An Enlightening Conversation

Archer stretched out on his bed as his thoughts went to the surprise party his parents had thrown for him. His roommates and Fleur, with their families, had made the trip to the chateau via portkey. His parents had not suspected anything, as he had made sure to not let on that he was aware of their plan.

They had mentioned reservations at a swanky and exclusive restaurant in Paris and sent him upstairs to get changed into some formal clothes they had prepared for him. He followed their instructions without complaint and gone downstairs once he had finished getting ready.

The darkness of the dining room had been the first clue, but he had smiled and walked forward, calling out for his parents. Upon entering, the lights were thrown on and he heard an exclamation of "Surprise!", along with several resounding cracks as party poppers exploded, showering him in multicolored tape and confetti.

He feigned surprise as he walked over and gave his parents a hug. While they hadn't been nearly as sneaky as they thought, the amount of effort and care they had put in made him feel warm inside. He went around greeting the guests and got his first look at Fleur's family.

They looked exactly as he remembered them, except younger. Apolline Delacour was as stunningly beautiful as ever, with Antoine looking dignified with his aristocratic features and well-groomed goatee.

Archer took more time to observe Antoine, as this was the man who would become the Head of the French Aurors and later, the French Minister for Magic. He wasn't aware of the particulars of Antoine's background, as he hadn't spent much time with the man. He hadn't been very welcoming after receiving the news of his eldest daughter's death in the war.

This time around, he wanted to properly establish a close relationship with him. France was one of the first countries that Voldemort conquered after securing his rule in England. It went on to become a highly contested territory, with the front lines of the war against the Death Eaters being fought in the major coastal cities.

Near the end of the conflict, the Resistance had established their Forward Operating Base in Paris, a strategic position they used to attack and defend against Voldemort's forces, and later, the demons. Magical France would play a significant role in the war and having Antoine Delacour, the future Minister, on his side would help them immensely.

The reason why they hadn't intervened when Voldemort was winning was due to the toxic influence of the French Pureblood supremacists. They had been approached by the Death Eaters early in the war. Before Voldemort had been exposed at the Ministry during his fifth year.

With some honeyed words and bribes in the right pockets, the French magical government had been locked in a stalemate on whether they would intervene and assist the Resistance in England. By the time they realized how badly things would end for them if Voldemort won, it had been too late.

Voldemort had exposed the magical world, and things got even more complicated when the non-magicals started butting into the French Ministry's business. Constant jurisdictional pissing contests became the norm, and any chance the Resistance had of receiving reinforcements from their neighbors died completely. When the politicians both magical and non-magical got their heads out of their asses, Voldemort's army was already knocking on their door.

What followed had been one of the worst massacres in both French magical and non-magical history. The city of Paris ran red with the blood of thousands of innocents. Years later, many compared the day Voldemort's forces attacked France to the zenith of the French Revolution. Chaos reigned in the streets with groups of Death Eaters conducting multiple simultaneous terrorist attacks against innocents and key magical infrastructure.

People were captured, tortured, and killed by lynch mobs of Death Eaters and Dark creatures. Fear had the populace sheltering in their homes, praying to whatever deity they could for their families to remain safe. Most of the magical population decided to flee France, seeing no help coming from the deadlocked Ministry.

Antoine Delacour had personally taken command of the Aurors and gone out to help defend his people. He fought for several days, dying a noble death when he sacrificed himself to protect a group of children held hostage. His demise at their hands had galvanized the remaining Aurors to fight with everything they had. After two weeks of relentless conflict, both sides retreated to lick their wounds before the next battle.

That attack had served as a wake-up call to the entire world. The cruelty the Death Eaters had shown to the women and children had people's blood boiling. The non-magical governments approached their magical counterparts, and for the first time, politics was put on the back burner.

The thousands of innocent French people who had suffered under the hands of Voldemort's followers became a rallying cry that saw magicals and non-magical around the world unite to start engaging the threat presented by the Dark Lord Voldemort. That initial interaction had blossomed into the organization that would go on to become the IDSC.

Archer smiled as he reminisced.

Sometimes it was only when things were at their bleakest, that humans would show their true capacity for cooperation. While some IDSC meetings had devolved into political games and occasional backstabbing, all it took was a stern reminder from him to get things back on track.

He had been respected and idolized by billions, seeing as he was the figurehead of the entire Resistance. The politicians understood this fact and sought to cooperate with him as much as possible. Oh, they all played their little games behind his back, but when major decisions had to be made, they collectively turned to him for leadership and guidance.

He had gained a decent appreciation for the art of politics and using political capital to get things done. One of the key abilities of any good politician was to be able to predict their opponents actions and appropriately plan to counter them. While he had never delved too deep into the field, he had learned a few key lessons during his time in the arena.

One of them being, never turn down the opportunity to network with the movers and shakers. They are the people who you need to convince if you want something done. This was one of the less obvious reasons he held the Transfiguration study sessions.

There were several Heirs and Heiresses to powerful and influential French Pureblood families in his year. Almost all the families held a certain amount of sway in the government. Being in their good books would smooth the wheels for his plans to come to fruition. If he needed help against Voldemort, it would be much harder to simply bribe officials into a deadlock, especially if he personally called for their support.

Antoine Delacour would be a powerful ally, and with his sense of honor, one who would come to England's aid if requested. He was a man who fiercely loved his family and worked hard to defend all French magicals during his time in the Auror Corps. It was one of the main reasons most of the Pureblood families had voted him in as Minister, despite his wife being what they would call, a half-breed.

His star was quickly rising even now, as he had been named as a possible candidate for Head Auror. Archer had surprisingly learned of this from Florian, who had loudly groaned about his father's ranting against the man for tainting a noble Pureblood family's lineage with creature blood.

With all this in mind, he knew that his first impression had to be both excellent and memorable. Mustering all the grace he could, he walked over while mentally reciting the etiquette guidelines Professor Mercier had drilled into his head. He approached Antoine and gave a slight bow before looking him in the eye and introducing himself.

'When greeting a family, always address the patriarch first. If he isn't present, greet the person with the next highest standing in the family. In order, Ladies, Heirs, Heiresses. If none of them are present, you are free to greet any member of the family.'

"Good evening, Lord Delacour. Welcome to Chateau Beaufort. Thank you very much for finding the time to attend my birthday party. I understand that you are very busy man, as a Senior Auror with the Bureau de la Justice Magique."

Antoine looked surprised at his formal greeting if the raised eyebrow was anything to go by. An amused smile formed on his face. "Well met, Mr. Beaufort. It is no problem, seeing as you are a close friend of my eldest daughter. She was quite keen on attending, if the hours of dress shopping were anything to go by."

He stuck his hand forward. "Where are my manners? Lord Antoine Delacour of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Delacour. You may call me Mr. Delacour, as there is no need to observe the formalities for this occasion."

Archer gripped his hand firmly, but not overly so as he mentally went through the handshake etiquette checklist. 'The wizard with the superior social position always offers their hand first. If they are equals, either can offer their hand. One shake is reserved only for pure business or for courtesy's sake. Three shakes indicate honesty and friendliness without seeming overeager.'

He shook Antoine's hand three times before letting go.

Fleur piped in indignantly. "Papa! Don't embarrass me in front of Archer!"

Antoine let out a hearty chuckle at his daughter's expense. "Of course, mon cheri. My apologies."

He turned and grasped his wife's hand and pulled her forward slightly. "Let me introduce you to the rest of my lovely family. This is my wife, Apolline."

Archer saw Apolline giving him a once over before retrieving her hand from her husband and holding it out towards him. He lightly grasped her hand and bent down, giving a slight kiss to the air above her knuckles.

It was considered impolite for the lips to make contact on the hand of a married lady. Thus, it wasn't really expected for married women to offer their hands in an informal setting like this. However, not accepting the gesture when a lady offered her hand was considered the height of rudeness and could be interpreted as an insult to the house she represented.

Looking back up, he gave her a formal greeting as well. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Delacour. Fleur has told me so much about you."

Apolline flashed a genial smile. "Good things, I hope?"

He laughed lightly. "Of course. After all, becoming an accomplished Enchantress such as yourself is not a simple feat. I have seen some of your original creations in a few stores in Place Cachee, and I was highly impressed by their quality and utility.

In fact, I have an abiding interest in Runes, and was looking into the fields it could be applied to. Warding, Cursebreaking, and Enchanting seem to be the three main fields of specialty. So, you can see how excited I am to be in the presence of France's premier Enchantresses."

