Man of Archives

The school semester at Charmbaton ends around the same time as it does at Hogwarts. There aren't many notable differences, except for occasional competitions among students organized by the Ministry of Magic. The school itself plays no role in these events other than providing the venue.

As my relationship with Fleur deepened, she occasionally stayed overnight, which often led to nocturnal escapades. Let's just say that while her earlier skills may not have been remarkable and were offset by her enthusiasm, she now demonstrated both effort and notable expertise in the art of intimacy. I couldn't have been happier.

Naturally, the professors caught on quickly. Yet, there were no lectures or reprimands from them. Whether this was out of respect for me or sheer indifference, I couldn't say for sure.

The final dinner of the school year was a grand affair. The students' tables were laden with exquisite food, an array of desserts, and more. Joy filled the air as students anticipated the upcoming holidays, seemingly unbothered by the thought of returning in two months or the possibility of difficult tests at the start of the new academic year.

For those who had reached adulthood, the summer ahead promised to be active. They would be preparing to compete in the school tournament, aiming for the honor of tossing their names into the Goblet of Fire to determine who would represent Charmbaton. While I didn't yet know the exact details of the selection process, I was confident it wouldn't remain a mystery for long—after all, the Goblet itself had always chosen the champions in previous years.

Rising from my seat, I addressed the assembly: "Friends, I want to congratulate all of you on completing the school year—and, for some, your education entirely. This year has been a journey: for some, a time of new achievements; for others, a chance to discover themselves and forge new friendships. Much has transpired during this time. Before we continue our feast, I'd like to honor the memory of Director Olivia Maxime with a moment of silence."

The students and professors stood in solemn silence for a full minute, paying their respects to the late headmistress of Charmbaton.

"I am confident she was an outstanding teacher and leader," I continued. "Life is a tapestry of events—some joyous, some challenging. As you step into summer, I hope it is filled with wonderful experiences. I encourage you to keep learning and perhaps even discover something new. Wishing you all a warm and joyful summer!"

Raising my goblet, I returned to my seat. The students happily resumed their activities—eating, chatting about all sorts of topics, and eagerly discussing their plans for the summer.

As for me, I already had a clear idea of how my summer would unfold. Amel had sent two tickets to the Ministry's Box at the Quidditch Championship—for Fleur and me. I considered buying a few extra tickets for potential guests. Perhaps Hermione would want to join, or maybe Nymphadora and Isolde.

This year's Quidditch World Cup was set to take place in Dartmoor, Devonshire, on August 22nd. The finalists were yet to be determined, but most bets were on Ireland and Bulgaria. Ireland, according to the papers, had been obliterating their opponents with staggering scores, while Bulgaria boasted a Seeker of unparalleled skill, outperforming rivals as a master would a novice. In the semifinals, Ireland would face Uganda, while Bulgaria would play Transylvania, who had crushed the English team in a lopsided victory—catching the Snitch wouldn't have saved them.

The following morning, the students began departing from Charmbaton. They had several options for traveling home. The most popular was by train, an idea borrowed from Hogwarts after the French recognized its convenience for discreet transportation among magical folk. The second option was the Floo Network, while the third involved waiting for parents to arrive and Apparate them home.

I had to see Fleur off, as she, like all students, was required to return home for the summer. I would have liked to accompany her, but I still had unfinished business at the school. My responsibilities included conducting an inventory, signing off on closing documents, sending the professors off for their well-deserved vacations, and officially sealing the school for the break.

These tasks took about a week, during which I also focused on some personal research. Most of my efforts revolved around testing theories about the transformation of one substance into another. Unfortunately, my hypotheses didn't hold up. Still, I didn't consider this a failure—negative results are results nonetheless.

At the end of the week, I sealed Charmbaton with a special spell, part of its unique security system. This enchantment not only conceals the school but moves it into another dimension where time ceases to exist. When the time comes, I will unseal it and bring it back to our world.

"Timothy," Amel greeted me warmly. "I'm glad to see you in good health!"

"Hello to you too, Amel," I replied with a chuckle. "How are things on your end?"

"Quite well," he said with a knowing smirk, clearly catching the hint in my tone. "I'm looking forward to the Quidditch Championship finals. That's when things will really heat up at the Ministry."

"Good to hear."

At that moment, Fleur descended the stairs, accompanied by her mother, Apolline, and her younger sister, Gabrielle.

