“It seems he did.” Jaime said his voice hard, “Saved her and took her from us.”

“He kidnapped you?” Fergus frowned as the comprehension dawned on him. 

Faith nodded. 

“I only just found out the truth and began my search—“ Faith didn’t get to finish because Fergus had pulled her into a hug. 

“This is wonderful.” He cheered, “God has granted us such fortune.” 

“I’m glad I’m not the only frenchie in the family.” Faith said laughter bubbling out her. 

Her comment got all of them laughing then, and the tension seemed to fade from the room. After Fergus put her down and the laughter died down, he began to speak again. 

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you Milord.” Fergus said as he pushed open the cabin door, “However that would be best discussed above deck.” 

Jaime nodded and so the three Frasers followed Fergus up to the top deck of the boat where they were met by the sight of one Marsali MacKimmie. Faith watched as her father’s face turned multiple different shades of red as he tried to wrap his head around why this girl was there. And although Faith had no idea what was going on she could tell by her Father’s reaction is was not good. 

“Marsali?” Her father gasped, “What the hell are ye doing here?” 

“Fergus and I are married.” She said matter-of-factly. 

“What in the name of holy God d'ye mean?” Her father snapped, “Ye hardly know each other.” 

“We've been courting since last August, and we were handfast this morning.” Fergus admitted. 

“Handfast?” Faith said at the same time as her mother.

“Ah, a custom... It allows two people to be married if they... clasp hands in front of witnesses and declare themselves wed.” Her father explained, “But... not if...” her father trailed off, “Have you bedded her?

“Not yet, Milord.” Fergus said honestly. 

“Ah... Then it's not yet binding.” Jaime said as he turned towards the captain, “Captain! We need to make for shore.”

“If there's anything you need, we'll be putting in at St. Ives for final provisions.” The captain explained. 

“Then Marsali will disembark there. I'll send someone to see her home.” Jaime explained to the captain before he turned back to her and Fergus, “This voyage is too dangerous for the lass. 

“You're taking her.” Marsali said with an accusatory glance towards Claire, “And this trollop.”  

“Claire and Faith are no concern of yours.” Jaime growled.

“You left my mother for this English whore, making her a laughingstock, and ye say it's no my concern?” Marsali gawked, “The hellish nerve ye ha', telling me what I shall do.”

“Ne parle pas de ma maman comme ça, salope!” Faith seethed at Marsali. 9

“Milady.” Fergus said placatingly to Faith before he turned to Marsali, “Marsali, chérie, you must not speak about Milady in such a way.” 

Marsali didn’t look the least bit chastened. Faith glared at her and she had the gall to look smug. 

“Does your mother ken?” Jaime rounded on his step-daughter. 

“I sent her a letter.” Marsali smirked. 

“Then she'll have me killed.” Jaime frowned, “I am sending you home.”

“I'll tell everyone Fergus has already bedded me.” Marsali said smugly, “He hasn't, but I'll say it anyway. So, you see, I shall either be married or ruined.”

“Fine. You can sail to Jamaica.” Jaime ground out, “Then I am taking you home.”

“Fine by me.” Marsali said brightly, acting as if she’d won some great war. 

 “But Fergus doesna touch ye.” Jaime said and Faith was glad to see the girl deflate a little, “We have two cabins. Fergus'll be wi' me. Marsali will be wi' Claire and Faith.” 

“What?” Her mother exclaimed as she grabbed her father’s arm.

“What?” Her father replied confused. 

“Let's go inside.” Her mother insisted, “You're going to be sick.”

“ I... I feel fine.” Her father replied puzzled. 

“No, you don't.” Her mother said through gritted teeth as she dragged her father further inside the cabin. 

Faith was left with the newlyweds on the deck and suddenly felt quite awkward. At least amongst witches and wizards of different places, they had magic to bridge gaps. She didn’t think either of them would take too well to her whipping out her wand. 

“And how do ye ken Daddy and that Sassenach witch.” Marsali asked tartly. 

Faith wanted to laugh at the irony of Marsali’s words but she figured it wouldn't get her on the girl’s good side.

“Faith is Milady and Milord’s daughter, once thought lost to them.” Fergus supplied with a polite smile. 

“Really?” Marsali exclaimed, “Yer really Daddy and that whore’s child? Were you stolen away by the fairies?” 

Faith could hear the condescending tone in the girl’s voice. She could see that Marsali thought she was engaging in some great battle of wits. Not that Faith really wanted to participate, if anything she wanted to be as far away from this girl as possible. 

“Marsali.” Fergus frowned. “Milady—“

“It’s alright Fergus.” Faith sighed, “I was kidnapped by someone my mother trusted shortly after I was born. He recently told me the truth and left me to find them myself.” 

“So he left ye by yerself?” Marsali said and Faith could hear a little sympathy in her voice, catching the elder Fraser daughter by surprise. 

Faith nodded. 

“He was the only family I ever had.” She said, a twinge of bitterness to her voice, “And he just left, vanished into thin air, leaving me with nothing more than a letter and address.” 