He felt a wave of magic wash over him as he finished his greeting. It made his mind slightly sluggish and he felt a desire to impress the woman in front of him.

Apolline's spoke, her voice having a slightly sultry and hypnotic effect. "How did you come to be friends with Fleur, Mr. Beaufort?"

Hearing that voice made him want to shout out his reasons, but he held his impulse in check. Within seconds, his Occlumency barriers snapped into place, jolting his mind back to awareness. His magic flared in anger as he realized what just occurred.

His smile tightened as his eyes narrowed. "Please restrain your allure, Lady Delacour. I do not appreciate this impromptu test of my character."

He had never formally met Apolline Delacour before. She had perished while attempting to evacuate with Gabrielle from the Delacour estate. The Death Eaters had targeted the Minister's home and they had been caught in the crossfire. Suffice to say, their deaths hadn't been pretty, and Fleur had taken out her rage against the Death Eaters they fought in England for months after their passing.

Apolline's eyes widened minutely, a couple of seconds later, the feeling in his mind retreated quickly. She immediately started apologizing.

"I'm sorry for the test, Mr. Beaufort. It is just that I am aware of the struggles my daughter was going through before she met you. Due to my husband's job, her heritage is known to almost everyone in the Ministry and Beauxbatons.

With the way Veela are viewed by the magical world at large, I needed to make sure that you were genuinely friends with her and did not have any malicious intent. When it comes to my children, I can never be too safe. I hope you understand why I had to make sure."

Archer took a quiet breath before relaxing his magic but made sure his Occlumency barriers stayed in place. "I understand your reasoning, Lady Delacour. However, I disagree with the method you chose to ascertain the truth."

He was about to continue when he heard a slightly squeaky voice interject. "You were able to resist Maman's allure!"

Looking down, he saw a tiny blonde-haired girl that looked like a miniature version of Fleur looking up at him in awe. He gave a chuckle to dispel any tension before addressing her. "It looks like I did, little Ms. Delacour."

Hearing his address, she pouted adorably. "I am not little! My name is Gabrielle Delacour."

Taking a knee, he came down to her height. "Ah. My apologies, Ms. Gabrielle Delacour. How could anyone as beautiful as you be called little?" He playfully replied.

Gabrielle giggled as she hid behind Apolline. She seemed to be much shyer than he remembered. Then again, he had met her for a grand total of 20 minutes after rescuing her from the bottom of the Black Lake, almost 3 years from now. Merlin, that was confusing to think about.

Getting up, he looked to Fleur and smiled brightly. "I'm so glad you were able to make it Fleur. Thank you very much for coming." He gave her a brief hug.

Fleur grinned. "What kind of friend would I be if I missed your birthday? Also, you know I would never say no to cake!"

Archer laughed. This was something that had come out of the blue. Apparently, Fleur's love for cake, specifically chocolate cake, rivalled Dumbledore's addiction to sweets. Beauxbatons always had some form of cake, and inevitably, Fleur would devour a large quantity with a ferocity that contradicted her petite frame.

"Well, I know for a fact that my parents ordered a chocolate cake for the party from some fancy patisserie in Paris, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

She looked at him curiously. "How would you know that?"

He gave her a sly smile.

Her eyes widened. "You knew?!" she asked in a heated whisper.

He put a finger on his lips. "Shh! Of course, I knew. I would have to be blind to not notice."

He stopped talking and looked at his parents, who were in an animated conversation with the Rossi family. "They put in so much effort for me. I couldn't help but want to make their wishes come true. Truthfully, I didn't have many friends growing up.

Now that I'm attending Beauxbatons, I finally gained something they saw was missing in my life. This party is a culmination of all the parties that couldn't be hosted over the last few years."

He smiled as he heard them laugh at something Antonio was talking about. "I'm so blessed to be their son. It was the least I could do for all the love and care they have shown me."

Turning back to the Delacour's, he saw Antoine and Apolline smiling at him. Antoine spoke up. "You are a good son to your parents, Mr. Beaufort. I think they would be proud to know that you have become such a fine young man."

"Thank you, Mr. Delacour. It was a pleasure to meet your family. I must go greet the others. Please make yourself at home and enjoy the refreshments and appetizers. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

They nodded and he nodded politely before walking away. Making his way to where his parents were, he walked in on the story of how he started his lectures on Transfiguration for the students in their year.

Tony's parents were mightily impressed, but he immediately waved it off with humility. To change the topic, he started the hilarious story of the time Antonio accidentally transfigured a beetle to a button with legs. One that found its way down his shirt.

They entire group laughed along as he regaled them with Tony's antics and how Laura had found him wriggling on the ground in the middle of class. The evening continued much in the same way, as he introduced himself to his friend's families and shared stories of Beauxbatons with them.

The food was delicious, with several guests praising his parents for their choice of menu. The cake had been the highlight of the evening. His parents had gone all out and ordered a custom chocolate cake from Stohrer, the oldest patisserie in Paris.

Fleur had been overjoyed at eating such a decadent chocolate cake. It had been a big hit with the rest of the guests too, as they all enjoyed the rich texture and the subtle flavors within.

All in all, he had a lot of fun with his friends and for the first time, found himself looking forward to his next birthday. Except now, instead of thinking about duelling and inheritance tests, he thought about inviting his friends over for another party.

As the last of the guests left, he had hugged his parents tightly. "Thank you so much, Maman. Papa. I'm so happy with how it turned out."

His mother reciprocated the hug while his father chuckled.

Sofia cupped his face and looked into his eyes. "Anything for you, my darling. Your father and I were so happy that we could finally throw a party and invite your friends over. We should do this again next year. Maybe we could invite some more of your friends?"

Archer beamed. "That would be great, Maman. I'll definitely make more friends so we can make that happen." He felt a hand ruffling his hair as he looked at his father.

Jean winked at him as he spoke. "Thank you for going along with the surprise, son. It meant a lot to us."

Archer blinked. "You knew I wasn't surprised? How?"

Sofia giggled. "You are not as good an actor as you think, mon ange. We watched you grow up since the day we took you home. You may have fooled the guests, but you can't fool us. My little genius would obviously notice our preparations even if we tried to hide it."

She pouted as she teased him. You're just too smart, my darling son."

Archer playfully scowled. "Maman, I'm 12. I'm no longer little."

She laughed as she pulled him into a hug and cuddled him like a stuffed toy. "You'll always be my little boy, Archer. Even when you are a grown man with children of your own."

He sighed as he let her continue her ministrations. He glared at his father, who was trying to hold in his laughter as he watched. Seeing as there was no way out of the situation, he gave up his half-hearted struggle and let his mother continue pinching his cheeks.

He went to bed satisfied and hopeful. Today had been a great day, and some of the anxiety that he had carried over from his past life had decreased. Maybe his future birthdays would be like this. Filled with friends and family who all cared for him. It didn't sound too bad, now that he got his first taste of what it was like.

Waking up the next day, he restarted the routine he had established over Winter holidays. He had gotten quite far into the memories of his previous life, already experiencing the Westminster Massacre and the initial meeting of the two worlds.

After Voldemort's publicity stunt had gotten worldwide news coverage, the entire non-magical world lost their collective minds. Many were fearful of the existence of entire communities of people that had supernatural powers living among them. The Catholics had very strong opinions against the magical community, citing the phrase "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

Governments all around the world had trouble calming down their citizens as they desperately tried to communicate with their magical counterparts. Riots erupted and witch hunts would have started anew, had the Pope himself not called for peace.

In a surprise move, the Holy See released every record they had of the Magical world and its various communities around the globe. Pope John Paul II gave a televised press conference that informed the world of the sordid history behind Pope Innocent VII.

Pope Innocent had been the first to actively condemn witchcraft and send Inquisitors into Germany to hunt and execute witches. Shockingly, the Pope revealed the status of Innocent as a squib who had been abandoned by his magical family. The rage and jealousy of not having the gift of magic gave way to the violence that caused the Magical world to go into hiding.

He stated that the Church had since apologized to their magical brethren and had cooperated with them on numerous occasions. The Inquisition turned out to be a group of magicals under the Church who protected the non-magical population from magical threats. They also helped hide non-magical born witches and wizards along with their families to prevent persecution and protect them.

The revelations had shocked the entire world. The ICW then issued a formal statement corroborating what the Pope had said and encouraged magicals to stay calm and not be quick to violence. They tried to encourage peace and understanding between them and the Non-magicals, and many had listened to them.

