"Arcturus?" Grand Master Renodier's dry voice pulled me from my reverie. "Are you with us? Or have the basic principles of multi-component elixir stabilization consumed so much of your brain's resources that nothing remains for the outside world?"
I flinched and straightened up. Missing even a single word, a single inflection from this man would be an unforgivable crime against knowledge.
"My apologies, Master. You have my full attention."
I focused on the lesson, continuing to absently twirl the smooth, cold, round pebble in my fingers that I had created right here, on the edge of the table, while the Master was merely preparing to begin the lesson. The whole process had taken me just over a minute. All it required was drawing a minor circle of transmutation on paper, holding a clear mental image: a stone, but not just any pebble, one with a specific density, composition — at least a presumed one — and with a water-polished smoothness. To infuse this circle with my own magic, feeling the energy flow from my finger, and to watch as a handful of ordinary dust and fine earth, poured into the circle, compacted, darkened, and before my eyes, transformed into a real, basaltic pebble.
This act, of course, consumed a vast amount of energy — far more than a simple silent spell. But I had energy in abundance, and when I finally learned to create not primitive circles but complex alchemical schematics with amplifiers and conduits, these expenditures would be reduced many times over. And even if from the outside it looked like a useless, almost childish waste of power, the very essence, the very potential of what I had just done was mesmerizing. For this pebble in my hand was not merely a transformed handful of dust. Oh, no, far from it. It was genuine, rock born from the depths of an alchemical act. A tiny act of creation, essentially, and the awareness of it took my breath away. For me, it was far more fascinating than any potion-making.
And this was just something I created in a minute or two. But I could have used a material more suited in density, and then the result would have come at a lesser cost. In the same way, I could create many other things, and with proper preparation, I could potentially use alchemy to enhance spell effects. But that was just fantasy without a practical concept for now. Mere imagination and hypothesis.
When the lesson finally ended, I was about to approach him myself, to say goodbye, but he dismissed Céline and decided to speak with me personally.
***
POV: Borel Renodier, Grand Master(Magister) of the Alchemists' Guild
Grand Master Renodier watched as Arcturus, mesmerized, twirled the basalt pebble between his fingers. One hundred and forty-six years — the thought flickered through the old alchemist's mind. A whole life, dedicated to science. Dozens, hundreds of students had passed through his life, receiving knowledge from the old Master. And here was another one. He had studied for such a brief time… merely an instant for a man of such advanced age. But perhaps he would be one of his last students.
When the lesson officially ended and Céline left the study, Renodier gestured for Arcturus, who was about to leave, to remain.
"Stay a moment." He slowly lowered himself into his armchair, his bones creaking softly, reminding him of his age. One hundred and forty-six. Ten, twenty years — that is how long he still hoped to live… or perhaps not. And beyond these years, fleeting as leaves in the wind, lay only silence.
"Arcturus, an excellent execution of such a simple, yet wondrous transmutation," the Grand Master said, his piercing gaze studying the young man.
"Thank you, Grand Master, and I apologize once more for my distraction during the lesson. Sometimes, even such a simple transmutation… captivates the mind," Arcturus replied, and sincerity was evident in his eyes. Falsehood is easily recognized with such experience.
Renodier nodded, a shadow of a weary smile flickering in his eyes. Captivates. That was the very word he himself had used more than a century ago, when his teacher first showed him something similar.
"Captivates," he repeated. "An accurate definition. Many alchemists see in alchemy merely a tool for transmutation. You, however, seem to have grasped its very essence. A pity we have almost no time left to develop this understanding." The Master paused, his gaze growing deeper, directed into the depths of the years he had lived. "Your brief apprenticeship is drawing to a close. And I wish to tell you something I would not say to another student. But I would like to preserve the spark of alchemy within you. Perhaps this very spark will kindle the greatest flame."
"I am listening, Grand Master," Arcturus replied quietly but clearly.
Renodier's voice grew quieter and deeper, taking on the resonance of many lived years.
