That evening, the De Versailles manor was quiet, bathed in the amber glow of chandeliers and the soft crackling of the fireplace. Louis spent the night with his parents in the grand salon, sipping warm tea and recounting the highlights of his vacation. His mother listened attentively, a gentle smile on her face, while his father asked questions about Fleur and Beauxbatons with thoughtful curiosity.
The next morning, Louis dressed in his Ravenclaw uniform and boarded the Hogwarts Express once more. He found his friends—Cho, Evangeline, and Charles—in their usual compartment, and laughter quickly filled the space as they exchanged stories of their spring holidays.
They arrived at Hogwarts before nightfall, the familiar sight of the castle bathed in twilight filling them with excitement. After returning to their common rooms and unpacking their belongings, the group met in their hidden headquarters. Since they had the rest of the day free, they decided to directly dive back into their magical theory manuscript.
By late afternoon, however, their progress came to a halt. They were stuck on a critical section—an idea that would tie their theories together, a key to unify their views on magical potential and spellcasting philosophy. But no matter how much they debated, the clarity they sought eluded them.
"We're missing something," Charles said, frowning. "Something fundamental."
"Agreed," Evangeline sighed. "Let's split up and do another book run."
"Good idea," Louis nodded. "Charles and I will head to Rowena's secret chamber. You two check the restricted section, grab anything with broad magical classifications or rare theory."
Dividing into teams, they set out. Louis and Charles returned with half a dozen tomes inscribed in Archaic Runes and hidden beneath centuries of dust. Evangeline and Cho came back with thick, modern compendiums and a rare copy of The Emotional Architecture of Magic.
They worked until the sky outside turned violet. The candlelit Room of Requirement was filled with murmured readings, scribbled notes, and diagrams forming on the enchanted blackboard. When the dinner bell echoed through the halls, they paused and walked together to the Great Hall, satisfied but tired.
After the meal, Cho, Evangeline, and Charles decided to rest. Louis, however, returned to the Room of Requirement alone. The room reshaped itself for focused study: tall shelves, floating candles, and a single desk facing a vast window that revealed the night sky.
Driven by determination, Louis poured over every book they had collected. He cross-referenced Rowena's writings with modern texts, traced the evolution of spell structures, and meditated on magical intent. Hours passed. As he layered concepts—magical resonance, energy purity, theoretical limits—a pattern began to emerge.
Then it clicked.
Louis leapt from his chair, grabbing a parchment. He began sketching a framework that had long eluded him: a system not of mere magical strength, but of resonance—a balance between one's magical energy, emotion, knowledge, and intent. He called it:
The Theory of Magical Stratification.
Instead of listing raw power, Louis proposed that a sorcerer's potential could be classified by the purity and alignment of their magical essence. Magic, he reasoned, was not static. It was shaped by emotion and clarity of purpose. A burst of love, grief, or determination could momentarily elevate a wizard's capabilities, allowing for spells far beyond their normal reach.
Drawing on what he read in The Emotional Architecture of Magic, Louis made a breakthrough: emotions didn't just influence spell success—they refined the very energy used to cast. When a wizard experienced an intense, sincere emotion—be it love, resolve, or sorrow—that emotional resonance could momentarily purify their magical core. This purification made their spells more potent, more stable, and more precise. Temporary, but profound.
From this, Louis developed a model. The core idea: a sorcerer's power was not just based on skill, but on the purity of their magical essence—its alignment with intent and emotion.
At the foundation was Rank 0—the Unawakened. These individuals had magical potential but had not accessed it consciously. Their magical essence was dormant, clouded, almost inert.
Rank 1 encompassed the Initiated—those who had learned to harness magic in structured forms. Most adult wizards and witches belonged here. Their energy was active, but impure, diluted by confusion or emotional inconsistency.
Rank 2, the Practitioners of Depth, showed a marked refinement. These were Aurors, spellcrafters, and researchers—those who had honed their cores through discipline and purpose. Their magic, though not perfect, was considerably more focused and coherent.
Then came Rank 3—the Transcendents. Sorcerers in this tier had developed a unique clarity. Their emotional and intellectual spheres worked in harmony, their magical signatures vibrant and stable. They could shift their magical resonance at will, adapting it to their intentions like an artist with a palette.
And finally, Rank 4—the rare Arcane Pillars. Their magical energy was so pure, so aligned, that they shaped magic instinctively. Their cores burned bright and unwavering. Dumbledore. Grindelwald. Perhaps Merlin. These were figures whose resonance had reached what Louis now called the White State—the theoretical peak of magical harmony.
To visualize this, Louis imagined a color spectrum representing magical resonance:
A chaotic or suppressed core would produce Gray—unstable, inconsistent.
Calm and reasoned minds emanated Blue—focused, steady, intellectual.
When emotion and wisdom aligned, the result was Gold—balanced, adaptive, powerful.
Under powerful emotional influence—love, courage, righteous anger—a core might flare Crimson, unlocking exceptional feats of magic temporarily.
And at the zenith stood White. The symbol of purity, unity, and complete magical harmony. Rare, perhaps unreachable by most—but a guiding ideal.
Louis felt the idea crystallize in his mind. This wasn't just a theory. It was a lens through which to understand magic itself—its living, breathing nature.
Heart pounding, Louis reached for the enchanted journal that sustained his link with Fleur. He scrawled across the page, unable to contain his excitement.
"Fleur, I did it. I found the structure—the system that brings all our theories together. Magic, emotion, clarity—it all fits!"
Her reply came quickly.
"I can feel it from here. You've found something important. I'm so proud of you. Tell me everything."
Grinning, Louis continued to write, pouring every detail of his breakthrough onto parchment while explaining his new discoveries to Fleur. The night outside deepened, but he remained at his desk, illuminated by candlelight and the glow of possibility.
The framework he had crafted could change not just their book—but the magical world's understanding of power itself