However, some of the people in England had seen the destruction Voldemort had caused and took measures into their own hands. This led to several families with young non-magical born children being discovered and lynched in the street out of revenge.

Sickened by their actions, the Death Eaters had retaliated. It had devolved into a gigantic clusterfuck of escalating violence that didn't end until the British Army was deployed to keep the peace. MI5 and MI6 scrambled to figure out what the hell was going on and they were eventually able to locate the magical resistance.

He smiled at the thought. Non-magicals had proven to be rather open-minded when it came to dealing with the new world that had been introduced to them in the worst way possible. Their pragmatism and willingness to put personal feelings aside and cooperate had been a godsend to the splintered British magical community.

His forces hadn't been the only resistance group around. Several others had popped up all over the UK. The only problem was their unwillingness to follow him or make a compromise. They saw him as an incompetent child who knew nothing of war and violence.

The Daily Prophet had brainwashed them into thinking he was simply coasting off his name all his life. They sadly hadn't figured out their mistakes before Voldemort and his Death Eaters wiped them all out.

He had been rather ambivalent, seeing as unlike his group, none of them had made any real difference. The only thing he had lost in their deaths were spare wands.

It was a horrible way to think about other people, but the times had been so chaotic, and death had been felt everywhere. It became normalized to the point that he could look at severe casualty statistics and not feel any sadness at the loss of life.

Finishing up his daily run, he tried to catch his breath as he stretched. After a quick shower and breakfast, he would start progressing through his control drills once again. They had been helping him immensely in gaining control over his burgeoning channeling capacity.

Laura's words of him being abnormally powerful rang in his ears as he witnessed his power rising steadily as he pushed himself in the exercises. He had a sense of excitement and trepidation when it came to his power. With the rituals he planned on undergoing before his 14th birthday, he would undoubtedly be the most powerful of his generation.

Was that enough though? His experience in the magical world was rather shallow, limited mainly to whatever books he had. He had never visited any international magical locations. Who knew if there existed some supremely powerful witches and wizards who could easily match him?

Hell, he didn't even know how strong Dumbledore was in relation to him. Not that he could find out anytime soon, seeing as the man had lived for 110 years. A man of his renown was likely to have gone through a couple of rituals in his time. Probably before they were deemed "Dark" by the Ministry or the ICW.

That brought him up short. He still had no idea about Dark magic in this reality. All his searches for information had yielded only the most basic information that it was outlawed and significantly damaging to all magicals.

He would have to be careful, because asking about it might set off alarms. Perhaps a visit to Allee d'Ombre, the French equivalent of Knockturn Alley, would get him some books that would provide a better perspective on the downsides of the Dark Arts. He hoped that it wouldn't affect him too much, as the Dark Arts were some of the most effective spells he knew when it came to battle.

However, that couldn't happen until after his 13th birthday. Rushing in without a plan and possibly damaging his potential was not something he wanted to do. He would have to take a page from Tom's book and charm his teachers by demonstrating intense, but purely academic curiosity. Laura would probably be the most receptive to this, but he needed to interact more with her before asking.

The rest of the summer flew by as he worked hard in his studies and kept up with his martial arts and fencing practice. Desjardin had pointed him towards several books, which he had owl ordered from Magillard's. Nearly all of them mentioned the importance of dodging with many emphasizing footwork.

It went directly against what Morgana had drilled into him, but there was a clear difference in the purpose behind the instruction. Morgana had been preparing him for a war. War was chaos, and as the saying went, no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Even the small skirmishes in the beginning stages had been disorganized at best. Even if they had tactics and formations they used, spellfire would barrel towards them from all directions. There were no such things as one-on-one duels in a battle. Thus, learning to shield against spells with the smallest amount of magic necessary was an essential skill to have.

When it came to duelling, he knew that it was highly regulated. Meaning two duellists would face each other on a rectangular platform with a runic shield encompassing the stage. Dodging was encouraged to save energy and batting away spells was considered the most useful skill in a duellist's arsenal.

He knew the spell behind spell catching and diverting spells. The Averto spell formed a highly concentrated multi-layered shield on the tip of the wand. In conjunction with good hand eye coordination, it could easily handle most spells that a standard Death Eater would know other than the Unforgivables. There were certain highly Dark spells that could not be caught, but those were usually only known by and kept within the Inner Circle.

The books had mentioned that there were several acknowledged styles all around the world. Usually, the style a duellist preferred had a lot to do with the region or country they grew up in. Though in their introductions, they all encouraged finding the style that was the best fit, and not limiting oneself to any single style.

For France, the Fencer's style was the choice for most up and coming duellists. The reason being, most French professional duellists swore by the style and it's practicality, and the use of fencing as a training tool made this the easiest style to transition into.

He also got a look at some of the other acclaimed styles around the world. Britain's was known as the Knight Style. Focused on solid defence with heavy attacks and barrages to disrupt their opponent's tempo. It was an effective style for duelling, but not without its drawbacks.

Namely, if the opponent had higher endurance, constantly dodging and shielding would tire a duellist out quickly. Unless of course, they were like him and had a much higher than average channeling capacity.

After the rituals, he doubted that anybody his age would get close, unless they too went through similar enhancement rituals. Though, he was convinced none would be as potent as his unless they were Dark rituals. Then it became a tossup between who had more skill. He honestly wasn't worried if it came to that.

He was interested in some of the Eastern styles though. The Japanese had their Interceptor style, favoring to mirror their opponents moves while throwing in numerous feints and distractions to catch them off guard. It was a style that would work well with his Battle Transfiguration.

The Chinese duelling styles took a lot of inspiration from their myriad traditional martial art forms. Animal based styles were by far the most popular, with the Tiger, Dragon, Snake, and Jaguar styles dominating on the professional circuit. Each had their positives and drawbacks, and he could see himself maybe incorporating a bit of each into his own personal style.

Then came the highly personalized styles used by the greatest duellists in the last fifty years. Two individuals were featured in every book he had. Gellert Grindelwald and Filius Flitwick. Acknowledged as some of the best duellists of their respective generations, the books did their best to break down their styles in pain-staking detail.

Flitwick's personal style focused heavily on acrobatic dodging while simultaneously speed casting. His favorite tactic was to unsettle his opponents footing and use a clever combination of charms to break shields in a way that allowed a lot of versatility in his offense.

Charms like Glisseo, that made a surface slippery. The combination of Aguamenti and Glacius could form jagged, icy terrain below his opponent's feet and doubled as a quick and dirty shield breaker. The man could use the same charms that he taught his Hogwarts students to put down some of the most formidable duellists in the world.

One of the books showed a photo of Flitwick casting an overpowered Aguamenti at his opponent's shield, only to freeze it barely 2 seconds later with a Glacius while swiftly following it up with a Bombarda, detonating the newly formed ice. A quick Geminio doubling the amount of shrapnel from the explosion and an overpowered Depulso sending it all towards his opponent, who didn't manage to switch to a physical shield in time.

The style was simple, yet effective, with many unable to even hit the man due to him constantly bouncing around the arena. When interviewed, Flitwick said his style incorporated the essence of the Monkey style, while also adapting it to his short but stocky stature.

Grindelwald's style was much harder to pin down compared to Flitwick's. Many books had differing opinions as to what the Dark Lord's true personal style was. However, every single book had one thing in common, they praised his tactical acumen and adaptability. He never truly stuck to one style, constantly changing, sometimes even mid-duel to counter his opponent.

The man's intelligence allowed him to test his opponents and learn their style quickly. Within seconds, slow shifts would start happening. Instead of going for a traditional tactic, Grindelwald would attempt something unorthodox, simply to see how his opponent reacted. After observing a couple of times, he would dissect, pinpoint, and precisely attack the weaknesses of his opponent's style.

It was one of the main reasons the man was so feared in both the duelling ring and the battlefield. Combined with his immense magical strength and knowledge of the Dark Arts, fighting him was an absolute nightmare for most people.

It suddenly made sense to him why Dumbledore was so revered for defeating the man even 50 years after the fact. The terror Grindelwald inspired with his prowess had a lasting effect on the entire European continent.

Archer was curious though. Surely Gellert had a personal style? The man was too experienced of a duellist to not have some tried and tested methods to overwhelm his opponents. Leaving that aside, if there was one thing he wanted to incorporate, it was the ability to adapt to his opponent's style.