"At my age, Arcturus, one begins to see not individual lives, but entire generations. Students come and go, their faces fade from memory. Yours would have faded too, had you not been… one of the last. Had I not been so desperately desirous of minds capable of continuing the work of my life. You studied here for but an instant in my perception, but you still have much time ahead. The important thing is to continue on this path without straying from it."
Arcturus Malfoy remained silent, and by his entire demeanor, it was clear he was listening attentively to every word.
"I have dedicated everything to alchemy," Renodier continued, and for the first time, a raw, bitter passion sounded in his always measured, restrained tone. "Formulas, theorems, alloys… these are my children. But children on parchment… they will be dead without a living mind to understand them, challenge them, develop them. I see in you a talented youth. I see a spark. That very spark which allows one to see in alchemy not just a craft, but something far greater." He looked at Arcturus with a direct, open gaze. "Stay," a nearly personal, deep plea sounded in the old Master's voice for the first time. "I will teach you personally. Without compensation. You need knowledge, and I… I need students who are not afraid to think as I no longer can."
He saw the young man's eyes light up, saw the storm this offer stirred within him. The heir to the Malfoy family understood the full gift being offered to him. And it was all the more bitter to watch as that light in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a heavy, yet firm, recognition of reality.
"Grand Master…" the young man began, and Renodier already knew the answer. Britain… obligations. The shackles into which he was born. He listened to the speech full of gratitude and sincere regret. The polite, yet unwavering refusal, and nodded with a slight, familiar sadness. A pity. A great pity. He could have become a good alchemist, capable, like Renodier's other students, of truly understanding his works, not just memorizing them.
"Very well," Renodier sighed, casting aside regret as a luxury impermissible for a scholar. Knowledge must not be lost. If he cannot stay, then let him at least take with him the tools for the journey ahead. "You were able to grasp the theory that my student studies, and that is already a deep, far from basic level. You understood this theory, but it is useless to you now, for your foundation requires urgent and fundamental work. Here." He extended a previously prepared, tightly rolled scroll. A three-year program and reading list. Let this at least serve as his support. "Master this. And if fate brings you back, my door will be open to you."
The Malfoy heir listened, his face serious and focused. When the young man spoke, there was none of his usual diplomatic restraint in his voice.
"Master Renodier," he began. "I… I don't know what to say. Except thank you. These weeks have been the greatest revelation for me. You didn't just teach me. You showed me a facet of magic that will remain with me for life. I can only thank you for the very opportunity to receive knowledge from you."
"I… offered you to stay, but not out of simple courtesy," Renodier said quietly but distinctly. "I offered it because my time is running out, and I wish to leave behind as many people as possible who truly understand the science to which I have given over a century of my life."
"Master, I would wish to walk the path of alchemy, but I cannot limit myself to just one facet. I also wanted to tell you that in Britain, you will always be a welcome and honored guest for me and my family. And your teachings will not be lost as long as there are still alchemists, or perhaps as long as I live. I was infinitely glad to study under such a great man," Arcturus's voice trembled with emotion.
Renodier listened, and something long-forgotten, warm and aching, tightened in his chest. Many times in his long life he had heard similar speeches from other students upon parting, but regardless of that, the old Grand Master did not forget a single one, carefully preserving each in the depths of his memory, as one preserves rare and precious ingredients for future great achievements.
"You flatter an old man," he muttered, but his stern face softened, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out.
"No, Master. It is not flattery. It is admiration and recognition of your contribution," Arcturus countered firmly, looking directly into the old alchemist's eyes, deep as the void. As deep as this man's vast experience. "From your student who arrived as fleetingly as he departs. If I even have the right to call myself your student. But at the very least, you taught me the most important thing — the art of creation."
The old alchemist looked at him, and for the first time in many years, he felt something distantly resembling peace. Perhaps not all was in vain. Perhaps the seed had still fallen on fertile ground, even in such a brief span.
