HP : King In The Wizarding World

The choice had not come easily.

After weeks of contemplation and late-night discussions with his parents, Louis finally came to a decision. He would attend Hogwarts.

It was a decision that marked a departure not only from his current path, but from his past. To study magic in the very country that had once stood as the nemesis of his former kingdom—Great Britain—was no small gesture. The centuries-old rivalry between France and Britain echoed in his mind, a reminder of political clashes, territorial disputes, and royal enmity. It meant letting go. It meant moving forward.

His parents, initially hesitant, had ultimately supported him.

"You've always been different," his mother had said gently. "Not because of what you were, but because of what you can become. If Hogwarts helps you become that, then it is the right place."

But there remained one obstacle.

Fleur.

She had just entered Beauxbatons, full of joy and excitement. The thought of leaving her behind, of telling her he would not walk those marble halls with her, weighed heavily on his heart. Fleur was not just a friend. She had become one of his deepest connections in this new life.

He knew he had to tell her face to face. But even after deciding to speak with her directly, another thought lingered—how would they stay in touch?

That's when the idea struck him.

A spell. A way to speak to her directly, no matter the distance. Words whispered not through parchment but through thought. Something that could let them remain close despite the miles.

Louis called upon Nicolas Flamel.

They met once more in Flamel's Parisian home. As always, the space was filled with ancient tools and boundless magical energy.

"You want to create a telepathic bridge?" Flamel asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Yes. But only if the recipient accepts it. A consensual connection. The message should be clear, but soft. Like... like hearing someone speak from within."

"Not easy," Flamel mused. "But not impossible either. It resembles a combination of Legilimency and the Sending spells of the old Druids. We'd need an anchor—something to tie the sender and receiver emotionally."

"We already have that," Louis said simply.

Together, they spent hours sketching runes, muttering incantations, and channeling intent through complex magical diagrams. Louis' talent for spell construction—already notable—shone even brighter under pressure.

By the end of the day, they had something. A prototype spell. Its name: Verba Animae — Words of the Soul.

"The sender must focus deeply on the person," Flamel instructed. "Not just their face or name, but a memory—something deeply shared. It opens the mind to the connection."

Louis practiced, refining the magic until the cast was smooth, the connection subtle and calm. He'd speak the spell aloud with his hands, not a wand, and if the receiver opened their mind, the message would flow like water.

They took a break, sitting across from one another with a small pot of tea steaming between them. Nicolas observed Louis with a gentle, knowing smile.

"You care deeply for this girl, don't you?" he asked.

Louis looked into his cup. "Yes. It's strange. In my life, I've never known a bond like this. It's different. Simple, and yet it shakes me more than anything."

Nicolas chuckled softly. "Distance is a trial, Louis. It can erode friendships—or strengthen them, if both sides truly wish it. Communication is more than words. It's about presence, effort, intent."

Louis nodded, but doubt lingered in his mind. "And what if it fades? What if we grow apart, and this bond becomes just another memory I can't hold on to?"

"Then it will have been beautiful while it lasted," Flamel said. "But that is no reason not to try. Magic, like relationships, is a risk. It requires faith."

The words struck something deep within Louis. He had always been cautious, calculating. Trust didn't come easily—especially after everything he had experienced. And yet here he was, pouring part of his soul into a spell born of emotion.

As the afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Flamel's home, Louis closed his eyes and tested the spell again. He summoned a memory—Fleur laughing under a summer rain, her hair shining like silver-gold—and whispered the incantation. He didn't send a message, not yet. But the magic hummed to life in his hands, soft and steady.

He smiled, for just a moment.

He knew he wasn't ready to tell her everything yet. That would come later. Face to face.

But now, at least, he was preparing something that could outlast the moment.

That night, as he returned home, Louis sat by his window overlooking the Paris skyline. Lights twinkled below like stars fallen to earth. He traced the sigil of the new spell in the condensation on the glass.

Could magic really preserve what he feared to lose?

He didn't know. But for once, he allowed himself hope.