Prestigious Arts

---Five Weeks Later, June 1988---

"Chrysa, no," Harry sighed, gently pushing the Nemean Lion cub's face away from his porridge bowl. "You already had your breakfast."

"She's getting bigger," Nicolas observed from behind his copy of Le Oracle, the French magical newspaper. "Soon she'll be stealing whole roasts instead of just bits of bacon."

Perenelle set down a fresh pot of tea, her sleeve brushing against Harry's notes on quintessential flame. "Speaking of food, Harry, you've barely touched your breakfast. Too focused on your experiments again?"

"The Albedo phase almost held for one minute during the fourth stage yesterday," Harry said, finally taking a bite of porridge. "I think I've figured out why it keeps-"

A sharp crack against the window made them all jump. An enormous eagle owl had misjudged the distance, its beak leaving a small mark on the glass. The bird righted itself with as much dignity as it could muster, smoothing its bronze-colored feathers before tapping again - more gently this time.

"Well, that's different," Nicolas folded his paper, eyeing the pure-white envelope in the owl's beak. "Most post owls don't carry letters that shine like that."

The moment Perenelle opened the window, the owl swooped straight to Harry, nearly knocking over his tea. It presented the envelope with an air of self-importance that reminded Harry oddly of some of the prefects at Hogwarts.

The envelope was warm to the touch, and breaking the wax seal - a phoenix rising from a pencil - released the subtle scent of summer roses. The parchment inside seemed to be made of expensive materials that shone with moonlight.

Harry unfolded the parchment, while Chrysa abandoned her attempts at stealing porridge to investigate the owl, which shuffled nervously away from her intense gaze.

L'Académie Lumière des Arts Enchantés

Palais des Muses, Val de Loire

Dearest Mr. Potter,

It is with great pleasure and anticipation that we extend this personal invitation to participate in the 287th Grand Exhibition of Magical Artistry. Your revolutionary work in combining elemental manipulation with traditional artistic techniques has captured the attention of our most distinguished council members.

The Exhibition, to be held from July 15th through August 1st, represents the pinnacle of magical artistic achievement across Europe. This year's theme, "Innovation in Tradition," seems particularly suited to your unique approach to magical art.

We are especially intrigued by reports of your lightning sculptures and their preservation in Artisan's Crystals. Such masterful control of magic for artistic expression has not been seen since the great Leonardo da Vinci himself graced our halls.

Should you accept, you would be our youngest participant in three centuries. A special dispensation has been granted by the council members in light of your extraordinary talent.

Please respond by June 15th. Enclosed is a golden ticket for private viewing of our permanent collection, should you wish to visit before making your decision.

With highest regards,

Madame Apolline Delacour

Directrice of Special Exhibitions

L'Académie Lumière des Arts Enchantés

P.S. I trust you remember our meeting at Maison Capenoir? My daughter Fleur still speaks of your blue flames, though she insists her own are superior. Perhaps this Exhibition might settle that friendly rivalry? And do give my regards to the Flamels.

Harry looked up from the letter to find Nicolas and Perenelle exchanging curious glances.

Nicolas leaned forward, setting his newspaper aside. "Well? What has rendered you speechless?"

Harry passed over the letter, still staring at the golden ticket in his other hand. "It's from Madame Delacour - that day at Maison Capenoir, with her daughter and the Veela fire?"

"Delacour..." Perenelle set down her teacup, brow furrowing. "I don't quite..."

"The clothing shop," Harry prompted. "You were looking at different robes for me that day. The girl with silver-blonde hair challenged me to a fire-making contest?"

"Oh!" Nicolas' face lit up as he straightened in his chair. "Yes, now I remember! Though as I recall, neither of you actually won that impromptu contest – Nelle intervened before it went out of control."

Perenelle moved to read over Nicolas' shoulder, swishing her wand at the same time to let the breakfast dishes go wash themselves. "The Grand Exhibition... this is extraordinary. They almost never invite anyone under twenty, let alone under ten…"

Nicolas traced the seal with his finger. "Though I find myself wondering about the timing."

"What do you mean?" Harry looked up from where he'd been scratching behind Chrysa's ears.

"The timing of it all," Nicolas said slowly. "Coming not too long after your breakthrough with lightning art..." He set the letter besides his abandoned newspaper. "A lot of people are keeping a very close eye on your progress."

