1994 Pt.5

"Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement."

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[NEWT Transfigurations Classroom.]

Niklaus cast several isolation enchantments around his workstation, the familiar incantations flowing from his wand with practised ease. These safety measures were taught to students in the advanced NEWT courses, ensuring that any volatile spells remained contained.

"Mr. Grey, all set for your work, I hope?" Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the hum of focused activity.

Niklaus turned to face his Transfiguration professor and gave a firm nod. "Yes, Professor."

"If you need any assistance, I'll be with your classmates discussing conjuration," she said, gesturing toward her desk at the front of the room.

"Thank you, Professor," Niklaus replied, already shifting his attention back to his task.

This was the rhythm of his Transfiguration classes. After his fifth year OWLS the previous year, he approached Professor McGonagall with a request to study and experiment independently during class time. Niklaus had given up on blending in with his peers and decided to push for certain special privileges in class. It had taken some convincing, but his impeccable grades and clear goals had swayed the deputy headmistress to allow him this unusual arrangement.

Let it not be said that Minerva McGonagall could not be flexible if she liked an idea enough.

He focused back on the subject for today's work. A small piece of wood with a small runic carving sat on the top of his table, covered under a small spherical bubble of magic. Niklaus stared at the bubble in silence even as he imagined what he wanted to do in his mind clearly. It was the first time he was attempting this piece of transfiguration, but he knew that it was possible, at least in theory.

All well-executed transfiguration is permanent and is clearly indistinguishable from its 'real' counterparts under the scrutiny of a non-magical observant. It is physically and chemically the same object as whatever the caster imagined. This was something that Niklaus had learned a long time ago.

Niklaus slowly waved his wand in a circle above the enchanted bubble silently. It was the general transfiguration spell to change the material of an object. Mutato Materia.

It could be used to do many things, like changing an iron key to a wooden one or changing water to wine. However, it was a little more stamina-draining than spells designed for specific uses. Now what had Niklaus used the spell for? He had used it to change the nitrogen in the enchanted bubble into oxygen. Or at least that was what Niklaus had attempted.

It was merely a matter of testing whether he was successful, so Niklaus said in a clear voice, "Agni," focusing on the piece of wood and the Sanskrit word for fire. The small Sanskrit engraving for fire on top of the wood glowed in white light before the wood caught fire and started burning. Niklaus watched with a grin as the wood burned quickly and brightly just like it would in a very oxygen-rich environment, proving beyond any doubt that fluid transfigurations during battles were feasible.

There were a few wizards who learned what the muggle world had to offer, but there were even fewer wizards who thought to apply that knowledge to magical applications. Something that Niklaus would be exploiting to the best of his ability in the coming times.

"It seems your idea has merit. Mundane Alchemy seems to be an interesting field of study, Mr Grey." Niklaus jolted a little at the voice before he turned around and found McGonagall who looked impressed.

Niklaus grinned. "The theory was there, this is merely a practical application of the concept. I hope I am not disappointing you with my performance in class."

McGonagall shook her head. "No, Mr Grey. You have performed well and I am not disappointed at all when it comes to your academics. Though your extra-curricular activities have failed to impress me." Niklaus felt a secrecy charm being cast and had to suppress a twitch as the foreign magic washed over him and his workstation.

"I am sorry to hear that Professor. Would I be correct to assume that this is about the club I have started?"

Niklaus kept his face carefully neutral when the woman nodded curtly and said, "Your actions no matter how well intended were not well-thought Mr Grey. To divulge such sensitive knowledge about him was not well received by the governors of the school. There has been talk of cancelling any further meetings and disbanding the club to stop any panic or worry within the student body and parents. While there may not be any official actions taken against you, you have damaged your chances of working for the ministry and many important businesses due to your actions."

Niklaus wanted to scoff at the idea of disbanding his club. It would only accelerate the rate at which the information about Riddle would spread. Niklaus did end up scoffing when she mentioned the damage to his future career.

"Well, I am absolutely distraught that the Ministry will not want to hire me. I could have at least made it to the under-secretary for the Department of Commerce. That is, after all, the highest office a half-blood holds. O, I must have misremembered but the boy has a pureblood uncle who is the head of said department so maybe I will just be a glorified mule for products of nepotism to dunk their work on. They are free to disband the club if they will, it is, after all, a right of the governors of Hogwarts." Niklaus gave the woman a sarcastic smile. Niklaus Grey wouldn't work under the Ministry of Magic even under the Imperius curse let alone fear the likes of Malfoy and some old bones that obeyed him at the slightest of threats and coercion.

McGonagall gave the boy a thoughtful look for a moment before finally she sighed. "Professor Dumbledore has requested you to the Headmaster's Office. Professor Sprout will be there as well." She waved her hand dismissively and the secrecy charm that she had cast around them faded away.

[Bureau de Coordination des Affaires Magiques Internationales, France]

The office of the Head of the International Magical Affairs Bureau of France was a masterpiece of magical architecture and interior design. Blue and silvery-grey walls encased the room, adorned with matte black furniture that gave off an air of sophistication. The walls were alive with beautiful art and engravings depicting angels, sirens, veela, mermaids, and resplendent pagan gods. Some of them sang beautiful songs, some promised salvation, and the others raged at anybody who bothered to get close in a manner that befits the gods that they were made in the image of. On the ceiling of the office, a grand chandelier with blue and white flames cast a serene glow across the room, dancing softly on the exquisite surfaces below.

