Dear Father

[Mathias Beaumont]

May 21, 1884

Dear Father,

It's been exactly one year since your death as I write this, sitting on the edge of my bed at home. Nothing can describe the painful emotions that are rushing through my body at the moment. I know you can't really read what I'm writing, but it still feels better if I address these entries to you.

The day after you passed, I went to Gringotts and deposited your fortune into my account, but I have no intentions of using any of it any time soon. I'm too young to have inherited such an amount of galleons, and I feel it's inappropriate to start spending it all right away. Your funeral was unbearable for me and I had to leave early to preserve my dignity before I lost it all in front of all those people. I still regret not being able to watch your burial and say my last farewell.

Mother is still in mourning, of course, but I'm officially out of it—it doesn't feel right, though. I still miss you to bits and still can't help the tears that trail down my cheeks every morning when I wake up and realize you're not there. I don't plan on attending the annual coming out ball at Hogwarts this year—it's still to early to look for a potential wife. Mother's trying to convince me otherwise, but I believe I'll know when it's the right time to start searching for my feature spouse. I still do worry, especially now that I've received my inheritance, that a woman will only want me for my money instead of wanting me for who I am on the inside.

I'll have to write again, soon. Victoire is calling for breakfast. I love you father, and I'll never stop missing you.

Your loving son,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

May 31, 1884

Dear Father,

Even though I'm officially out of mourning I can't help but continue to cry every morning. It makes me upset that the girls and mother don't seem as upset as I do—you were such a great man and you deserve the tears. I went out with Javert to the pub last night and got drunk for the first time in a while; I think it helped take away the depressing emotions for a few hours.

Mother told me that you'd hope I'd find a woman before I turned twenty eight, so I've decided to honor your wishes and start the search for a wife. I'm following what you and mother always taught me—marry for love rather than the sake of keeping my blood pure. I find it difficult to even think about having such feelings for a woman while I'm still filled with feelings of sadness. I met a middle class woman down at one of the shops, and she seemed nice. I just worry about marrying a woman inferior to myself due to my insecurity of a marrying a gold-digger.

You weren't around when it happened, but Francoise has conceived another child in the past year and is expecting at the end of July. With her three daughters, she and her husband are hoping it's a son—I do, too. I hope I'm never put in such a situation where I have to have a dozen children to finally get a heir. Hopefully my future wife will be like mother and produce a son on the first time around. I'd be disappointed if otherwise, but I'd still adore my daughter and spoil her rotten.

I must go now, father. Dorothee is in town with her husband and they're coming to visit me. I'll write again in a few days.

I miss you to bits,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

June 5, 1884

Dear Father,

Today mother told me how much I reminded her of you. She said I had such a kind heart and didn't have a mean bone in my body. It all started when I had to go through the slums to get to the park where I was going to spend my day, and I saw group of small children walking along the rusty buildings.

They were all undernourished and some of them were even crying, and I wondered if they even had parents. I was struck with the memory of the day I lost you, and I demanded that the carriage be stopped for a few moments while I got out. When I got up close, I noticed it was much worse than I thought. One of the children had a large cut on her upper lip, and one of the boys had scabs covering his arms, which turned out to be from where he'd scratched bug bites. I might be a little hesitant to have kids due to the uncontrolled, wild ones that roam High Street, but my heart ached in this particular situation for these poor children.

I wanted to get them out of there, to find their parents, but doing such a thing could leave a bad mark on my reputation if anyone were to find out. Instead, I pulled out three sickles and a few knuts and handed them to the eldest child there. You should have seen the look of delight and gratefulness on their dirty faces. When I think back to it, I believe I did that because I knew you'd do such a thing if you came face to face with it.

I won't tell anyone about it, but I'll always feel good about being able to help them. Mother definitely will, and she spent the rest of the day giving me looks of admiration that I hadn't seen since I got my NEWTs results after I graduated Hogwarts. I have to go now—it's late, and my back's been aching all day. I'll write again soon.

Forever your little boy,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

June 8, 1884

Dear Father,

Today was an interesting day. I was at Honeyduke's looking for chocolates for Francoise—that's what she's craving right now—and a little brat of a child ran past me, ripping the robe you gave me on my twenty fourth birthday. I went home right away and changed into something simpler, and then I went to Twilifit and Tatting's to get it fixed.