Perenelle nodded. "The French magical community has always been... particular about nurturing artistic talent. Especially when it comes to innovative magic use."

"You think they want more than just my art pieces?" Harry sighed, scratching behind Chrysa's ears as she abandoned the owl to lay her head in his lap.

"They want to secure a connection," Nicolas explained. "Your work is unique – using fire and lightning magic in ways nobody's seen before. Every place associated with art would love to claim some influence in your development."

"But you're already teaching me," Harry said, reaching for the golden ticket that had fallen beneath his napkin.

Perenelle smiled. "Yes, but Nicolas hasn't exactly advertised that fact. Most people think you're just visiting us occasionally, not receiving intensive training in both potions and herbology."

"So what should I do?" Harry asked.

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged one of their long looks - the kind that spoke of centuries together. The morning sunlight caught the silver in their hair as Chrysa pounced unsuccessfully at the butterfly, knocking over an empty chair.

"I think you should accept." Nicolas pulled his teacup away from the edge of the table as Chrysa's tail swept past. "But we'll need clear boundaries. You're an artist sharing your work, not some prodigy to be fought over."

The bronze owl ruffled its feathers, clearly impatient for a response. It hopped closer to Harry's plate, eyeing the remains of his breakfast.

"The private viewing would be worth your time," Perenelle said. "Their permanent collection includes pieces that could spark entirely new directions for your work." She shooed the butterfly toward the window. "And it might help to see what you're up against before committing to the Exhibition."

Nicolas gathered the scattered papers from breakfast. "Though perhaps wait until after your next session with Charlotte. How is that progressing?"

Harry's hands stilled on the ticket. "It's... the scars fade a little more each time, but the faith takes so long to rebuild. And even then, I can only affect such a small area..."

"All the more reason to keep that private." Perenelle said. "Let the Exhibition focus on your art. The healing needs space to develop naturally, and it isn't such a good idea to publicize what you can do."

The owl let out a demanding hoot, knocking over the salt cellar in its impatience.

"I should write back," Harry said, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack Nicolas had collected. His quill hovered over the page. "Do you think I should mention the fire challenge with Fleur?"

Nicolas chuckled. "Perhaps save that for the Exhibition itself. I have a feeling young Miss Delacour will ensure the subject comes up naturally."

"Well then," Harry dipped his quill in ink. "Let's see if I can write something suitably formal for L'Académie Lumière..."

After finishing his response, Harry made his way up the winding staircase to his room, pausing briefly to admire the gleaming crystal vial of Veritaserum displayed on one of his shelves. A month of careful brewing, precise timing, and patient waiting between stages had produced an exceptionally potent brew.

Harry allowed himself a small proud smile. Even if most of that month was just waiting for the next stages, the actual brewing had required perfect execution. Each step had to be...

His smile faded slightly as his gaze drifted to his workbench, where several notes laid. The Albedo phase of his quintessence flame remained frustratingly elusive. Oh, he could achieve it - that wasn't the problem. But maintaining more? Making progress?

He sat at his desk, running his fingers over the smooth surface of an Artisan's Crystal. Creating more stable silver-white flame spheres was possible, yes, but the difficulty increased exponentially. Two spheres he could maintain for ten minutes. Three spheres cut that time in half. Four spheres? Two minutes at most, and the strain of dividing his focus that many ways left him with a headache that even Perenelle's special tea couldn't fully soothe.

"How many?" he whispered to himself, creating a single perfect sphere of silver-white flame above his palm. "Five seems too... arbitrary. Seven has magical significance, but this isn't magic, is it? It's chi..."

The sphere cast no shadows as it rotated slowly, its light neither warm nor cold. Harry had spent many hours studying its properties, yet the deeper principles of chi were still not clear to him. Without that fundamental understanding, he could only continue experimenting, adding more spheres, hoping to stumble upon the right number through trial and error.

At least the practice served some practical purpose. Nicolas regularly called him down to the laboratory, where they'd discovered that multiple Albedo spheres could slowly purify physical objects, burning away impurities without damaging the essential substance. It had proven invaluable for both potions and alchemy work, particularly in the ongoing analysis of the Elixir of Life.

Even after months of study, Nicolas hadn't managed to replicate even the smallest effects of the Elixir. But as he had said while carefully decanting another failed attempt, "If something this perfect could be easily copied, it wouldn't be quite so precious, would it?"

