A series of letters between Samuel Griffith and Étienne Vicquemare, Alchemy Professor at Beauxbatons.
December 14th, 1894 — London
Dear Étienne, I hope this letter finds you well. This may sound serious and even dramatic, but I ask you to remain at ease. I am writing you regarding my will, because I intend to leave to you my most treasured writings for safekeeping, both of scientific and of private nature. A cache of them will be en route to your residence, as soon as you grant me your permission. In the event of my untimely (or timely) demise, I entrust to you to do with them as you please. I already visited the notary.
Let me know how you are faring, my friend. The term at Beauxbatons is treating you as well as ever, I hope. And how is Yves?
Yours,
Samuel
December 15th, 1894 — Beauxbatons
Samuel, mon cher ami, what a dreadful letter. I opened it over breakfast and lost my appetite. What is the matter with you? At the soirée in September you looked well. You appeared, dare I say it, more content than I saw you in a very long time. Your decision to teach met my full approval, you know it — I always say you need to find a raison d'être better than ambition or duty to your terrible family. It does not sustain a life forever. The students cannot be that grating to your nerves? So what is it with this morbid talk of your demise?
Explain yourself, please.
Merci,
Étienne
P.S.: Let's not talk of Yves, the scoundrel.
P.P.S.: Of course I grant you permission to send me your writings. I admit, I hope to receive some of your more valuable possessions, if you indeed shuffle off this mortal coil soon. Not to insult your literary talents. Think of that, on your next visit to the notary.
December 15th, 1894 — Hogwarts
Dear Étienne, My apologies for causing disturbance to your breakfast — I know how much you cherish it. I can only repeat that you may be at ease; I hold on to my existence on this plane as spitefully as ever and I harbour no deathwish that I know of. However, did you notice we are getting old? It did not even take us long. You have that belly now, because you still drink too much wine, and I am going grey. That is all well. With age I seem to have lost my belief that I am invincible. It does not appear that I gained in its stead the ability to make wiser decisions. For this reason I think it sensible to consider what will be left behind, and to whom. Speaking of, what valuable possession exactly might you be after? I know you have something specific in mind. Name it, perhaps I can learn to be generous posthumously.
I am sorry that Yves has upset you. Did you throw him out on the street again?
Yours,
Samuel
P.S.: I need to tell you that I appreciate that your letters always entertain me, even when you are cross with me.
December 23rd, 1894 — Paris
Samuel, Casse-toi. If you think your letter set me "at ease" as you call it, I regret to inform you that you need to exert more effort, and try to insult me less while you do it. You omit everything important and you think I don't notice. I remain cross with you.
The cache has arrived. What am I to do with it? Can I open it, or is that only permissible after you make your home in the far pale yonder?
Étienne
December 24th, 1894 — London
Étienne,you may open it. Some of our earliest letters to each other are in there. Have a look, it will lighten your mood. Merry Christmas.
Yours,
Samuel