It had only been a few minutes after the seamstress started working on the robe that I heard the bell on the door to the entry of the store ring. I turned around to see who it was like anyone else would, and you wouldn't believe what I saw. It was a young woman who looked no older than nineteen or twenty coming in with her chaperon—and Merlin she was gorgeous.

She was tall and slender, though the dress she was wearing complimented her figure beautifully. She had long, chocolate brown hair that framed her face perfectly, and her pale blue eyes were visible from where I was sitting. I greeted her politely, and to my surprise she seemed to take an interest in speaking to me. She obviously belonged to the upper class by the way she was dressed, but I still was worried about being as attracted to her as I was—I'm still afraid of gold diggers. Her name was Miss Zane.

We had a delightful conversation that seemed to get a little personal, but she opened up to me and we even played a little game where I tried to guess her first name! I figured out that it started with a Z like her brothers' names, but I miserably failed the first time around. What names could really start with the letter Z? I had to leave, but I do plan on trying to find a few of Miss Zane's acquaintances so I can finish our game the next time I see her.

I'm still afraid I'll grow attached to her, but she seemed to show a similar interest in me, too—but for what reason I do not know. I hinted that I would be at the festival in the upcoming days and I hope to see her there, too. She was the first real woman I thought about being a suitable wife, but I must get to know her better to see for sure.

I feel like I could go on and on about this, but it's dinner time and Victoire is calling for me. I miss you father, and I'll give you an update if I see her again!

Love,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

June 11, 1884

Dear Father,

In the past few days I've been looking around for women who might have known Miss Zane while at Hogwarts, and I managed to find a group of ladies who were in her year in school. I hinted to them that I was interested in her and tried to learn more about her, and they were more than glad to tell me a little about her.

It turns out her name is Zephyra Zane—how unique, right? I'm hoping to see her at the festival when I go back, seeing that I hadn't met her when I went for the first time on the ninth of June. She really is beautiful, and I haven't stopped thinking about her. I'm not sure if I'm merely feeling lust instead of like, but I surely hope that's not the case.

I couldn't sleep last night, or the night before now that I think about it. I keep waking up minutes after I fall asleep and I just end up going and sitting at the dining room table until I'm too tired to sit and stare at the wall anymore. I hope this insomnia is temporary—having dark circles isn't very attractive.

I think I'm going to go get a pet kneazle at the Beautiful Beast Boutique today—remember the one Miss Hart had growing up? I've grown tired of the loneliness, and even though I have Victoire, she's merely not enough anymore. I have to go, but I'll be back and write again soon. I miss you father.

Signed,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

June 12, 1884

Dear Father,

It's around one in the morning and I still can't sleep. I've lit a candle at the dining room table and I decided to write to you. I bought that kneazle that I was talking about—I named it Magnus. He's a little skittish, but he loves to be petted and seems to like me. He sure chases off those pesty gnomes that never seem to go away. Isn't he cute?

Mother almost had a heart attack when she saw him—she's never really liked those things much at all. She'll come around once she sees how friendly he is for sure. As I write he's sitting on top of the table—I finally let him after I had to fight with him to get down—sleeping, and you should hear the purring coming from him right now. He's kept me company most of today.

I'm hoping that I'll be able to get some sleep tonight so I can go see Zephyra at the festival. If she's not there I'll be disappointed, but maybe I'll be able to get those chocolates for Francoise that I wrote about a few entries ago.

I must go now father, I can barely hold the quill anymore without drifting back to sleep, but I'll be sure to write if I see Miss Zane later. I miss you.

Love,
Mathias

  

[Mathias Beaumont]

June 12, 1884

Dear Father,

I won't be able to write for very long because I'm about to go to the festival! I'm hoping Miss Zane will be there, and I will be terribly disappointed if she's not. I went over to mother's house today and found a picture that Oceane seemed to have in a collection of pictures from Hogwarts.

This, father, is Miss Zane. Isn't she just as beautiful as I said she was? Her long, brown hair and icy blue eyes are something that a man could get addicted to looking at—that's one of the reason's I'm so happy to have this picture! I wish I would have gotten a picture of her from the day I met her; that would be a memory I could look back on.

Oh Merlin, father, it's time to go. I'll write again soon!

Forever your loving son,
Mathias