Harry glanced at his potions journal, where he'd documented his Veritaserum brewing process. He and Nicolas had agreed - no Albedo phase assistance until he'd mastered each potion the traditional way. After all, perfection built upon perfection could only lead to greater heights...

Harry extinguished the silver-white flame sphere and stood up, moving to the center of his room where he'd cleared a practice space. Divine energy wasn't something to waste, but he'd learned the hard way that neglecting regular practice only made precise control harder when it really mattered.

"Sorry Charlotte," he murmured, knowing this would use up some of the faith he'd been gathering. But better to use a little now than fumble during their next healing session.

He closed his eyes, letting his Hun soul reach out to the well of collective faith. It felt different now than when he'd first discovered it - more like... paint waiting to be mixed into the right shade. His world-class painting talent had changed how he perceived it, just as it had transformed his approach to fire and lightning.

Golden light gathered around his hands as he began his exercise. First, the foundation - a simple circle drawn in mid-air with divine energy. The light hung there, neither dissipating nor falling, responding to his artistic intent just as fire and lightning did.

Harry added delicate strokes, watching how the divine energy flowed and merged. Where fire would blend hot and cold, and lightning would seek paths of least resistance, divine energy seemed to resonate with itself, each new line harmonizing with the ones before it.

A phoenix took shape in the air, formed entirely of golden light. Harry focused on the details - each feather a sharp stroke of divine energy, the wings spread in mid-flight, the tail trailing streams of light that shone like morning sun on water. It wasn't just an image; he could feel the praise and thanks placed into every line.

He'd tried capturing these divine paintings in Artisan's Crystals before, but as expected, the energy simply wouldn't transfer. These creations were ephemeral, lasting only as long as he maintained them. In a way, that made them more precious - each one unique, impossible to preserve except in memory.

The phoenix dissolved as Harry added more strokes, the divine energy reforming into a new shape - a tree growing from a single golden seed, branches spreading outward like reaching hands. Each leaf was a tiny exercise of control, requiring just the right touch to maintain its form without bleeding into the others.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. This level of precision with divine energy was exhausting, but he could feel his control improving. The tree's branches moved as if in a gentle breeze, each leaf turning to catch imaginary sunlight.

"Just... one more..." Harry whispered, letting the tree fade. He gathered the remaining divine energy into a final creation - a portrait of Charlotte, her scars gradually fading away.

The golden light flickered and died as his reserves ran low. Harry sat heavily in his desk chair, panting just a little bit. The exercise had used up more faith than he'd intended, but the improvement in his control was worth it. Next time he tried healing Charlotte's scars, he'd need every bit of that precision if he wanted to make quicker progress.

Besides… there was something fitting about using the Boy-Who-Lived's collected faith to create art. It felt more... honest somehow, than just storing it up like a battery. The faith came from people's hope and belief - shouldn't it create something beautiful before being used to heal?

A knock at his door interrupted Harry's thoughts. "Come in," he called, still catching his breath from the divine energy control exercise.

Perenelle entered, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of her special restorative tea. She took one look at him and shook her head fondly. "I saw the golden light from under your door. Practicing again?"

"I need to improve my control," Harry accepted the tea gratefully. The familiar blend of herbs - some of which he'd helped gather from their magical garden - immediately began restoring his energy. "Thank you, Aunt Nelle."

She sat in the window seat, petting Chrysa who had somehow sneaked in behind her. "You know, most children your age would be playing with toys or reading adventure stories."

"I do read adventure stories!" Harry protested loudly. "Just... usually while practicing flame control at the same time."

"Multitasking is not what I meant," Perenelle laughed at that answer. "Though speaking of stories - Nicolas wants to show you something in the library. Once you've finished your tea, of course."

Harry perked up. "What is it?"

"You'll see," she smiled mysteriously. "Though I will say it's related to the Exhibition. We thought you might want to see some examples of past entries before your private viewing next week."

Harry sipped his tea again. "Did either of you ever participate in the Exhibition?"

"Oh yes," Perenelle's eyes sparkled with memory. "Nicolas entered a rather spectacular piece in... oh, must have been 1723? The judges were quite impressed until it exploded."

"It exploded?" Harry nearly choked on his tea.

"Quite spectacularly," she confirmed with obvious amusement.

Harry set down his empty cup, feeling much more energetic. "What was he trying to make?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Perenelle stood, shooing Chrysa off the window seat. "He loves telling that story. Though his version gets more elaborate every century..."