"First, we'll register our arrival. Then I'll visit a close friend of mine. She's an Auror with the French Ministry," Amy said briskly as she led Rowan out of the Portkey Office. "Her place is big. We'll stay with her while we're in Paris."
They rode a cage-style lift up into the main hall. Amy pointed Rowan to a bench.
"Wait here a moment. I'll say hello and grab the keys."
"I was thinking—" Rowan began. He had been about to suggest staying at an inn on the magical high street instead.
Amy was already gone, vanishing into the crowd with her usual momentum.
Rowan exhaled quietly.
"Fine. As long as the teaching's good, the rest doesn't matter."
He had money. Staying at a hotel would be easier, even if it cost more, and it would give him quick access to the magical district. He could even cover Amy's lodging if needed. But that felt excessive, so he dropped the thought.
While Amy was gone, Rowan stood and took in the French Ministry of Magic. Compared to the rigid, old-fashioned British Ministry, this place felt lighter, more expressive. Decorative flourishes were everywhere, soft curves and elegant motifs hinting at an Art Nouveau influence.
About half an hour later, Amy returned.
"All set. We'll leave the Ministry first. Anti-Apparition wards are active here, so we can't jump directly. Once we're outside, I'll take you to my friend's place."
"You know the city. I'll follow your lead," Rowan said.
They took the lift up again and emerged onto Place de Furstemberg.
So the French Ministry was hidden beneath the square.
Amy scanned the area, then grabbed Rowan's arm.
"Apparition."
The world folded.
A heartbeat later, they reappeared on the Champs-Élysées.
Rowan blinked. "Your friend lives on the magical street?"
The Champs-Élysées was famous even among non-magical people, but it also marked the entrance to Paris's magical district. Housing here was notoriously expensive. Most witches and wizards worked in the Ministry but lived far outside the city.
"Paris is different from London," Amy explained as they walked. "Diagon Alley is old. It was built when there weren't many witches around, so it's compact. The Paris magical district was designed later. Same layout, same size as the Muggle street above it."
She gestured around.
"Only part of it is commercial. Most of it is residential. French wizards tend to live together. British ones scatter all over the country."
She stopped before a statue perched on a stone pillar in a narrow side passage.
"Confundus."
The guard near the statue blinked, momentarily unfocused. The statue lifted its skirts, revealing a hidden entrance. Amy stepped through without hesitation. Rowan followed.
The street beyond looked nearly identical to the Champs-Élysées, but the signs told a different story. Pet shops became magical creature boutiques. Pharmacies turned into potion stores. Bookshops advertised grimoires instead of novels.
The people, too, were different. French wizards favored modern clothing. Suits, coats, dresses. Wands were often the only giveaway. In contrast, British wizards still clung to traditional robes, especially the older generation.
It even showed in school uniforms. Hogwarts students wore robes year-round. Beauxbatons favored tailored blue suits and elegant dresses.
"Summer's lively here," Amy said as they walked. "You'll see Beauxbatons students on break. Sometimes there are magical creature performances if you're lucky."
She unlocked a door on the second floor of a residential building.
Inside, Rowan took a quick look around. Roughly 130 square meters. Three bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, a balcony. Clean, tasteful, European.
"Not bad," he said.
"It's still early," Amy replied, setting his suitcase down in an empty room. "You can explore the magical street if you want. I'm going to find a pub and have a drink. Tomorrow we start lessons."
She turned to leave.
Rowan stopped her with a raised hand.
"No need. I'm not interested in sightseeing right now. Let's start training today."
Amy froze, then stared at him.
After a moment, she laughed and gave him a thumbs-up.
"You're ruthless."
They'd known each other barely a day, but his composure and discipline were already unsettling. It was hard to believe he was only twelve.
For the sake of Galleons, Amy suppressed her craving for a drink. She shrugged off her jacket, rolled her shoulders, and began.
"Apparition comes down to three things: destination, determination, and control. Before casting, you must picture exactly where you're going. No vagueness. No hesitation—"
She didn't truly believe he could succeed. Even if he memorized every principle, a first-year's body simply didn't have the magical reserves to perform such an advanced spell.
That was why she'd refused him at first.
But she was desperate, and Rowan was rich. She would teach him properly, every theory, every technique. If his magic fell short, that wasn't her fault.
In a few years, when he grew stronger, it would work.
At least that's what she told herself.