"Timothy," Apolline greeted me with a polite nod. "I trust you'll take good care of my daughter."

"Of course, Apolline," I assured her. "She'll be safe with me."

"Then I wish you both a pleasant journey," she said with a slight nod of approval.

"Fleur, will you bring me some English sweets?" Gabrielle asked eagerly.

"Of course, my little sister," Fleur replied, hugging her tightly. "Alright, I think it's time for us to go…"

"Yes, it is."

Fleur bid her parents a heartfelt farewell. Gabrielle and Apolline gave me warm hugs, and I received a firm handshake from Amel. With our goodbyes complete, we stepped outside and Apparated to the northern coast of France.

Fleur produced her broomstick, a custom-made model crafted by a local artisan, designed specifically for a young witch of her stature and skill. Meanwhile, I carried a cheap, basic broomstick—just enough to get me across the Channel to the English shore. Once there, I planned to purchase a proper broom.

I'd heard from students and read in newspapers about a new broomstick from Nimbus called the "Firebolt." It was reputed to be faster than the Nimbus 2001, with superior maneuverability and other impressive features. Professional Quidditch players had already adopted it.

"Ready?" I asked Fleur.

"Yes," she nodded, adjusting her light scarf before slowly rising into the air on her broomstick.

I followed. The wind was warm and pleasant. It might get cooler further along, but that wasn't an issue for wizards. Along the way, a few other wizards heading to England joined us. I didn't know them, but their emotions betrayed that they recognized me.

The weather in England was just as agreeable. Fleur's registration process was swift—largely thanks to the Aurors and Ministry clerks who immediately recognized me and expedited the paperwork.

Afterward, we headed to what was now my house—a "gift" from my dear friends. There, we were greeted by house-elves who had been diligently maintaining everything in my absence.

"Is this your house?" Fleur asked, her eyes wide with curiosity as she surveyed the surroundings.

"Yes," I replied. "Pick a room and make yourself at home."

"Got it," Fleur said with a nod. She immediately headed to the room she'd chosen, unpacking her belongings and settling in. Magical books, several pairs of boots, and a collection of other items she deemed essential as a witch—and valuable in their own right—quickly filled the space.

When she was done, she stepped into the corridor and inscribed her name on the door with her wand, officially claiming the room as her own. It seemed she was marking it for the future, even though she knew we wouldn't be staying in England long. Our purpose here was to pick up Hermione and resolve a few matters I had pending.

The first thing I did was contact Chiara, who oversaw all the businesses I had acquired.

Since she had full autonomy, expectations for her were high—and I must say, she never disappointed me. On the contrary, she consistently proved herself to be a highly competent individual. While I couldn't evaluate her performance with the precision of a seasoned business professional, the fact that every business under her management remained profitable spoke volumes. That alone, I believed, was an excellent result.

"Thank you for your excellent work, Chiara," I said to her through the enchanted mirror. "I think it's time for a raise."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded, her expression steady but appreciative. "I'll continue doing my best to meet your expectations."

"I'm confident you will."

After our conversation, I sent letters to my acquaintances, informing them that I would be in England for a while and inviting them to meet and discuss some matters. The first letter went to Malfoy. It was time to settle our contract. I was due to receive my payment—money that, while not as critical to me now as it had been last year, was still part of the agreement. In return, Malfoy would receive the knowledge of wandless magic.

To fulfill my end of the deal, I needed to create books. There were several ways to approach this task. The first was to write everything by hand—a time-consuming and tedious endeavor I wasn't eager to undertake. The second option was to copy an existing book, but since I didn't have one to replicate, I had to rely on creative magic.

The knowledge of wandless magic resided entirely in my mind. I needed to transfer it to paper. While this could have been a significant challenge, my expertise in Transfiguration made it manageable. Closing my eyes, I focused on creating the first book, which would serve as an introduction to wandless magic. It covered the foundational requirements for successfully casting even the simplest spell.

Thanks to the Archive, I didn't need to visualize each individual page manually. Instead, I transfigured the complete mental image of the book, including all its pages, and cast a long-duration Transfiguration spell over it.

This spell ensured the books would maintain their form for an extended period. While there was a spell for permanent Transfiguration, it wasn't appropriate for my purposes—I wanted to leave no trace that such knowledge had been transferred.

The books were deliberately unassuming, with monotone covers designed to avoid attracting undue attention. Their sequence was indicated only by their color: the first book was black, the last white, and the others ranged through various shades in between.