"Very well," he rose from his chair with some effort, leaning on the carved back. "Then, as a final assignment… Ask your question. The most important one. The one that burns your mind and keeps you awake at night."
Arcturus exhaled without hesitation: "The Philosopher's Stone. Everything I've read are myths and allegories. What is it, truly?"
Renodier gave a slight, wry smile, and for the old wizard, this question was more laughable than any joke, a bitter irony piercing through the centuries.
"Always about the Stone. Everyone is drawn to immortality…"
"Me too," Arcturus did not retreat, "but I want knowledge as well. I don't believe in the omnipotence of the Stone as described in fairy tales, and I would like to learn from you what it truly is." There was not a shadow of doubt in his voice, only a thirst for truth.
Renodier looked at the youth attentively, and approval was visible in his gaze.
"You are on the right path," his voice acquired a metallic resonance, as if sounding through the thickness of years and knowledge. "The Stone… is not an object, it is a state. A singularity of magic, embodied in matter…."
Renodier began to tell him about what he had worked on for so many years.
***
The sky over Provence grew gloomier with each passing hour that day. After an extremely productive conversation with Master Renodier and a farewell to a truly great alchemist, I faced another conversation — perhaps even more important than the scheduled talk with Madame Isabelle.
The weather was unkind, the sky covered by a dense veil of grey clouds. Rare for these parts, raindrops fell lazily and indecisively onto the leaves of the dragon roses planted right at the manor's entrance. The air smelled of damp earth, but only faintly. The most fitting weather for a difficult conversation… the irony.
We walked across the manor grounds, heading slightly deeper into the garden, but this time almost without looking around. Tension hung between us, thick as the air before a downpour. We both knew what conversation awaited us that evening, and both understood that approaching it without having spoken frankly first… would be foolish.
We had a full month and a half for this, and only now, on this overcast day, were we having this conversation for the first time. Tomorrow morning I would return home, and today had clearly become a day for difficult talks.
"It's a shame the weather didn't cooperate on the last day," Céline began, breaking the silence. Her voice sounded slightly louder than usual. She usually spoke in a very quiet, melodious voice.
"I even like it," I admitted honestly. "It reminds me of home. And… it seems a suitable backdrop for serious topics."
She nodded, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, on the tops of the cypress trees.
"Mother has been in her 'strategic' mood since this morning. I don't think tonight will be for small talk."
"I sense that too," I sighed. We reached the circular flowerbed and stopped, finally looking each other in the eyes. "We both understand what kind of conversation it will be. So, Céline, we must talk in private. About what… my visit implied, but which we ourselves have never spoken of aloud."
She crossed her arms, not in a defensive posture, but rather as if gathering her thoughts. Her eyes, usually warm and full of curiosity, were now as serious as ever.
"I knew this day would come. You brought it up, so… tell me, what do you think of all this, Arcturus? Of a possible engagement, of the alliance, and… of me?"
I walked to the edge of the flowerbed, running my finger over a rain-dampened petal. I needed to find the most precise words.
"I think that a month and a half ago, when I first arrived, you were merely a possible choice to me. It felt like I was coming to a stranger's house for a viewing… except we both knew from childhood what we sacrifice for the privileges we receive."
"Freedom…" the girl sighed bitterly. And then asked quietly: "And now?"
"And now…" I turned to her. "Now I look at you and realize that if I had to choose, my heart, my mind, and my ambition would all point to you. You are a brilliant match, Céline. Not just because of your name or beauty. But because I find it interesting to talk with you for hours. You are the only girl who can surprise me with knowledge not even found in books. Who isn't afraid to argue with me and whose mind I respect more than that of most so-called 'adult' wizards."
She blushed, her cheeks flushed, and she lowered her gaze, but I saw the corners of her lips tremble in a restrained smile.
"You say embarrassing things, but as if you're reporting them to me," she tried to joke, but her voice betrayed her agitation.
