There's plenty written about Beauxbatons in public sources, but almost nothing about its exact location. Apolline would go on and on about the castle's breathtaking beauty — how it stands on a cliff, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and meadows, with the endless sea stretching out in the distance. She described feasts accompanied by a choir of nymphs, ice sculptures shimmering with every color of the rainbow, and vases overflowing with magnificent flowers in the corridors.
In other words, pure emotion.
Patrick, as always, was more reserved. He only mentioned that there were too many scents for his liking — a side effect of his furry problem — and that the ostentation and luxury felt foreign to him. Still, both of them told me about the peculiarities of the school, which were also described in the colorful brochure that came with my acceptance letter.
What's interesting is that, unlike Muggle-borns and pure-bloods, magical beings have to send applications for admission in advance. The ancient artifact that automatically sends invitations to awakened young wizards — created about seven hundred years ago — simply doesn't invite us. Back then, attitudes toward magical races were even worse than they are now in England.
From everything I'd gathered — brochures, books, stories from friends, and from Jacqueline, who graduated from Beauxbatons herself — I pieced together the basics. Basic education lasts six years, advanced — eight.
Unlike Hogwarts, with its four houses named after the founders (a division that never made much sense to me, given the identical curriculum), or Durmstrang, where there are combat and general faculties (the former accessible only through money or top grades, since they teach charms forbidden in many countries), Beauxbatons essentially has no faculties.
Instead, there's a strict division by age and gender. Girls live in the right wing of the castle, boys in the left, and the same goes for teachers. Boys are forbidden from entering the girls' wing, and vice versa.
Age division is by floor: first years on the first floor, second years on the second, and so on up to the eighth. The idea was to keep children focused on studying, not romance, and to shield them from the "corrupting influence" of older students.
Of course, it all worked out the opposite way. Forbidden fruit is always sweeter, and every year, the number of students trying to sneak into the other wing doesn't decrease. They get caught and punished, but it doesn't stop them — especially the boys.
Since there are no houses, competition is between students themselves. You can earn points for good grades, helping the school, or athletic achievements, and lose them for misconduct.
And let me tell you, these points aren't just for show. You can use them to rent a private room for a year or until graduation — otherwise, you're assigned a shared room for three. You can order special menus for meals, get passes to restricted library sections, or permission for free attendance. There are plenty of options.
Muggle-born students are attracted by the possibility of scholarships and free education. I don't know about other schools, but at Beauxbatons, you have to pay if your average grade after the annual exam is negative.
The system works like this: positive grades — O (Outstanding) adds three points, E (Exceeds Expectations) two, A (Acceptable) one. Negative grades — P (Poor), D (Dreadful), and T (Troll) — subtract one, two, and three points respectively.
No one forces a struggling student or their parents to pay immediately; you can pay later, after graduation. The cost of one course is 1,200 galleons, so everyone either tries to study well or goes to the cheaper Hogwarts, which is sponsored by the pure-blood board of trustees and the Ministry of Magic, where they rule the roost.
But don't think the three main schools of Europe accept just anyone — you need a certain level of magical power for the artifact to notice you at all. That's just how it is.
One more fact that isn't openly discussed: yes, you can get a basic education, but unless you open your own business or have special talents, you won't get far in the magical world. Almost all government and private enterprises require certain grades in various subjects.
Aurors — the magical world's police — need excellent grades in combat magic and potions. Healers need top marks in potions, herbology, and charms, and so on. And if you want to master a school of magic, six courses won't even get you a look — unless, of course, someone influential like Flamel recommends you.
So, just like in the ordinary world, life is the earth and education is the parachute — the later you open it, the harder you'll hit the ground, if you don't get completely flattened.
There's also plenty written about the history of this remarkable castle.
Hogwarts was founded around the 10th or 11th century by four of the strongest wizards of the British Isles — Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff. At first, the castle was a defensive structure, but when the founders began recruiting students, it became a school. Especially once education became systematic. According to legend, the founders themselves taught Merlin.
In the 14th century, the Hundred Years' War began, but tensions between France and England had been rising long before that, both in the ordinary and magical worlds. Muggle-borns brought their own enmities and prejudices with them.
French wizards couldn't tolerate England's dominance in magical education and built their own school — Beauxbatons. Among its first students were the legendary creator of the Philosopher's Stone and elixir of immortality, Nicolas Flamel, and his wife Perenelle, who later sponsored the development and decoration of their alma mater.
In 1294, the first Triwizard Tournament was held, initiated by Hogwarts to put the upstarts from the newly formed French school and Bulgarian Durmstrang in their place. From that moment, the rivalry between the three schools began, each with its own specialty.
Durmstrang — dark and combat magic. Beauxbatons — illusions and alchemy. Hogwarts — universal, thanks to its rich library and donations from generations of students.
Time passed, and as Muggle-borns caused more and more problems with their religiosity and attempts to change the magical world, the Statute of Secrecy was adopted in 1692 at the Summit of the International Confederation of Wizards — the magical world's equivalent of the UN.
No, it wasn't because of the Inquisition, as they scare children with. An ordinary person simply can't see a wizard if the wizard doesn't want to be seen. Pure-bloods were afraid of losing their power and influence, so they isolated and divided the two worlds.
A massive ritual erased all evidence and mentions of magic and wizards, and since then, all wizards strictly observe the Statute and destroy any evidence of their existence.