I worked late into the night, and by the time I was finished, thirty thick volumes detailing the intricacies of wandless magic sat on my desk. The satisfaction of completing such a demanding task was undeniable. I imagined Malfoy and his associates would be delighted by their contents—I certainly would have been.

Fleur had long since gone to bed, so there would be no late-night diversions.

The next morning started with a large mug of tea, accompanied by toast with jam and butter—a light, simple breakfast. Fleur joined me, eagerly partaking in the same meal.

"What's the plan for today?" she asked between bites.

"The first thing is to meet Hermione and bring her back here," I said calmly. "After that, I'll test her knowledge, and you'll be practicing a specific spell. Meanwhile, I expect replies to my letters to start arriving."

"Will there be a lot of owls?" Fleur asked.

"Not really," I replied with a shake of my head. "I'll just meet with a few people, and after that, we'll move on."

"And where are we going next?" she inquired, her curiosity evident. "You still haven't told me."

"I'll tell you later," I replied with a smirk.

Fleur rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, and returned to her tea.

"Alright, so you don't get too bored, I've prepared a little notebook for you to study," I said, placing a notebook on the table. It was transfigured from my Archive and contained several interesting spells that could prove useful in nearly any situation.

Fleur picked it up and quickly flipped through the pages.

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "I'll work on it. By the time you return with Hermione, I think I'll be ready to demonstrate at least one spell."

"Excellent."

Fleur retreated to her room to study the material I had given her, while I prepared for my meeting with Hermione. My attire was formal yet understated—nothing about it hinted that I was a wizard or associated with any questionable organizations.

I Apparated to a familiar location. Stepping onto the street, I nodded politely to a short, elderly Muggle woman.

"Good afternoon, ma'am."

"Oh, good afternoon, sir," she replied. "Might I trouble you to help me carry these heavy bags to my house? It's just around the corner."

I glanced at the several large bags sitting on the pavement, then at my watch—which I had "magically" transfigured onto my wrist. With a nod, I agreed.

"I have a few minutes to spare," I said. "I'll help you."

Though the bags weren't particularly heavy for me, they were clearly too much for her to manage. Her house, as promised, was just around the corner. After setting the bags in her hallway, I bid her farewell, politely declining her numerous attempts to thank me. It had been a simple task, and her gratitude was reward enough.

Returning to the street, I hurried to Hermione's house. Her mother greeted me at the door, her face lighting up with joy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jody," she said warmly. "It's wonderful to see you. Please, come in."

"Thank you," I replied, stepping inside.

Hermione's father was already in the living room. He extended his hand for a handshake, his demeanor equally welcoming. Both of them remembered how I had healed Hermione when others had given up. As her teacher, I enjoyed their unwavering trust and appreciation.

"Hermione is still getting ready," her mother said with a smile. "Would you like some tea?"

"Why not," I replied with a nod.

We sat at the table and exchanged polite, lighthearted conversation about the weather and other trivial matters.

"Hermione mentioned that you've become the headmaster of a renowned magical school," her mother said. "Is that true?"

"Yes, that's correct," I nodded. "But it's only a temporary position. While the Ministry searches for a permanent candidate, I'm facilitating the school's operations. So far, I think I've done quite well."

"I don't know much about how things work in your magical world," Hermione's father began, "but if I were offered the position of Dean of Dentistry at the Royal Medical University, it would be the highest recognition of my skills and knowledge."

"It's hard to argue with that," her mother agreed with a smile.

At that moment, Hermione entered the kitchen where we were sitting. It was immediately clear she had matured since I'd last seen her, like a flower on the verge of blooming.

"Oh, Mentor!" she exclaimed joyfully, rushing over to hug me.

"And hello to you, my student," I replied warmly as I released her from the embrace. "You've grown a lot over the past year!"

"Of course," she nodded, her pride evident in her expression.

"Are you packed already, sweetheart?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Not yet," Hermione admitted. "But I'm almost done."

"Go on, then," her mother said with a gentle smile.

Turning to me, Mrs. Granger asked, "Timothy—I may call you that, correct?"

"Of course," I said, waving a hand dismissively.

"I wanted to ask, what are your plans for the summer?"

"Plans, plans, plans," I mused aloud. "Primarily, I intend to focus intensively on her education until at least early August. After that, there may be other matters to address, but I can't discuss them just yet."

I refrained from saying more—not out of secrecy, but because, truthfully, I wasn't yet sure what those "other matters" would entail.