It would be extremely useful both in a duel and a battle as the man had proven. He already had some experience in reacting to a changing battlefield and calling out formation shifts mid-fight. This would probably be much easier than changing tactics while facing off against hordes of demons.

September 1st arrived a lot quicker than he expected. He woke up early and went through his daily routine. The only difference being he skipped his Occlumency practice to pack his trunk instead. The portkey had arrived via owl a week ago, so he made sure to owl order his schoolbooks and supplies early.

He didn't bother with buying the second-year Transfiguration textbook, as Laura wasn't going to make him work out of it. He was excited to get back to learning, as they had just touched upon lower N.E.W.T. level theory when the year ended.

His swift learning speed had impressed her enough that they directly skipped over third, fourth, and fifth year theory. If only his practical skills would catch up.

Archer took a deep breath. 'It's okay. Focus on the positives. Renaud offered me some of his time. I could ask him why self-identity is so strongly related to Transfiguration.'

That was something that had been bothering Archer for a while. Laura had mentioned that a strong sense of self was crucial to Transfiguration, but not really gone into detail. Surely it was more than just the volatility of wild magic affecting the mind. There had to be some deeper reason.

His send off this year was much less emotional, as his mother didn't succumb to her usual waterworks. The same promises of frequent photos and weekly letters were traded before he activated the portkey and was whisked away to start his second year at Beauxbatons.

This time, he landed in a separate area from the building he had first arrived in. This turned out to be the normal student portkey arrival and departure lounge. The incoming first years had a specially designated building outside the chateau to make it easy for the teachers to take them on a tour of the campus.

Making his way to the dormitories, he saw a sign detailing the new accommodations for returning students. Second years would stay on the second floor, so he made his way up the stairs to the second year Common Room.

Upon entering, he was greeted by several people who were lounging around in groups. They informed him that their roommates were the same as last year, and the doors worked the same way. Thanking them, he made his way down the corridor, searching for the plaque with his name on it.

He found it within half a minute and tapped his wand on his nameplate. The door opened with a click and he stepped inside, only to be pounced on by an excited Tony.

"Archer! How are you doing man? Haven't seen you since your birthday party!"

Archer grinned as he dropped his suitcase and returned Tony's enthusiastic hug. "I'm doing great, Tony! Excited to start the year. How about yourself?"

Tony pumped his fist in the air. "I'm also doing great! Can you believe we're already starting our second year?! It feels like yesterday that we met for the first time."

Archer smiled. He honestly couldn't believe it either. Even with the constant reminders about his limitations in Transfiguration and his excitement about duelling, he still lost track sometimes.

'Guess time really does fly by when you're having fun.'

"Archer, you ok?"

Tony's question jolted him back to reality.

"I'm fine, Tony. Can't wait to start classes and get back to learning with Laura."

Antonio slyly smirked. "Ahh. Missing Professor Thebault's company, are you? Is our dear Archer in loo-"

Archer deadpanned. "Complete that sentence and you're on your own in Transfiguration for the rest of the semester."

"Ahh, I'm joking. It was just a joke! You wouldn't abandon your best friend Tony, would you?!"

Archer smirked victoriously. "Keep making comments like that and you'll find out."

"Uncle, Uncle! I need your help, Archer. I don't think I would do half as well in that class without your help. Those lectures you gave last year were the best! They helped me so much. Have you ever thought about teaching as a career?"

Archer paused. 'Huh. I am a damn good teacher, aren't I? Maybe after I kill the Dark Wanker, I can try it out. Merlin knows I wouldn't want to become an Auror or work for any Ministry.'

"I don't know Tony. There are so many things I want to do. I'll keep it in mind though."

A hand squeezed his shoulder. "You have a gift Archer, but If you don't want to do something, then don't. My family has a saying: Become whatever you want to be, but never settle for second best."

Archer nodded. "That's a wise and ambitious saying. All I know right now, is that I want to become a Transfiguration Master. I guess now I'll simply have to aim to be greater than Albus Dumbledore himself."

Tony grinned. "That's some goal. You have your work cut out for you. I know! Why don't you start your journey by personally tutoring me in Transfiguration! After all, Albus Dumbledore taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts for several years."

Archer laughed while shaking his head. No matter how serious their conversations became, Tony would always be Tony. He picked up his trunk and made his way to the corner room, ignoring Tony's loud pleading.

Opening his trunk on the bed, he waved his wand, directing all the items within to their designated space in his room. The wardrobe was quickly filled up with his uniform and casual clothes, the dresser was populated with his undergarments and other accessories.

His writing desk was filled with all the things he needed to complete his assignments. Multiple No-Refill Quills with an Ever-Neat enchantment, a heaping stack of parchment paper and several books to fill up the large bookcase situated next to the desk.

He took a quick look around, seeing if he missed anything. Satisfied he walked over to the bookshelf and was about to grab one of the newer additions to his collection when he heard laughter from outside.

Making his way out, he saw Javier and Louis sitting on the couch opposite Tony. Louis saw him first and enthusiastically waved him over.

"Archer! Come over here, man! How've you been?"

Archer smiled as he sauntered over to the group. "I've been well. How about yourself?"

"Great! By the way, I loved the birthday party. I didn't know your family owned Beaufort Metals. My parents were very surprised when we arrived at your family chateau."

Archer waved it off. "What business my family owns doesn��t matter here. After all, to magicals, the business is simply just another non-magical business. I was genuinely surprised to find that Fleur's family and a bunch of other metal enchanting companies in Europe ordered their material from us. I think a couple of students in our year are from the families that own them."

Louis was surprised. "Really? I thought magicals wouldn't really bother associating with a non-magical business."

Javier snorted. "I don't know were you got that idea from, Louis. Several older wizarding families have business ties in the non-magical world. I know my family owns a couple of textile factories that we use to mass produce enchanted fabrics on custom looms. A majority of the raw acromantula silk in Western Europe gets processed in one of the factories we own."

Their conversation went on for hours, as they caught up with each other and talked about the year ahead of them. All his roommates begged for him to continue his lectures in Transfiguration, but Louis was adamant he expands to Charms as well.

"I know you're good in Transfiguration, but you're also a genius in Charms. I saw last year's ranking Desjardin put out! You were first by a large margin!"

Archer was hesitant. "Well, I don't know. After all, I'm not really a teacher. I do the Transfiguration lectures only because Laura encouraged me to do it as a review. Charms are a whole other subject, and lecturing will take extra time out of my schedule."

Tony interrupted. "Alright, how about you lecture on Charms, but only to us. We can make it worth your while, right guys?"

Javier and Louis nodded.

Archer was still unsure. "You're my best friends. You don't have to pay me for it if it's just the three of you. We can have study sessions in the evenings every day we have Charms."

Javier piped up. "That won't work though. Last year, we were lucky to all have the same schedule. This year, that might not be the case."

Archer looked at him questioningly. ��What do you mean? How does the scheduling work?"

"Depending on the number of people in the year, they split it into 3 or 4 groups. Each group gets a different schedule. I think our year has roughly 180-ish people or so. Most likely, we were divided by 4. That means half of us could be on different schedules, or all four of us will have different schedules." Tony explained.

"That would suck. I got used to having you guys in my class. I hope we all get to stick together this year too." Louis was disheartened at the news that they might not be in class together.

Javier clapped him on the back. "Cheer up, Louis! We won't know our schedules until tomorrow. Worrying about it now won't help."

Louis still looked slightly apprehensive, but Javier's encouragement seemed to have alleviated some of his worries.

"Speaking of schedules, we need to get to the Dining Chamber. It's already 6:00." Tony pointed out, directing their attention to the clock in the living room.

Louis leaped off the couch. "I want to take a shower before we go. Let's meet back here at say, 6:30?"

They all agreed and left to go get ready. Archer decided to take a shower as well before freshening up and getting dressed. The school uniform still fit him quite well, mainly because his mother had gotten an enlarging enchantment on it to make sure it would fit for at least two years.

Taking one last look in the mirror and casting a Ironing Charm on his jacket, he stepped out of his room and into the living room of their dorm. Tony sat there reading a book on Runes, but Javier and Louis had yet to arrive.

"Hey Tony. Are you interested in Runes?"

"Yeah. My family makes money through Warding services. Let's just say Italians don't trust the goblins of Gringotts. Especially not after the way they turned against la Resistenza, the Italian Resistance, during the Global Wizarding War.