"I speak this way because… I have feelings for you, Céline. I am not in love with you, but I am fond of you as a person and as a girl… you are genuine. And you and I… we could become a magnificent team." I took a step closer. "But here's the problem. I am still angry that decisions are being made for me. I don't want our possible union to be the result of a deal struck by our parents behind our backs. I want to set the terms myself, I want to have power over my own fate, childish as that may sound."
She looked up at me, embarrassed. A whole storm of emotions swirled in her eyes: relief, understanding, and that very budding infatuation she carefully hid behind a mask of scholarly detachment.
"I… also don't want to be bargained for," she confessed. "When you arrived, I was prepared to hate you. I thought you would be a self-satisfied, boring aristocrat with no interest in the magic and sciences that live in my heart. I imagined all sorts of things, because you could have seen me as merely a beautiful accessory. But you… you are different. You delved into my interests, you argued with Grandfather Alain as an equal. You made Louis and Frédéric accept you as a brother. And yes," she smiled openly now, "your progress in alchemy… it's impressive. Master Renodie today… he offered you to stay, didn't he?"
I nodded.
"He did. And it was the most tempting offer of my life. But it would have meant a silent 'yes' to everything else, as well as losing everything I've built at Hogwarts over two years. And I am not ready to say that yes. Not now."
"Why?" There was no resentment in her voice, only curiosity.
"Because I have a plan," I said, lowering my voice. "I agreed with my father on a year's time to decide. About half a year remains before anything is announced officially. I need this time. Not to look for someone else," I added hastily, seeing her gaze darken for a moment. "But to… create the conditions. So that when the time comes, I, perhaps even agreeing, will do so on my own terms. I don't want to come to this decision as a boy who was brought and introduced. I want to be Arcturus Malfoy, who has his own achievements behind him and who decides his own fate. And so that my future wife would look at me not as a convenient groom from business partners, but as a man she chose herself."
She listened, holding her breath. The rain began to fall more frequently, but we didn't notice it.
"You've made everything so complicated," she whispered. "As always… but your striving for freedom… is so beautiful."
Céline fell silent, pondering my words. An internal struggle was visible in her eyes between reason, which approved of such a pragmatic approach, and the young, just-awakening feeling.
"You are right," she finally exhaled. "This should be our decision. Not their deal." She looked at me, and a familiar fire ignited in her gaze, the same one that appeared when she spoke of alchemy. "Alright, Arcturus. I agree to your six months. But know this…" she took a step forward, reducing the distance to a minimum, and her voice sounded firm, "…I will not wait idly. I will write to you. I will share my discoveries. And I will be watching. And I just wanted to say that I see in you the only one who can share my interests, who will be interested in me… and whom I consider the only acceptable option."
It was the promise of an equal partner, who had her own weight, her own ambitions, and her own will.
I couldn't help but smile. This was precisely the reaction I had expected from her. But who would ultimately be the one? Amanda or Céline. And did I need to twist everything like this? Perhaps in the end, everything would turn upside down too sharply…
"I wouldn't have expected any other answer from you."
Thunder rumbled above us. And the rain only grew stronger.
"Time to go back," said Céline, and her gaze slid towards the manor.
We turned towards the house, walking shoulder to shoulder under the pattering rain. The upcoming conversation with Madame Isabelle no longer seemed so frightening. For we had sorted out our own relationship. Already sitting inside the manor, sheltered from the intensifying rain, we continued discussing this and more for a long time. This lasted right until dinner, and afterwards, the conversation awaited us.
***
Author's Note
To be honest, I initially thought France would take about five chapters… but the characters turned out so interesting!
What do you think, will the protagonist change his mind about the engagement upon returning to Hogwarts, where Amanda awaits him? And what is this plan he's come up with anyway? I've never revealed the plan itself, as it boils down to a single, quite obvious step.
What a bastard this Arcturus of yours is: he comes up with all these plans himself, and then I have to deal with the fallout (just kidding, he told me everything, but you write your guesses! It's really obvious.).
By the way, a reminder: there will be NO HAREM. And the plot is not about romance, although it might not seem that way in this chapter. So don't worry :)