"What I can tell you," I added with a small smile, "is that around the end of the month, we'll be back in England. I want to attend a sporting event."

"Oh," Mrs. Granger nodded. "That sounds nice. And where will you be taking her?"

"Let me keep that a secret," I replied, a hint of teasing in my tone.

Sensing a faint tension in their curiosity, I subtly employed a touch of mental magic. Just the smallest trace—so subtle that even an experienced wizard wouldn't detect it. However, for non-magical individuals, even such a minor influence could ease concerns or gently adjust their outlook.

"Alright," Mrs. Granger nodded again, this time with a slightly more relaxed expression.

The conversation then shifted to mundane topics: the weather, current events, and politics. My role was minimal—nodding occasionally and asking open-ended questions to keep the discussion flowing.

After some time, Hermione returned downstairs with her large suitcase in tow.

"Well," I said, clapping my hands on my knees. "Time for us to head out. Are you all packed, Hermione?"

"Yes," she replied with a nod. "I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

Hermione's farewell with her parents was heartfelt and lingered for a while, but eventually, the goodbyes were said. Before stepping outside, I drew my wand and shrank her suitcase until it was small enough to fit easily into her pocket. The wide-eyed amazement on her parents' faces was a reward in itself.

Once we stepped out onto the street, Hermione inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air. After a brief moment, she followed me into a quiet alley. From there, we Apparated directly back to my house.

"Welcome," I said, pausing for effect, "to Jody House!"

With a wave of my hand, I conjured a plaque bearing the same name. Hermione looked around with wide-eyed interest; it was her first time in a truly magical home, and her curiosity was palpable.

Fleur appeared from the hallway, pausing as she noticed her "Senior Study Partner." The two exchanged appraising looks, standing silently for a moment as they studied each other.

It became clear that I'd need to leave them alone for a while so they could find their footing and establish some kind of rapport.

"Fleur, Hermione," I began, "allow me to introduce you two."

"Fleur Delacour," the French witch introduced herself first, her voice smooth and melodic. "Pleasure to meet you."

She spoke in English, her accent adding a charming lilt to her words.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione responded politely.

"I've heard a lot about you," Fleur said, her tone measured.

"Hopefully, only good things?" Hermione replied with a small, knowing smile.

"Alright," I interjected, deciding to cut the formalities short. "Fleur, I trust you'll help Hermione find a room. I have some matters to attend to."

"Of course, Timothy," Fleur replied with a nod.

Leaving them to sort things out, I headed to my study, where replies to my letters were already waiting. I opened the first one, which was from Lucius Malfoy. He expressed his pleasure at my return to England, even if only briefly, and invited me to meet him to discuss an important and intriguing matter. While he didn't provide specifics, it was clear he intended to finalize our contract.

Malfoy proposed a meeting for tomorrow, knowing from my letter that I wouldn't be staying in England long. I decided his timing was acceptable and planned to accept the invitation.

The second letter was from Dumbledore. It was warm and conversational, expressing his delight at hearing from me. While he didn't propose a meeting or specific discussion, he did pose an intriguing question: when did I intend to declare myself a Master of Combat Magic?

That question I mentally shelved for later. Officially receiving the title would require me to travel to Berlin, where one of the Guild branches authorized to issue the necessary ring was located. The thought of making that trip was unappealing, and I decided to postpone it indefinitely. If the Guild wanted to send me the ring and handle the paperwork themselves, I certainly wouldn't object.

In reply to Dumbledore, I penned a simple letter that contained no substantial information, keeping it polite but noncommittal.

***

Fleur and Hermione walked silently down the long corridor of Timothy Jody's house, each immersed in her thoughts about the unexpected meeting. Both had anticipated this moment might come eventually, but neither had expected it so soon. As a result, neither Delacour nor Granger felt entirely prepared.

"How long have you known him?" Fleur asked, breaking the silence. She felt the need to bridge the awkwardness with conversation.

"A little over four years," Hermione replied after a moment. She recognized that open conflict would only strain her relationship with Mentor Timothy, something she wanted to avoid. "He was the first to introduce me to the magical world back when he was still at Hogwarts."

"I met him nearly two years ago," Fleur offered, keeping the conversation going.

Fleur wasn't naive, either. She understood the importance of avoiding conflict with Hermione. Not only would it reflect poorly on her in Timothy's eyes, but it would also complicate their cohabitation. She, too, sought common ground.