Knowing that those traitorous little bastards had a monopoly in the banking sector, people started storing their excess wealth in their homes. The goblins cannot force people to store their wealth with them, so there was nothing they could do about it.

This had the added benefit of preventing the Italian Ministry from freezing a family's assets. While sentiments have slowly changed with non-magical born people entering the community, older families still avail themselves of our services. My family went into the business of securing people's homes and wealth after the war, and we've been flourishing for almost 50 years now."

Archer was surprised. "Do all Italian magicals not trust the goblins?"

"Ninety percent don't, and for good reason. My great grandfather died during a raid by the magical wing of Mussolini's Black Shirts. The leaders in the Italian Ministry at the time, supported him during his rule and allowed him to extend his tyranny into Magical Italy. They bribed the goblins into giving them the names and information of key players in the resistance and drove several Pureblood lines to near extinction in the process."

Archer was quiet as he absorbed the information. Who knew there was such nuance between magical and non-magical history? There were so many instances of them working together, only for the non-magicals to never realize it.

Did magicals ever erase the true history of a conflict? How else had non-magical history been affected by the magical world? These questions would make for an interesting side project that could give him a lot of helpful knowledge for the future. He mentally noted down to go make a trip to the library and see what he could dig up on the topic.

It was at this moment that Javier walked out of his room. Louis came a minute after he did, and they made their way to the Dining Chamber. Upon arrival, this time, they were directed to sit at the second rightmost table. It looked like as they progressed through the years, their table would change.

Madame Maxime made her traditional opening speech, and it was word for word what they had gotten last year. Ignoring it for the most part, they waited until the food appeared and dug in.

With their bellies bulging from extra dessert, they made their way back to the dorm and flopped into their beds, excited to start classes tomorrow.

The next morning, Archer woke up early, as usual, and dressed in his workout gear before making his way towards the gymnasium. He had decided to take his saber with him, as he realized not practicing for months on end had made his skills slightly rusty. He worked hard for several years on his fencing skills, and he was not about to lose his edge due to laziness.

He found out from Desjardin that there was an animated training dummy for fencing that had different skill levels to simulate enemies. He had promised to look over and refresh the enchantments for him so he could make use of it on the first day of classes.

Alighting the platform, he saw the dummy on the opposite side and smiled. Walking over to it, he saw a piece of parchment on the back. Unfolding and reading its contents, he gave a smile as he went through the intuitive operating instructions.

Finishing his read through of the manual, he lit it on fire and burned the parchment to ashes. A quick Scourgify cleaned up the ash residue as he placed his wand on the back of the dummy's neck to activate it.

The rune cluster glowed briefly, indicating it had been activated, and he selected the first level to warm up and get a baseline. The dummy's eyes glowed as it straightened its posture. It looked to be waiting for him, so Archer walked over to the other side of the platform and drew his saber.

As if sensing his intent, a short steel sword appeared in the dummy's right hand as it fell into a basic fencing stance. Archer readied himself and stepped forward. Almost immediately, the dummy took the initiative to attack. The sword came swinging towards him from the right.

Archer quickly deflected the strike upwards and stepped in close bringing his saber slashing down towards the dummy's neck. Following through, he saw a clean cut appear on his target. Taking a few steps back, he waited for it to react.

The dummy's eyes dimmed momentarily and the sword in its hand disappeared. Within seconds, the cut started mending, and the dummy returned to its original position. As it went back to its place, its eyes dimmed, indicating that the spar was over.

'That was utterly disappointing.' Archer mused as he saw the dummy deactivate. 'Then again, it was only the lowest setting.'

Professor Desjardin had mentioned that it had 10 levels, with level 10 being modeled after a Beauxbatons alumni from 250 years previous who was considered the finest swordsmen in French magical history. To be honest, he desperately wanted to experience the skill of the man who commanded such a title, but his caution prevented him from making a foolish decision out of impulse.

'I just need to find a limit today, no need to go too hard off the bat.' Archer thought as he approached the dummy a second time. Instead of going up only a single level, maybe level 3 would be more of a challenge. Depending on how he fared, he could choose to skip the next level.

Touching his wand to the rune cluster, he selected the third level and walked back to his position. This time, the changes were clearly noticeable. The dummy's stance was steadier, with and had changed up the way it held its sword. He could feel it within his bones that it was going to be a good spar.

This time, he took the initiative and closed the distance swiftly. The dummy's reaction was much faster, having already stepped back to keep him within attacking distance but not let itself be vulnerable. Their swords clashed against each other many times as they fought.

Archer took a couple steps back and disengaged as he considered what tactic to use. Working through his initial interactions, he noticed the dummy tended to go for heavy swings after a series of light strikes to break his stance.

With a clear plan in mind, he stepped into its attacking range, baiting it successfully. It attacked quickly, sending repeated strikes to push him back. He purposely loosened his grip, pretending to have been affected more than he had. As if sensing this, the dummy struck swiftly from above, sending a heavy strike towards his head.

Archer waited until the last moment before deftly sidestepping the strike. The dummy's power caused it to overextend, something Archer used to his advantage. He sent a powerful and well-aimed thrust directly at the dummy's heart. He felt his saber sink into the soft fleshy material, his sword materializing from the back.

The dummy paused and straightened. This time, it didn't move, which probably meant that he had to retrieve his saber first before it could recover and go back. Pulling out his saber, he saw the hole he left start to mend as the dummy turned around and walked back into its default position.

'Three turned out to be fun, but harder than I expected. Hopefully, level four will be the sweet spot, but I'm out of time for today.' He sighed as he sheathed his saber. He had gotten a good workout, but if level four was his limit, he still had a long way to go.

He made his way back to his dorm and immediately went for a shower. Finishing his shower, he got dressed and waited for his roommates. It took them some time, but they eventually arrived in the living room. They made small talk about what their schedules might look like as they proceeded to the Dining Chamber.

Upon arriving, Archer started grabbing the various breakfast foods and piling them onto his plate. They excitedly talked about what they might learn in the coming year when Laura approached them.

"Good morning, gentleman. This year, I have been assigned to hand out your schedules." She tapped her wand on a piece of parchment. "Mr. Rossi and Mr. Diaz, these will be your schedules."

Antonio and Javier received their schedules anxiously. Seeing the spread of the core classes, they simultaneously winced.

"Mr. Beaufort and Mr. Dreyfus, here are yours." She handed Louis and him their schedules and he quickly scanned through it. It wasn't that bad. The only downside was the amount of homework that would be assigned on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Looking across the table, the disappointment from Tony and Javier was palpable. He would no longer be able to help them with their in-class practical assignments, meaning they would most likely be assigned extra homework consequently. Louis seemed over the moon, as they would share all their classes. This meant that he could get his help whenever he needed.

They all thanked Laura and she nodded back. Before turning away, she looked at him. "Archer. Meet me in my office hours on Wednesday and we will figure out our study schedule for the year. I'm confident we will touch upon upper N.E.W.T level theory by the end of the year."

Archer nodded. "Of course, Professor Thebault. I can't wait for our lessons to start."

She nodded back before bidding them goodbye and making her way back to the staff table.

Knowing they had different schedules, Tony and Javier were even more adamant that he coaches them in Charms, seeing as neither of them grasped the spells quickly. They saw that him and Louis had Charms before them, so they had the advantage of being able to study the material and attempt the spells ahead of time. Not being assigned extra Charms work would be a godsend to them.

The year started from there, and the same patten continued till Winter Holidays. He had gotten into a routine with the dummy, alternating his workouts to focus on a mixture of fencing, martial arts, and magical control exercises.

He improved by leaps and bounds when it came to facing the dummy. After a few months of constant practice, he had progressed to comfortably being able to handle level 5. Level 5 seemed to be his physical limit, seeing as he had yet to undergo his secondary maturity.

The one time he had tried level six, he had regretted it. The fifth level acted as a threshold in skill. Levels one through five were incremental and easy to predict. After that, the dummy's skill increased dramatically. It took less than a minute for the dummy to handily defeat him via disarming.

He mentioned his progress to Desjardin, and he had been very impressed. He had initially expressed disappointment at not being able to pass level five, but Desjardin had put things into perspective for him.

"Archer, that dummy's skills are set at a standard from a very specific time in history. A time in which knowledge of using a sword was crucial, and being a skilled swordsman was the primary way of defending oneself in the non-magical world.

