The warm glow of twilight bathed the Delacour estate as guests arrived, dressed in their finest wizarding attire. Lanterns floated above the garden, glowing gently in the soft hues of early evening. The occasion was Fleur Delacour's eleventh birthday, and magic hung in the air like perfume.
Louis arrived with quiet confidence, dressed in a dark, finely tailored cloak trimmed with silver thread. A small, hand-wrapped gift was tucked under his arm—a collection of enchanted quills that wrote in flowing script. He paused at the entrance of the garden, his gaze sweeping across the gathered crowd. Familiar faces mingled with strangers, and the sound of laughter and soft music filled the air.
Fleur spotted him instantly. She broke away from a group of guests and ran up to him, her eyes lighting up. "Louis!"
He smiled, his demeanor softening. "Happy birthday, Fleur. You look radiant."
"Thank you! Come on—Maman and Papa are waiting to say hello."
Louis was led toward the center of the gathering, where Appoline and Monsieur Delacour stood greeting guests. They welcomed Louis warmly, exchanging a few kind words about his growth and studies. Appoline's eyes lingered a moment longer, pride shining in them—after all, Louis was not just a student, but perhaps her most gifted pupil.
As the greetings settled, Fleur tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, let's walk. I want to show you the lights Papa enchanted."
The two of them strolled away from the main group, weaving through small clusters of chatting guests. Louis nodded politely to those who greeted them, maintaining his composed aura. As they turned the corner of a rose-covered archway, Fleur whispered, "That's Nicolas Flamel. Over there by the fountain."
Louis's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. The famous alchemist stood alone, sipping a glass of sparkling cider, his aged yet sharp gaze observing the crowd. Nicolas Flamel, the legendary creator of the Philosopher's Stone, was a towering figure in magical history, known for his brilliance in alchemy and arcane lore. Reputed to have lived over six centuries, his name echoed through every magical library Louis had ever read.
Fleur nudged him. "Go on. Say hello."
With a composed breath, Louis approached. "Monsieur Flamel. It's an honor."
Nicolas turned, his eyes focusing on Louis with sudden interest. "And who might you be, young man?"
"Louis," he said simply. "A student of Appoline Delacour."
Flamel tilted his head. "Appoline's pupil, hmm? She only teaches those with great promise."
Louis gave a polite nod. "I've been studying under her for some time now. I specialize in magical theory and spellcraft."
Nicolas raised a bushy brow. "Spellcraft, you say? At your age?"
"Yes. I've even created one of my own."
Flamel's expression turned from curiosity to delight. "Is that so? Would you care to demonstrate?"
Louis hesitated a moment, then lifted his hand slowly—no wand in sight. He focused his eyes on a nearby decorative suit of armor and whispered, "Intuitus Gravem."
Immediately, a subtle tension filled the air. The guests near the armor unconsciously stepped away as the magical force bore down upon it. The helmet of the suit of armor began to rattle slightly, as if under an invisible weight. The spell—designed to create a sensation of overwhelming presence and pressure—left an eerie silence in its wake.
Flamel's eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed. "You cast without a wand. Fascinating... Psychological influence translated through magical focus. That's incredibly advanced spell design. Tell me, how did you conceptualize the spell's magical structure?"
Louis stood a little straighter. "I used a layered sigil framework, built around a central mentalist glyph. The emotion is channeled through will, rather than intent. That was the difficult part."
"Indeed it would be," Flamel murmured. "That's deep theory most adult wizards wouldn't dare touch. And without a wand? Remarkable."
Louis gave a respectful bow. "I'd be glad to discuss it further with you, perhaps in Paris."
Flamel chuckled. "You must visit. We could explore this further. The magical world needs minds like yours."
Louis smiled modestly. "Thank you, Monsieur. But tonight belongs to Fleur."
Louis returned to Fleur, who had been watching nearby, unsurprised but visibly proud. "You impressed the legend himself," she teased.
"He appreciates precision and thoughtfulness," Louis replied. "We'll speak again."
As they walked further, the conversation naturally turned toward Fleur's upcoming school year.
"So… Beauxbatons," Louis said, watching her carefully. "You're excited?"
Fleur hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Nervous, too. It'll be the first time I'm away from home."
Louis was silent for a moment. The idea of Fleur not being nearby settled heavily in his chest. He didn't let it show. Instead, he gave a small smile. "You'll shine there, Fleur. Just like you do here."
Fleur blushed. "You think so?"
"I know so," he said, but then quickly changed the subject. "Anyway… before you blow out the candles, there's something I want to do."
Fleur blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Watch."
He raised his hand again, palm out, and whispered the incantation he had practiced countless times: "Flamma Litterae."
A soft light began to glow from his fingertips. A second later, in the sky above, shimmering letters unfurled like ribbons of flame:
Happy Birthday, Fleur — From Louis
The guests gasped and looked upward, mesmerized by the slow-burning beauty of the letters dancing in the sky. Fleur stared, her mouth parted in awe. Then, slowly, her expression softened, and she threw her arms around him.
"You really did that… for me?"
Louis hesitated, caught off-guard by the contact. But then he smiled and gently returned the hug. "Of course. You've always been there for me. I wanted to give you something that would show how much that meant."
Fleur's eyes were a little glassy when she pulled back. "You're going to make a very powerful wizard one day, you know."
"Maybe," Louis said with a shrug. "But tonight, I'm just your friend."
The candles were blown out soon after, laughter and cheers echoing through the garden. As night settled in, Fleur and Louis ran off to join the younger guests playing games under the lanterns. For a little while, the complexities of their magical futures faded away.