Amidst this elegance, on a plush blue sofa that stood out starkly against all the other matte black furniture, lay Fleur Delacour. With her silver-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and her nearly violet-blue eyes fixed on an open bag of potato chips, she looked every bit the lazy prodigy she was known to be. Dressed casually, Fleur munched contentedly, her posture relaxed and carefree.

Madame Monet, Fleur's supervisor and the Head of the department for the past seven months, observed her with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Monet, a stern but kind woman with an aura of authority, had grown to appreciate Fleur's brilliance and competence, despite her frustrating laziness.

"Fleur," Monet began, her voice a mixture of patience and persistence, "Will you be leaving for Magical Britain to participate in the tournament with your peers or are you planning to focus on your NEWTS?" Monet knew that the girl wouldn't be focusing on anything other than her junk food but Monet did not think that Fleur would ever not focus on her junk food.

Fleur looked up, her expression one of mild annoyance at being pulled away from her snack. "I don't want to go," she said with a sigh, her voice melodious yet petulant. "Headmistress Maxime eez forcing me. Apparently, I need to 'represent our school' and 'build character'." She rolled her eyes dramatically as if the very idea of building character through responsibility was idiotic.

Monet raised an eyebrow, accustomed to Fleur's theatrics. "And you think you don't need to go?"

"I'd rather sleep all day," Fleur replied, stretching languidly on the sofa. "Why should I go to entertain people who hate my guts? It's a ridiculous tournament. Zey're making me compete to prove a point I don't care about. It eez not my ability that our hosts want to test, it eez my inability. So that they can fuel their propaganda just like you and Maxime want me to use my ability to fuel your propaganda."

Monet listened calmly, her expression inscrutable. Fleur continued, her tone turning from lazy to exaggeratedly indignant. "Madame Maxime—she's a friend of my mozzer's, you know—treats me like some spoiled girl who needs to 'understand zat talent isn't everyzing'. As if I need to prove myself to anyone! And you! You just want to prove zat zis little idea about international cooperation is a step forward zat our diligent ministry is taking."

Monet shrugged off the rant with the ease of long practice. Fleur Delacour was lazy, not stupid. The young girl seeing through her and Maxime's plans had been a certainty. "And what do you want to do, Fleur?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Fleur paused, potato chip halfway to her mouth. "Honestly? I just want to relax, maybe travel a bit, eat good food, and sleep. I don't see why I need to bother with all zis... effort."

Monet sighed softly. "You have so much potential, Fleur. It is a gift that you are adamantly fixated on wasting. Merely six months of internship in this department has shown me that your laziness is slowly destroying you."

Fleur smiled lazily, popping the chip into her mouth. "Potential is overrated, Madame Monet. Happiness eez what matters."

Monet sighed before shaking her head. "I can respect that take on life if nothing else."

Fleur was about to quip again but Monet continued, "But do you really want to miss this opportunity, Fleur? I know that Maxime forcing you will make you do the bare minimum to get the job done but I, no not just me, the Minister himself alongside a few other department heads want Beaubaxtons to perform well. There are a lot of incentives that we can offer for a flashy performance. You don't even have to win, just demonstrate the power and pride that Magical France wields."

There. Monet had said it. The reason why she had been pushing Maxime to get Fleur Delacour on the roster for Beaubaxtons' visit to Hogwarts. This was more than just a tournament. It was a place for the respective wizarding societies to flex their proverbial muscles and Monet believed that Fleur Delacour, if the girl really applied herself was the best chance they had of winning the tournament.

Fleur got up into a sitting position quickly before leaning forward onto Monet's desk and said, "Incentives? What kind of incentives?"

Monet inwardly punched the air with a mental cry of success.

"What would it take for you to do your best Mademoiselle Delacour? Fleur smiled at the question and Monet suddenly remembered the fact that she was talking to someone who had the blood of a predatory creature running through them.

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A|N: Drop powerstones if you like the chapter, please. Also, add this fic to your collection so that you get a notification when I add new chapters since the update schedule will be mostly random. However, I will try for at least three updates every week from now on.

Now as for my comments on the chapter itself. In this chapter, we saw how Niklaus tends to use his magic to supplement and alter the application of the natural laws of the world. He doesn't like to brute force his manipulation of reality and takes a more guiding approach in how he uses magic. So you all can be sure that Niklaus will be using mostly magic but sometimes tamper his magic with science for greater efficiency or power. Another important thing in the fic is that well-executed Transfiguration is permanent and indistinguishable from real things unless the transfigured object is put under magical scrutiny where transfiguration will fail and allow a way for the implementation of rituals and alchemy seamlessly into the magical system of the Wizarding World.

And finally hope you all like my take on Fleur. She is not some nymphomaniac, woe-is-me emo bitch character but rather a real girl who is a prodigy with a different kind of baggage than most authors like to write her as.

See you next time dear readers.