As a long time has passed, that is no longer the case. The art of sword fighting has nowadays been relegated to sport and competition. The dummy's skill levels have not been adjusted to account for this lack of necessity.

That is why you should be extremely proud of being able to handle the fifth level. If anything, it shows how skilled you are in comparison to the swordsman of the time."

Archer had felt much better about it after the conversation, but still wanted to get better. The challenge that came with exceeding his natural limits was what spurred him on. He had noticed a definite improvement in his reflexes after months of training with the dummy, which was invaluable in the dueling arena.

Also, any improvements he made by pushing himself physically before undergoing the rituals, would eke out even more potential gains after he conducted them. Even after doing the rituals, he would push himself to keep improving. A war required one to have outstanding physical fitness after all.

The Winter holidays arrived, and he went back home for break. The Delacour's invited his family to their New Year's Ball, and it turned out to be fun. His parents had been introduced to several magical families over the course of the evening. Many Ministry officials had been surprised to find out one of the richest non-magical families in France had a magical child.

While Jean and Sofia weren't knowledgeable enough to comment on the politics of Magical France, their natural curiosity and willingness to listen and learn endeared them to many people. A small problem arose when one of the Pureblood heads found out that they were non-magical, but that had been resolved quickly with his intervention.

It turned out that he knew a lot of the kids at the ball, and news of his Transfiguration lectures had come to the attention of the upper years. Many of them had younger siblings in his year who had attended at least one. To his surprise, one of the upper years told him that Renaud had mentioned him during one of his lessons.

They were able to quickly smooth over any problems as the Purebloods came to realize that he had a lot of potential if the great Transfiguration Master Bertrand Renaud complimented him.

The fact that he willingly taught quite a few of their children ingratiated him to them even more. Overall, his family's first event in the magical world had been a resounding success, with several promises of future invitations.

It had been gratifying to see the results of his efforts. Even the snootiest Pureblood Lords would hold their prejudices in check, not wanting to offend a promising young man like him. He had also used the opportunity to network within the French Ministry and gotten the chance to interact with the French Minister for Magic himself.

Having his achievements and potential recognized by the Minister in front of several noteworthy Lords and Department heads had been the highlight of his night. He could feel that he had made a good impression on the people in power.

Now came the hard part, which was maintaining those connections and laying the groundwork to make France take the initiative to fight against Voldemort upon his return.

He was under no delusions that he could effectively stop Voldemort from being resurrected. He would do his best to fight against it, no doubt, but he knew in his gut that there were external forces at work here.

Small clues, like his date of birth, his background as a magical orphan. The power he held not only due to his prior knowledge, but the outstanding potential his body had come equipped with. The way his magic worked fundamentally in a different way from the norm of this reality.

All of these pointed to some supernatural force, be it Fate or whoever, was pulling the strings behind the curtain. He had met Fate in his past life, and their meeting hadn't been a good one. She had all but demanded he fight to the death, knowing he would cross over to this new reality.

She had given him her blessing, whatever that meant. He didn't understand how exactly it worked, but something about it felt familiar. He had managed to relive all his previous memories and noticed something odd.

While he initially ascribed his survival against seemingly insurmountable odds as the result of Dumbledore's machinations, it wasn't until he viewed his life from an outsider's perspective that something became clear to him. Even with Dumbledore subtly manipulating the outcome of certain events, it was impossible to account for everything that happened.

The best example he could think of was his battle in the Chamber of Secrets. He had no doubt that Fawkes had flashed in with the Sorting Hat on Dumbledore's orders. After all, if Fawkes could flash into the chamber, there was no reason Dumbledore couldn't accompany him. That would mean he had known exactly where it was but hadn't deigned to do anything about the basilisk inside it.

His fight against the basilisk was predicted, but there was nothing Dumbledore could do after he was poisoned by the basilisk venom. Basilisk venom had no known anti-venom. Phoenix tears, while a potent healing agent and a key ingredient in expensive and exotic healing potions, was not a substitute for an anti-venom. Especially not for a basilisk as old as Salazar Slytherin's.

There was technically no possible way for him to survive that ordeal, but he had. The phoenix tears had fought with the basilisk venom in his body, and by some miracle, they stayed in his blood. In a state of perpetual conflict, they protected him from other poisons and increasing his rate of recovery.

Not to mention, the venom and tears fortified his magic in a completely unique way that hadn't been observed ever before. It had been very enlightening to find out after getting his first medical checkup after volunteering for the Slayer squadrons.

So, from that moment on, he started looking deeper, and he found several instances where death was a foregone conclusion, only for him to survive against all odds. His meeting with Fate and her explanation had shed some light on his situation.

He was the Chosen One of a True Prophecy. That meant that he would fulfill the contents of the prophecy, regardless of what anyone tried. Of course, he could have still died if he committed suicide or been reckless and irresponsible with his life.

The reason he had survived was because he was acting on the prophecy and didn't want to die. He fought tooth and nail to survive, which allowed Fate to slightly alter his luck in certain situations, ensuring his continued survival.

It was a trip to find out that if not for her repeated interventions, he would never have survived past his second year. Then again, he ultimately had fought Voldemort to the death. The bastard had died first from a Killing Curse, which fulfilled the whole "neither can live while the other survives" part of the prophecy.

Shortly after, he had died(?). He honestly wasn't sure if his current circumstances counted as dying, seeing as he was alive, albeit in another world. She had predicted this but hadn't elaborated as to how he inadvertently activated the ritual and arrived in this world.

Hopefully, the Inheritance Ritual he would take at Gringotts would shed some light on his circumstances. With his skills in magic, he had no doubt his background would be extraordinary. He loved Jean and Sofia, and would forever consider them his parents, but he had to know who his birth parents were, if only to regain his Transfiguration skills.

The second semester began, and he restarted his lectures in Transfiguration. This time, the attendance was much more than he anticipated. Apparently, Renaud had told his O.W.L. students to attend if they wanted to brush up on second year concepts for their exams.

Laura had attended as usual, sitting in a corner with quill and parchment in hand, noting down her observations and critiques. The first session went very well, and he was approached by the upper years afterward. They all thanked him for the review and introduced themselves formally.

He graciously accepted their compliments and made their acquaintance. He was slowly ingratiating himself with most of the school, and would no doubt be very popular once he was an upper year himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Renaud approaching him. Saying his goodbyes to the group, he turned and focused on him. A ghost of a smile flitted across Renaud's face before vanishing just as quickly as it came.

"Yet another excellent lecture Mr. Beaufort. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were a visiting lecturer from the guild."

Archer laughed lightly. "I appreciate the compliment Grandmaster Renaud. However, my current practical skills are nowhere near sufficient to justify such high praise from you."

That was one thing he had learned over Winter break. Renaud had been officially acknowledged by the guild and granted the title of Grandmaster. This was a big deal both for Renaud and Beauxbatons. He was now one of the ten people in the entire world who held the title of Transfiguration Grandmaster.

Beauxbatons effectively became the only school who had a Grandmaster that directly taught students. This would mean that many more magical families would consider Beauxbatons for their child's magical education, seeing as no other school could offer anything similar.

"So, you did hear about it. I am simply glad the guild felt that I deserved such an honor. I remember last year I extended an invitation to talk. While I am not offended, may I ask why exactly you have not taken me up on it?"

"If I remember correctly, you specified in your invitation that you were free whenever Professor Thebault was focusing on her research. I have been helping her with testing it, so she has never really been unavailable to me, so to speak."

Renaud hummed as he lightly stroked his beard. "I see. She must have been very impressed by your progress to have recruited you for testing. How is it going so far if you don't mind me asking?"

"I cannot really say, as it is Professor Thebault's personal research. I would ask you to direct your query to her if you want to find out the status of our experiments."

Renaud smiled genuinely this time. "You are quite loyal, Mr. Beaufort. It is a good quality to have, especially for a future apprentice."

Archer blinked. "Future apprentice, sir?"

"Of course. Or did you think that Laura would allow anybody to help her with her personal research? No Mr. Beaufort, she has tested you, and found you worthy of becoming an apprentice. I have no doubt that once the year ends, she will offer the position to you."

That came as a huge surprise. He was only a second year, which was fine because his current official title was that of an assistant. Masters had no limit on how many assistants they could take. It was usually seen as a steppingstone to become an apprentice, but he was too young to graduate to an apprenticeship. So, he voiced this concern.

"Sir, aren't I too young to be an apprentice? I thought only those who have completed their primary magical education were able to seek and accept apprenticeships."