“That is awful Milady.” Fergus said sympathetically.

“Please Fergus, call me Faith.” The elder Fraser daughter shot him a small smile, “We are siblings after all.” 

“Oui.” Fergus said with a smile, “That we are.” 

A silence lulled over them as Faith politely extricated herself from the situation. It was all still a little overwhelming, finding her parents and discovering she had not one but TWO siblings — one of who was already married. Faith found herself wandering below deck, giving the lovebirds some space. She ignored the stares she got from the deckhands and other passengers as she walked. 

As a French witch, and delegate of Beauxbatons no less, she had gotten used to being stared at by others. She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered her time in the famous school tucked away in the Scottish highlands. While  it would lead her down a rabbit hole of war and espionage, she would also be free to discover things that would lead to her wandering this ship.

She remembered looking around Hogwarts’ great hall, noting how different it was from what she was used to. Much like she was doing right now on this ship. The Scottish school’s students wore black robes topped with brightly colored scarfs in red, green, blue, and yellow. This was unlike her fellow classmates, who wore robes of silk. 

Faith held her chins high and suppressed a giggle as she images her robes billowing around her. 

The men and women of France during this era could only dream of achieving the elegance they had that day. Faith laughed to herself at the thought. Though she couldn't help but feel sad as she reminisced. 

After their little rehearsed display in the Great Hall, Faith and her fellow delegates seated themselves amongst students dressed in blue. She would later learn were called Ravenclaw, which made no sense to her. How could they be named after a raven when their emblem featured an eagle? 


The young witch turned to her right to see none other than Fleur Delacour smiling brightly at her. Her smile was almost blinding, but she knew it wasn’t some gilded attempt to make men swoon. Feur’s smile was real and genuine, it just happened to be that her smile was beautiful as well.

“Oui Sœurette?” She beamed. 10

“I cannot believe that this is happening.” Fleur squealed happily, “I never thought my parents would agree to let me come here.” 

Faith let out a rueful laugh at that. 

“You and me either my friend.” She frowned at the table, trying to quell the misery and anger boiling within her. 

Fleur’s words conjured images of her trunk in her mind. Contained with it in was what remained of her personal belongings, along with the letter and the album that had been left for her. Initially, Faith had been worried that Raymond wouldn’t let her go to Scotland. Now though, in a cruel twist of fate, she had nowhere else to go. 

He’d vanished into the night leaving her none the—


The young witch looked up from her trunk to see her mother and Marsali entering the tiny cabin. She’d managed to transfigure some pieces of wood on the ground into a suitable hammock for her to sleep in. Luckily, neither of the other inhabitants of the room, nor those on the ship, had seen her.  

“Faith.” Her mother said her name again, knowing she’d never grow tired of her doing it, “You can’t possibly sleep on that.” 

She frowned. Her mother couldn’t possibly sleep in the hammock. Faith had only made it big enough for herself. Now, if Marsali on the other hand wanted to sleep in it…

“I am anyway.” Faith huffed, “You deserve a bed.” 

“Aye. That one's bigger.” Marsali pointed to the top bunk, “You won't bump your head when ye get up.” 

“Marsali, you don't have to try and get in my good graces just so I'll put in a good word with Jamie.” Claire replied evenly, “It's really none of my business.” 

Faith wished she could be anywhere but here for their impending argument. She’d had to deal with enough of those for a lifetime. The girls of Beauxbatons were just like other girls her age, they fought over boys and makeup, and who kissed who. But they didn’t go so far as to let that come between their bond as sisters.

Many a boy of Hogwarts had learned that lesson the hard way during their stay for the tournament. 

“So, ye drop out of the clear blue sky, sticking yer nose where it doesn't belong, ruining my family, and now ye're minding yer own business?” Marsali gasped sarcastically, “Well. Daddy may think you're a wise woman, but I still think ye're a whore.” 

Faith snorted. Marsali was persistent, she’d give her that. The girl in question looked at her and Faith simply rolled her eyes in response causing Marsali to huff. 

“Right, well... the whore should have the bigger bed then, shouldn't she? Mm.” Her mother smiled as she looked at the bed, “If that’s alright with you, darling?”   

Faith was triple checking the physical locks in her truck and nodded absently. 

“That’s fine Maman.” Faith said as she tugged on one of the locks before she turned to them. 

“I’m going to check on your father.” Her mother said as she moved towards the door, “This room had better be her be pristine when I get back.” 

“Don’t count on it.” Marsali replied cheerily as Claire shut the door. “Trollop.” She muttered to herself as she sat down on her bed. 

“You realize that is my mother right?” Faith frowned as she hopped into her hammock. 

“Well when your daddy’s ex-wife suddenly reappears and turns your whole world upside—“ Marsali laughed, “You ken things canna be a little frustrating, no?” 

“I do.” Faith sighed, “Up until a year ago I thought the man who’d raised me all my life was my family. Only, he took off and left my life in shambles. I do ken thing can be a little frustrating.” 

Marsali nodded.

Though silence hung between them, it seemed both girls had come some sort of understanding.