Neither harbored ill will toward the other, though both couldn't help but marvel at Timothy's ability to maintain relationships with two witches simultaneously. While one relationship was not yet formalized, it seemed only a matter of time before it would be.

"So, you're from France?" Hermione asked, steering the conversation to neutral ground.

"Yes," Fleur answered. "Why?"

"I've always wanted to learn French," Hermione said, trying to connect. "It'd be wonderful if you could help me with it."

"Of course," Fleur replied, relaxing slightly. "And you could help me with my English… Deal?"

"Deal."

For the first time, Fleur felt a faint pang of insecurity about her appearance—something entirely new to her. She wasn't accustomed to meeting someone who could rival her in any way, let alone possibly surpass her. Hermione's quiet intelligence and unassuming beauty challenged Fleur's confidence. She realized why Timothy had chosen Hermione as his student—there was something more profound in their connection, something Fleur found herself envying.

Fleur also noticed something else. She'd always heard that English witches were not traditionally beautiful by French standards. Yet, meeting Hermione forced her to reconsider that assumption.

"Alright, ask," Hermione said suddenly, breaking Fleur's train of thought. "I can tell something's bothering you."

"You're very beautiful," Fleur admitted honestly. "Could you recommend any creams or potions?"

"Hah," Hermione said, blushing slightly. Compliments weren't something she was used to. "Well, you'd have to ask Timothy about that. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even come close to competing with a Veela."

"Oh?" Fleur raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How so?"

"Well…" Hermione hesitated. "There was an incident at Hogwarts—a life-threatening one. If it weren't for Mentor stepping in, I wouldn't be here. I'd be six feet under."

"So, he saved your life," Fleur said softly, her voice tinged with understanding.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "And since that moment, I've felt indebted to him. So…"

"Very mature reasoning," Fleur said, her tone thoughtful.

"Hmph," Hermione snorted lightly.

This exchange gave Fleur a glimpse into Hermione's perspective on Timothy Jody. Perhaps it wasn't as simple as she'd thought. With a newfound sense of respect, Fleur suggested Hermione take the room directly across from her own, which was situated at an equal distance from Timothy's bedroom.

"And how are we going to coexist?" Fleur asked, breaking the silence as Hermione began inspecting the room.

"Just fine," Hermione said, surveying the space and imagining how she might arrange it. "I'm not even fifteen yet, so I'm not planning to kick you out of his bed. But when I turn sixteen… you might want to make some room."

Fleur blinked, surprised at the bluntness of the statement. The conversation had taken an unexpectedly strange turn, but she decided to let it go. There wasn't much she could say. Todays she was just a chill gall.

"Alright, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Fleur sighed. "Do you need help with anything?"

"No," Hermione replied simply.

***

"Well, how are you two getting along here?" I asked the girls after finishing my letters.

Fleur was in the room Hermione had chosen for herself. They were engrossed in conversation. While I could have delved into their minds or directly asked about the topic, there was no need. I trusted that whatever they were discussing wasn't anything troubling.

"Let's go have lunch, and then we'll move on to the important matters," I suggested.

Lunch was straightforward—nothing extravagant or likely to impress a gourmet. The only thing missing, perhaps, was unicorn milk ice cream. Then again, males don't produce milk, so it wasn't an option.

The table was modest in size, and the seating arrangement facilitated easy conversation. Hermione sat to my left, Fleur to my right, with the house-elves handling the preparation and serving of the meal.

"So, here's the plan," I began after we'd finished the main courses and waited for dessert. "I need to tie up a few matters in England. It shouldn't take long, but these things have a way of being unpredictable. During that time, I'll be testing Hermione's knowledge and providing Fleur with more material to study. Speaking of which, how's the notebook coming along?"

"Not bad," Fleur replied. "I've started working through the first spell, but I haven't begun practicing it yet."

"Good," I said with a nod. "Hermione, be ready—I'll be testing you."

"Always ready," she replied confidently.

"Excellent. Next, we'll head to Diagon Alley for some shopping, and then we'll set off on a short trip where I'll be working more closely with you both. We're going to an island called Gran Canaria."

"What's there?" Hermione asked, her surprise evident.

"It's the residence of the headmaster of Charmbaton," I explained. "As headmaster, I have the privilege of staying there."

"The Canary Islands?" Hermione asked again, a spark of curiosity lighting her face.

"Yes," I nodded.