Renaud waved his hand. "That is all well and good from the ICW's standpoint, but the guilds have always operated on a very different set of rules when it comes to apprenticeships. Any qualified Master or Mistress can take on an apprentice, so long as both have a clear understanding of the magical agreement they are entering, and both do so willingly. You are an extremely talented young man Mr. Beaufort, and if Laura doesn't take you on, I might just do so myself."

This was a lot for Archer to process, so he switched the subject.

"Well, I hope your assessment of Professor Thebault's intentions are correct. I would love to be her apprentice. There was one thing that I wanted to know though. When we first met, she told me that being an orphan was affecting my skills in Transfiguration, as self-identity was critical to casting any advanced spells. May I know why exactly that is the case?"

Renaud subtly tensed, and if Archer hadn't been closely scrutinizing the man, he would have missed it.

"I see. This is a conversation that would be best in my office, as the information you are asking for is… of a sensitive nature."

Archer internally scowled. 'Sensitive nature? What the hell is sensitive about knowing why one of the fundamental necessities of Transfiguration existed.'

On the surface, he maintained his calm expression and replied. "Then could we please schedule a time for this conversation. It is very important to me that I find out about why this concept is so important."

Renaud nodded. "We can talk this coming Friday, as I believe your schedule is quite lax during the afternoon and evening. I will let you know the previous day regarding the time."

Archer nodded. "Thank you very much, Grandmaster Renaud. I look forward to our meeting."

Renaud nodded once before heading towards Laura at the back of the room.

He looked forward to Friday, when he would finally learn why the hell his Transfiguration skills were so limited because of something that seemed to so unnecessary.

The day flew by as he continued his daily lectures and his research with Laura. Things were going well, and he had been notified right after his lecture that his meeting with Renaud would be right after lunch tomorrow.

He went to bed slightly anxious as tomorrow would answer one of his most burning questions that Laura had never bothered to answer. Waking up, he went through his daily routine and attended his classes as usual.

After lunch, he bid Louis goodbye before making his way to Renaud's office. Reaching his destination, he knocked three times and waited. His breathing sped up slightly. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Come in!" A deep, baritone voice called out from behind the door.

Twisting the handle, he stepped in and greeted Renaud. "Good afternoon, Grandmaster Renaud. I'm here for our meeting."

"Ah, Mr. Beaufort. Close the door behind you and have a seat." Renaud was seated in an oversized leather armchair behind a large mahogany desk. Papers were neatly stacked in different piles and he had on a pair of thin oval reading glasses as held what looked like an essay in his hand."

Following his directions, Archer came and took a seat on the comfortable chair in front of the desk. He waited patiently as Renaud scratched a couple of comments onto the essay in red ink before replacing it in the pile.

Taking off his glasses, he addressed him. "Before we begin our conversation, I would be remiss in my manners if I didn't offer you any refreshments. Would you like any?"

Archer shook his head. "No thank you, Grandmaster. I'm quite eager to begin."

"Hmm. I can see that. Very well, seeing as the pleasantries have been taken care of, let us get to the heart of the matter. I believe that you would appreciate a straight-forward answer, but as a Grandmaster of the guild, certain guidelines must be followed for me to impart the information you seek.

So, without further ado, I must ask for an Oath of Secrecy from you Mr. Beaufort. Unless you agree to keep the contents of our conversation in the strictest of confidence, I sadly cannot tell you anything. I would not ask this of you if it wasn't necessary."

Archer interest was piqued. What was so damn secretive that he required an actual Oath just to reveal why self-identity was so important? Nevertheless, he needed the answer, so he agreed.

Taking out his wand slowly, he held it straight up and spoke clearly. "I, Archer Beaufort, do hereby swear on my magic, to keep the contents of this conversation with Grandmaster Bertrand Renaud a secret until such time he releases me from my oath."

"So mote it be.��� Renaud replied.

The magic flared for a second before settling around them and Archer felt the weight of the Oath settle on his magic.

"With that out of the way, I can now begin to tell you why self-identity is so important in Transfiguration. What I am about to tell you is closely kept secret of both the older Ancient families who specialize in Transfiguration, and the Transfiguration Masters guild.

In modern times, Transfiguration is considered a field of magic unto itself. Many dedicate their lives to pushing its boundaries and discovering its limits, only to stumble upon a much larger path before them that has been walked by very few throughout history.

You see, Transfiguration is not truly an individual field of magic. It is in fact, a subfield of a much larger and obscure branch of magic called Reality Distortion magic. When it comes to magic, it is widely acknowledged that there are Dark and Light fields. Reality Distortion falls under a very select category that is considered truly neutral, Grey magic.

Along with Ritual and Arcane magic, they form the three pillars of Grey magic. Those three fields are the only ones in which the intention of the caster provides the distinction between Light and Dark. They are all powerful beyond compare.

Ritual magic is the pinnacle of all sacrificial magic, as it shows us that magic has no real limit. One can gain whatever they desire with the requisite sacrifice. Arcane magic calls upon the power of beings beyond our dimension. It is commonly used in various family and profession-based rituals.

For example, Healer Apprentices who graduate to become fully qualified Healers must all take the Hippocratic Oath. Part of the ceremony before taking the Oath involves invoking the presence of Apollo, the Greek god of Healing. There are minor differences in which deity is invoked around the world, but the concept remains the same. A deity of healing witnesses the Oaths of the new Healers and blesses them.

Of course, the deities themselves don't come to our plane, as the Veil prevents them from doing so. They send down a spark of their presence whenever they are formally invoked, and the process usually involves a sacrificial ritual. The knowledge of Invocation rituals is highly classified, and it is an automatic death penalty for anyone who leaks the knowledge of such rituals.

Although, that rule hasn't needed to be enforced for centuries because the family magics protect and prevent the dissemination of family rituals, and in the professions, less than a handful of anonymous individuals hold the knowledge."

Archer's expression went from interested to horrified in an instant. Being beyond their dimension? Deities and Gods? Did this mean that demonic summoners other than Voldemort existed in the world? How had it not all gone to hell already?

Renaud must have noticed his expression because he instantly tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, Mr. Beaufort. Our realm was sealed thousands of years ago by the sacrifice of the ancient mages. They formed a veil betwixt the dimensions that spanned across time and space, effectively sealing off our plane of reality. It was the single largest instance of Reality Distortion magic in all of history.

It protects us to this day, ensuring that the myriad terrifying and evil beings across the dimensions cannot interfere on Earth directly. They can only influence those who reside here. The primary method they do so is through the Dark Arts.

When one steeps themselves in the practice of the Dark Arts, they forever mark their soul with the taint of that cursed magic. It will always whisper to them, tempting them to use it with increasing frequency. This effect of Dark magic is known as the haze. It clouds the mind and senses, constantly attempting to trap the magical and permanently corrupt their soul.

I can tell you that while they are frowned upon, there are people that teach others to use it responsibly. Durmstrang, for instance, has an entire 4-year course on learning the Dark Arts properly and being able to fight against the haze. They also instruct their students on how to identify the signs of a Dark witch or wizard.

Honestly speaking, I have also used the Dark Arts in the past. You will find that many who participated in the Wizarding World War against the Dark Lord Grindelwald had to resort to the Dark Arts to fight against him and his acolytes. Those were dark times that called for the use of even darker magic."

Archer was silent as he let Renaud lapse into silent contemplation. Due to how long-lived members of the magical community were, they still felt the effects of the war against Grindelwald. Even in his old reality, many veterans of the war had been badly affected by their actions and hadn't been able to cope. PTSD wasn't exclusive to non-magicals.

Renaud cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Mr. Beaufort. That is not the conversation we were supposed to be having. So, I will endeavor to get back to the main point."

Archer politely interrupted. "There is no need to apologize, Grandmaster."

Renaud waved away his comment. "Let us focus on answering your question. The reason a clear sense of self is so important in Transfiguration, is because every time you cast a spell, you are channeling the raw magic in your surroundings.

Any form of Reality-Distortion takes a toll on the mind. The more precision that is required, the harder it will be for you to keep your intent and will strong against the backlash of reality. We may just be scratching the surface of its capabilities, but one thing is clear to all who study the intricacies of magic. Magic is sentient.

The raw magic in our surroundings connects us in ways that we can scarcely comprehend. I'm sure that the specific problem you must be having is with inanimate to animate, as well as animate to animate Transfiguration, correct?"

