"It really does look more and more similar…"
That night, Rowan stood in front of the bedroom mirror, studying his reflection with a faint frown. As his body had grown over the past year, his features were starting to resemble his original Marvel-world appearance more and more.
"Is this because of shared abilities and physical traits?"
He dismissed the thought almost immediately. His cat and panda forms hadn't shifted toward that appearance at all. Then again, those weren't human bodies.
He shook his head and let it go. Looks didn't affect strength. Even if he ended up looking exactly like his original self, it wouldn't matter.
With that settled, Rowan went to bed early. Tomorrow, he was leaving for Paris.
The next morning, he got up early, ate breakfast, and left Peggy in Ollivander's care before dragging his suitcase to the Leaky Cauldron.
Amy lived there.
Not temporarily, either. She was a long-term tenant, renting by the year. Because of that, Tom charged her far less than usual. The reason was simple. She couldn't afford a place of her own.
Rowan still didn't quite understand how a former Auror with real skill had ended up this broke.
After greeting Tom, he went upstairs, found the room number Amy had given him, and knocked.
"Amy, it's Rowan. Time to go."
After knocking for a good while, he finally heard movement inside. Two minutes later, the door creaked open.
Amy stood there, bleary-eyed.
"Oh, it's you. Is it eight already?" she yawned. "Come in. I'll be ready in a minute."
Rowan dragged his suitcase inside.
"…Do you usually sleep without clothes on?" he asked, glancing at her bare upper body.
"Oh. Drank too much last night. Got hot and took them off."
She didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. Picking up her wand from the floor, she cast a quick series of spells. A revitalizing charm chased away her drowsiness. A cleaning spell tidied the room. Another summoned clothes into place, neatly dressing her in seconds.
The room was spotless again.
To Amy, Rowan was just a first-year kid. She was old enough to be his mother. Nothing about the situation felt awkward to her.
"I'll wash up. Then we leave."
"Take your time."
Rowan nodded, then silently added a private observation he kept to himself.
She really was in good shape.
Amy was in her early thirties, her figure full and healthy, her skin pale and well-kept. Hard to look away, honestly.
Once she finished packing, they went downstairs, grabbed a simple breakfast, and Amy Apparated them straight to the Ministry of Magic.
"International travel needs registration," she explained as they walked. "We'll check in with the Magical Transportation Office on Level Six, then take a Portkey straight to the French Ministry. And just to be clear, the hundred Galleons only covers Apparition training. Any other expenses are on you."
"Of course," Rowan replied calmly. "If your teaching pace satisfies me, I'll add twenty percent."
Amy immediately snatched his suitcase.
"Then you're in good hands. You're young. Let adults handle luggage."
"Much appreciated."
Rowan didn't argue. Spending money for better service was efficient. He had no shortage of Galleons. Between magical creatures, forbidden forest materials, and accumulated experience, earning money was trivial if he wanted to.
Amy's attitude improved visibly. Anyone watching might have thought Rowan was her own child.
"Amy," the witch at the Level Six counter said, staring. "When did you get such a big son?"
Amy waved her off. "What son? You know I don't even have a boyfriend. He's a… client."
"A client? With your ability, you really don't need to run that shop anymore. What happened back then is over. You should—"
Amy cut her off. "Not today. Just handle the paperwork. There's a line."
The clerk sighed and processed everything quickly.
Rowan didn't ask about Amy's past. He didn't need to. She wasn't his partner, just his instructor.
Afterward, they entered the Portkey Office.
"French Ministry of Magic," the official announced, placing a small metal model of the Eiffel Tower on the desk.
They both touched it.
The world lurched.
A brief pull, a twisting sensation—and then solid ground again.
A few seconds later, Rowan found himself in a new room. Amy stood beside him, holding both suitcases.
"Not bad," she said, impressed. "First Portkey trip and you didn't even get dizzy."
Rowan glanced around. "Good constitution. Where to next?"
He barely felt the disorientation. Compared to what his body could endure, this was nothing. Unpleasant, sure, but manageable.
Paris awaited.