After their evening in the QG spent recovering from the tension of their meeting with Dumbledore, the group eventually returned to the Ravenclaw common room. The fire had burned low, and the castle was bathed in a sleepy silence. One by one, they slipped off to their respective dormitories, too tired to speak much more.
Louis reached his room, the familiar high-arched window glowing faintly with the moonlight beyond. He shut the door softly behind him, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He carefully placed his wand and the manuscript bag on his desk, then reached into the drawer to retrieve a small magical artifact he'd purchased from a curious antique shop in Diagon Alley — a faintly glowing orb etched with runes.
But before beginning his dissection of the artifact, he sat cross-legged on his bed and closed his eyes, reaching through the bond.
"Fleur?"
The response came almost instantly, her presence washing over him like the gentle warmth of sunlight.
"Je suis là," came her soft mental voice. "Tout va bien ?"
"Oui, je voulais juste tout te raconter."
He switched to English for ease of explanation and began to recount everything — starting with Quirrell's strange dual mana signature, the uneasy discovery of corruption in his aura, their conversation with Dumbledore, and finally, the culmination of their work: the completed manuscript. Fleur listened attentively, responding with questions or thoughts when she felt the need, but mostly allowing him to speak.
"That's amazing, Louis. You're doing something really important."
"It's more of a group effort than you'd think," he replied. "But yes, it feels right. Like we're getting closer to something that matters."
Louis smiled, touched by the sincerity in her tone. As they continued talking, he shifted to his desk, wand in hand, and began working on the magical orb. He narrated his theories about its enchantments aloud, and Fleur offered observations and counterpoints, their conversation flowing seamlessly between friendship, intellect, and the quiet closeness they shared.
The orb's surface was delicate, etched with unstable binding runes. As Louis gently peeled back the top layer using a silver-edged enchanted scalpel, threads of magic shimmered underneath like liquid starlight.
"Curious... The central structure loops back on itself. A containment charm within a stasis loop," he murmured.
"Could be a magical trap," Fleur noted. "Or a battery for storing mana."
Louis nodded thoughtfully. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Eventually, as the hour grew late and the orb lay partially dissected under a charm of preservation, Louis rested his head on the desk, still linked with Fleur's steady, comforting presence.
"Goodnight, Fleur."
"Bonne nuit, mon cœur."
He fell asleep, the faint glow of the artifact pulsing like a heartbeat beside him.
The next morning, Louis woke with a slight crick in his neck but a glint of excitement in his eyes. The orb hadn't moved; it remained steady, quietly waiting. He stowed it safely in his enchanted drawer, got dressed, and rejoined the group for a normal day of classes.
The following week passed in an oddly calm rhythm — Defense Against the Dark Arts remained lackluster, Transfiguration rigorous, and Potions a battlefield of spilled cauldrons and whispered rivalries. Even amid the mundane, tension lingered under the surface, like a bowstring drawn tight.
Then, one golden afternoon, as the group was gathering their books after Charms class, an enchanted parchment fluttered down from the high vaulted ceiling, stopping just above Louis's head.
"The Headmaster requests your presence. Immediately."
No one spoke. They simply looked at one another, packed up quickly, and made their way through the wide halls toward the spiraling stairs of the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance stepped aside without a word.
Inside, the room was warm with golden light and faint traces of magical energy swirling in the corners. Dumbledore was standing by a shelf lined with memory vials, examining one before turning to greet them.
"Ah, my favorite authors," he said, eyes twinkling.
The group smiled, more relaxed now than they had been during their first visit. Louis, as usual, met Dumbledore's gaze calmly, unshaken.
"I have splendid news. Everything is arranged. Your book will officially be released tomorrow throughout all of Great Britain. Flourish and Blotts will lead the distribution, with prominent displays in their key shops."
There was a collective gasp. Cho nearly dropped her bag. Evangeline's mouth hung open.
Dumbledore continued, "You'll receive seventy percent of all profits. The remainder will go toward distribution and editing services. You are, of course, free to divide the earnings as you see fit."
Charles grinned. "That's... more than we expected."
"And richly deserved," Dumbledore said. "The quality of the writing and depth of magical understanding is, frankly, astonishing."
He turned toward Louis. "You mentioned before that you worked with Nicolas Flamel?"
Louis nodded. "Yes. He mentored me for several months last year, mostly on mana theory and magical structuring."
The conversation shifted into specifics — typesetting, acknowledgments. Louis took the lead, discussing suggestions and proposed additions with a calm professionalism that impressed even Dumbledore. The rest of the group contributed here and there, though mostly they were still wide-eyed at the reality of it.
By the end of the meeting, Dumbledore had reassured them that everything would be ready. All they needed to do now... was celebrate.
That evening, in the safety of the QG, the group decided to throw a clandestine party.
"We'll keep it small," Cho said. "Nothing crazy."
"Just a secret, rule-breaking celebration under one of the most secure towers in Hogwarts," Charles added with a grin.
When the Weasley twins got wind of the celebration, they asked if their younger brothers Harry and Ron could join too.
"They're first-years," Fred said. "But good kids. Thought they could use a bit of fun."
After a quick debate, the group agreed.
When Harry and Ron arrived, slightly nervous but curious, Louis stepped forward to greet them.
"Harry, Ron, right? I'm Louis De Versailles. Welcome to our little research group's hideout."
Evangeline smiled warmly. "I'm Evangeline, that's Cho, and over there is Charles."
"Nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking hands. "This place is amazing."
"Is it true you lot wrote a book?" Ron added, wide-eyed.
"Very true," Charles said proudly. "And tomorrow, the whole country will know it."
Invitations had also gone out to a few friendly faces from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. By the time the evening stars had risen, the QG was alive with glowing orbs of light, floating streamers, and an enchanted gramophone playing gentle magical tunes.
The Weasley twins brought an array of magical snacks and exploding candy. Hermione brought along a list of magical discussion topics, which she only partly got to use. Harry and Ron looked stunned to even be included. Laughter echoed, and for once, the stress of secrets and suspicions lifted.
Louis stood with a drink in hand, watching it all with a serene smile. These were the moments worth remembering.
Later that night, after every guests had left , the group was walking back toward the tower, they took a shortcut near the dungeons — and froze.
From the shadows, voices. Low. Sharp.
They ducked behind a statue, watching as Professor Snape loomed over Quirrell.
"You're hiding something," Snape said coldly. "And I will find out what."
Quirrell stammered, visibly shaking. "I-I d-don't know what you're talking about."
Snape narrowed his eyes, then turned sharply and stalked away.
The group remained silent for a few seconds.
"So... Snape's watching him too," muttered Charles.
"Not just watching," whispered Evangeline. "He knows something's wrong."
They hurried back to the common room in silence, the echoes of that confrontation lingering in their minds.
Louis lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, their book would be on shelves across the country. But he couldn't shake the unease curling in his stomach.