"I've read a lot about them," Hermione said. "They're a popular destination for tourists."

"I don't think we'll be interacting with tourists much," I replied honestly. "We'll be focused on other matters."

Testing Hermione's knowledge was divided into two phases.

The first was theoretical. I needed to evaluate how far she had progressed in her understanding of magical concepts. Honestly, I was impressed by her ability to retain and analyze vast amounts of information. My Archive, of course, could store and process far more, but that was entirely different. Could Panacea—the potion—have enhanced her mental capabilities? Probably. Would it have a similar effect on me if I took it? Possibly… though predicting the outcome was difficult. The drawback, however, was clear: Panacea could only be taken once. A second dose would overwhelm the body, with fatal consequences.

The second phase was practical. Outside, I tested her ability to cast spells and weave complex magical effects. While she displayed exceptional aptitude for her age, there were noticeable gaps in her ability to create intricate magical constructs. This was understandable, given that she had just completed her third year. Still, her knowledge and innate power suggested she was ready to begin advancing to the next stage.

The first step in her advanced training would be learning silent casting. She had the magical strength for it, despite the fact that most students were not introduced to this technique until their sixth year. Mastering it early would significantly enhance her abilities as a witch.

"Well, what can I say," I began as Hermione cast Bombarda with a wave of her wand, shattering the large boulder I had transfigured for her. "You're showing excellent results for someone who's just finished their third year at Hogwarts. I think you'll make significant strides in magic over the summer."

"I could've achieved more if I'd had better opportunities," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Don't worry, I don't hold that against you," I replied with a dismissive wave. "If I'd been working with you all year, you might have made greater progress in certain areas. But, again, it's not an issue. This summer, we'll dive into some specialized domains of magical arts. I think you'll find them fascinating."

"And what exactly will we be studying?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"We'll start by enhancing your spellcasting skills, then move on to multifactor spell weaving and wandless magic."

"Oh," she said, stretching the word with interest. "And how will that work?"

"Very straightforward," I chuckled. "You'll practice magic every day. Before we leave for the island, you'll need to thoroughly master the theory of fourth-year spells. Either Fleur or I will help you refine them. Once we're on the island, I'll intensify your training."

"What about other subjects?" she asked, her enthusiasm tempered by practicality.

"As much as I'd love to cover everything," I said thoughtfully, "you probably won't have time for other subjects. Once you've perfected the fourth-year spells, we'll move on to fifth-year spells."

"Wow," she said, her voice filled with awe.

"Don't worry," I said, shaking my head. "If it gets too difficult, we'll slow down. Besides, we'll have plenty of time next year to work on it."

"Next year?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yes," I replied. "Hogwarts will host an international tournament, and Charmbaton will participate."

"I see," she said with a nod. "So, you'll be back at the school?"

"As one of the headmasters," I confirmed.

"Won't that look strange?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry about that," I said, dismissing her concern with a wave. "If it becomes an issue, we'll find a way to handle it."

Her concern wasn't unfounded. As a non-Hogwarts headmaster, I might be seen as an outsider, and certain areas of the school could be off-limits to me. Dumbledore, no doubt, had various measures in place to monitor visitors to the ancient fortress.

Another potential issue was Hermione. Some students might not take kindly to a Hogwarts student receiving personal instruction from the headmaster of a rival school. It could be perceived as a slight to Hogwarts' honor.

In short, there were possible complications. I would need to think carefully about how to handle them.

"Mentor," Fleur called, drawing my attention. She had waited until I finished testing Hermione's knowledge. "I don't understand why this spell uses this particular tail-form instead of the Bogolyubov form."

"Hmm," I mused. With a flick of my wand, I cast the spell using the tail-form described in the book, then followed it with the Bogolyubov form. "Do you see the difference?"

While I could have given her the correct answer outright, I wanted her to analyze it and think through why the finishing flourish of the spell was designed this way rather than the seemingly more intuitive alternative.

Fleur frowned, studying the spells carefully but remained silent.

"Look again. Carefully," I encouraged.

I cast the spell twice more, demonstrating each finishing form with precision.

"I think I understand," she finally said, exhaling. "The Bogolyubov form makes the spell less controllable and expends more magical energy."

"Correct," I nodded. "As you already know, the Bogolyubov form is excellent for combat spells, where wizards typically don't conserve magical energy. Whether it's right or wrong depends on the situation. Everyone can have their own approach to using magic and spells."