Archer nodded. "That is correct, Grandmaster."

Renaud hummed. "I thought so. One of the principle aspects of magic that everyone must understand, is that all magic is sacrificial magic. With every spell you cast, you are paying a requisite price, be it time, energy, willpower, focus or for the Dark Arts, blood, life, limb, or your very soul. Keeping this in mind, let me put the true nature of Transfiguration in perspective.

Whenever you cast a Transfiguration-based spell, you are utilizing a primal energy of our universe to fundamentally change the basic nature of an object. In the case of inanimate to animate, you are attempting to create an artificial life form with sentience from something insentient. To do this, you combine the power of magic with your intent to imbue lifelike aspects onto something.

Reality, or the laws of our universe, will relentlessly fight against your transformation. It does this because it goes against the natural order. In essence, you are using the power of magic to fight against the laws of reality every time you transfigure anything. It is why your self-identity and will must be stalwart against this bombardment, because if you are overwhelmed, the resulting backlash will snuff out your very existence.

Therefore, Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous magic you will learn during your education. It is also why anyone who wants to teach Transfiguration at a magical school must be a certified Master of the guild.

The other subjects, while all equally important, do not have such stringent requirements. While we at Beauxbatons only accept the very best, other smaller schools cannot afford such a luxury."

Archer was quiet as he reflected on what Renaud said. His perspective of the world had been turned on its head with talk of otherworldly beings and deities. It was a bit much to take at face value. He decided at that moment to ignore anything to do with the Arcane for now and focus solely on Transfiguration.

"That was a very enlightening answer, Grandmaster Renaud. I must ask though, have there been any cases where a person has suffered the backlash while attempting Transfiguration?"

Renaud smiled grimly. "Of course, Mr. Beaufort. Otherwise, we would not have been able to study and realize the consequences of attempting to manipulate reality. Ever since that study, very few have ever desired to dabble in the higher levels of Transfiguration, which is why there are so few Masters of the arte around the world.

The story goes, that a Grandmaster back in the late 1700's realized he was dying. His condition is treatable in modern times, but back then, the cure had yet to be invented. He decided that he would go off with a bang, so to speak.

He told his colleagues about what he was going to do, and they all tried to stop him. Nevertheless, he was adamant to go through with his plan. In his famous words, "no matter if I succeed or fail, we will learn more about Reality-Distortion. We will touch upon the divine".

He attempted something never heard of before. He tried to create a new magical creature, purely through Transfiguration. It was an insane idea, and not something anyone had ever dared to attempt.

The fateful event took place in what is now called Stonehenge. The Grandmaster's idea was to channel the inherent power of the ley lines beneath the structure to power his experiment. The day came when he started his experiment. Initially, things were going fine, as he slowly started forming the features of the animal he was trying to create.

He was nearly finished when everything went horribly wrong. The laws of the universe crashed down upon him in wrathful fury, threatening to destroy him. He fought valiantly; channeling far more magic than was ever thought possible for a human being.

Alas, it wasn't anywhere near enough. A bright flash of light surrounded him and then, nothing. The animal he was trying to create turned back into a rock and the Grandmaster fell forward, unconscious.

They healed him to the best of their abilities, only to realize that he was not there anymore. His body showed all the signs of living. Heartbeat, breath, blood pulsing through the arteries. However, he wasn't alive, not anymore. His very soul, along with his connection to magic was destroyed.

In the end, he was left nothing but a mere shell. A few Legilimens attempted to check if his mind could be salvaged, only to find a pure white space with no sign that a person had even existed within at one point.

His entire being, everything that made him who he was, disappeared in the blink of an eye. The guild would go on to refer to that incident as The Wrath of Reality. It is a cautionary tale that anyone who apprentices under a Master must learn and understand.

The members of the guild chose to take care of him until his body expired and constructed a tomb in his honor at our Headquarters. Every Transfiguration Master or Mistress along with their apprentices visit it at least twice in their careers to pay their respects to the Grandmaster for his sacrifice.

I have no doubt that once you officially become Laura's apprentice, you too will get the opportunity to visit Headquarters and see the tomb for yourself."

Renaud finished and clapped his hands, summoning an elf.

"How can I help you, Professor?"

"Some tea for me, please. My usual would be nice. Mr. Beaufort, would you like anything?" Renaud ordered before asking him.

"I'll have whatever you're having, Grandmaster." Archer politely deferred to him.

"Alright, make that two servings of my usual tea, please."

The elf nodded before disappearing with a small crack.

The conversation lapsed into silence as he took a moment to think about what all he had learned. Reality-Distortion seemed to be an exceedingly powerful field of magic that he could see himself learning. With magic that potent, Voldemort would be a piece of cake to deal with.

Not to mention, it genuinely interested him a lot next to the possibilities of Arcane magic. He was nervous, for sure, about the fact that mythical figures from the various pantheons existed. This was something he had no experience in, even from his previous reality.

At the same time, a part of him was thrilled. He had turned into a bit of an adrenaline junky from his time in the Slayer squadrons. Before he was assigned his teammates, he operated solo. He acted as a one-man reconnaissance and assault team, taking on high risk missions deep in hostile territory.

He would work hard to fix his issues with Transfiguration and then graduate to Reality-Distortion. On the way, if he could, he'd find any available material on Arcane magic. Just because the information was tightly controlled, didn't mean that it wouldn't be available on the black market. The forbidden had an allure unlike anything else, and in his experience, you could find just about anything in Knockturn Alley so long as you were willing to pay for it.

Renaud cleared his throat, making him look up from his musings. In his hand, he held a cup and saucer. "Your tea, Mr. Beaufort."

"Thank you very much, Grandmaster." Archer said before accepting the tea and taking a small sip. It was truly delicious.

���Do you like it? It was the way my master preferred his tea, and one of the many things I did for him in my earlier years. After a while, I learned to enjoy the taste, and haven't changed the preparation method since."

Archer smiled. "It is truly delicious, Grandmaster. Thank you for allowing me to try it."

"No need to thank me. I can see our conversation has taken its toll on you. I am amazed that you didn't panic as much as I expected you to. Most would when confronted with the confirmed existence of the divine."

Archer imbibed the tea once more, searching for an answer. After a hearty sip, he carefully started speaking. "It isn't something I ever expected to be true, but I am genuinely quite astonished and if I'm being truthful, curious as to the inner workings of Arcane and Reality-Distortion magics."

Renaud expression turned somber. "I understand where you are coming from, Mr. Beaufort. I too was once a talented and ambitious young man who dreamed of wielding the power of Reality-Distortion. Do not be swayed by it.

Focus hard on mastering Transfiguration and completing your apprenticeship with Laura. Only after you too are a Master, should you even attempt to start walking down that path. Any time before that will leave you utterly ruined."

Archer gulped a little. Renaud was extremely serious when he was giving his warning. Nodding, he said "I promise I will not attempt to learn about Reality-Distortion until I am a fully qualified master of the guild. You have my word, Grandmaster Renaud."

"Good. I trust that an intelligent young man like yourself will realize that I ask this of you for your own good. Do not sabotage your future for temporary power. Work hard under Laura, and I will look forward to the day I can call you a colleague."

By this time, both were finished with their tea, so Archer stood up. Giving Renaud a bow, he thanked him for his time, and left for his dorm room. He hadn't expected their conversation to be this emotionally exhausting, especially after he went in thinking that his problem was inconsequential.

'Wait a minute. Morgana should have existed in this world as well. Was she a Dark Witch? Surely, she would have avoided the worst Dark Arts, as they would corrupt her soul completely.'

He needed to find out if she had a grimoire like the one in his old reality. She would be invaluable help in planning and learning. Her knowledge of rituals would probably still be there, if anything, it might be better seeing as rituals are a traditional Grey and not as Dark magic.

Despite what the British Ministry may parrot, all pureblood children would be undergoing family rituals before and during their Hogwarts years. Thank Merlin he would be going in with a huge advantage with Morgana's rituals. Otherwise, the chance of those bastards beating him became a possibility.

'Alright, Renaud says that Laura will offer me an apprenticeship by the end of the year. I'll accept of course, but what does that mean for my inheritance. She knows I'm the child of at least one magical family. Does she get access to my inheritance if she's my master? Damn, I'll have to do more research before accepting.'

His thoughts swirled as he reached his dorm and collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to change his clothes.

'Who knew that this reality would be so complicated?' was his last thought before he journeyed to the realm of Morpheus.