But it's not all the pure-bloods' fault. Muggle-borns also tried to change the world without considering the consequences. Not all dark lords and maniacs were pure-bloods — on the contrary, most were commoners, half-bloods.
They didn't understand that you shouldn't meddle where you're not wanted, or try to change someone else's world by force. So they share the blame for the current situation.
And then, as always, an isolated society begins to rot if it has no common enemy or goal. Old families could maintain standards thanks to accumulated knowledge and power, but the rest began to slide into ignorance.
That's why the Department of Mysteries was founded — to preserve and multiply magical knowledge. They're a semi-religious order, really, and don't care what dark lords walk the earth, as long as no one burns books.
Over time, pure-bloods still lost power, and began to limit Muggle-borns' education. They taught their own children separately, in secret knowledge, and passed laws to reduce the number of disciplines available to the public. Textbooks got thicker, but with more and more filler.
The funniest thing is that many "new" discoveries are just attempts to reinvent the wheel — these things were already known, but the knowledge was hidden. Still, progress is stubborn, and if one thing is forbidden, people focus on another — hence the explosion of household charms.
There are exceptions — the USA never had ancient folios, and in China, Muggle-borns can't count on anything unless they join a clan. What looks like degradation is actually the result of policies that benefit a select few.
That's why Muggle-borns are taken from their families at eleven and educated in the magical world with full boarding, so they grow up in the magical world and don't try to "reform" it later. Those who refuse are simply deprived of magic and have their memories erased — their awakened nous forcibly blocked.
I figured all this out over years of reading, analysis, and observation. Wizards don't speak or write about it openly — those who are smart will figure it out, and for those who aren't, such knowledge would only be harmful.
By the way, from 1800, the history of French magic diverges sharply from England. The Great Revolution affected not only the ordinary world: veela, goblins, centaurs, werewolves, and vampires all rebelled for independence. The vampires mostly just caused chaos and drank blood with impunity, for which they were expelled from the alliance.
If similar uprisings in England were crushed with great bloodshed, in France, magical beings had the numbers and managed to win rights for themselves. After that, veela, werewolves, goblins, and centaurs could study at Beauxbatons, as well as half-bloods of other magical races.
True, goblins and centaurs, because of their social structures, are still educated in their own clans and herds, so you won't see them in schools.
All this means that, for me, school is more about the diploma and the checkmark, if we're talking about the education itself. But if you consider the library — which, though not quite as good as the other two schools, is close — and the chance to make connections and build a reputation, it's a different story.
These and many other thoughts wandered through my head as the six of us walked to the checkpoint: me, Apolline, Patrick, and our single parents. Though, judging by Alain's predatory look at Jacqueline — and the fact that she didn't seem to mind — maybe someone would soon have a complete family. Or maybe not. Life is unpredictable.
***
[September 1, 1971]
"Son, did you take everything?" Ariel asked. Woman, that's the wrong question. It's easier to list what I didn't take.
"Of course, Mom, don't worry," I replied, trying to be a good son and not say what I was really thinking.
"Behave at school, if anyone bullies you — tell the teachers right away. Eat well. And if…" It seemed her mother-hen mode had activated, and we weren't even saying goodbye yet — today was open house. Jacqueline and Alain were chuckling, forgetting that they themselves were shaking like leaves and didn't want to let their children go.
"You'd be the one to hurt him," Patrick grumbled, rubbing his arm, which I'd knocked out of its socket yesterday. Honestly, now I was more training the werewolf than he was training me, as it used to be. I surpassed him so much in speed and strength that it was no longer interesting. And if I used all my enhancements, including the blessing magic, I turned into a "one-punch man."
"He'll hurt whoever he wants."
"And I'm afraid for our school. In fire magic, he's far surpassed me — I just hope there's something left of it," Apolline complained. Well, she shouldn't have bragged about her coconut-sized fireball! I couldn't help myself and made a sphere a meter in radius. Even as an adult, it's nice to show off sometimes.
"But in wand magic, you surpassed him — everyone has their strengths." At Jacqueline's words, Patrick and Apolline said nothing, but their faces said it all. Whose fault is it they don't practice magic diligently? While you sleep, your friend trains.
"Oh, here's our mischievous trio! Looks like Beauxbatons will tremble at your arrival," the smiling veela at the checkpoint greeted us, her gloomy partner at her side. You'd never guess they were husband and wife, and I was shocked when I found out.
"What are you saying about us? Will you keep bringing up the destroyed wall? It was just flimsy." Yes, that wall we used as a target once couldn't withstand our abuse.
"Yes, yes, flimsy," Apolline nodded, "three meters of solid granite, enchanted by a master artifactor."
What master? I'll do better. Though we got in trouble, no one was offended or asked for compensation. The master himself came and wondered how three kids — Patrick joined us, casting charms from his wand — managed to demolish his work. Since it was a blow to his reputation, he fixed it for free, and after that, we started training in different places. Sowing chaos and destruction.
"See! I'm telling you, flimsy. I hope Beauxbatons is sturdier!" I got a slap from behind, which I dodged.
"Hey, what was that for?!"
"Why are you dodging?" Jacqueline exclaimed.
"And why are you hitting? Ah, I get it, you're missing a man, so now you're after me. I'm beautiful, of course, but I'm not interested in old ladies," I nodded, as if I understood everything.
"What did you say? I'm an old lady?" she raged, bird features starting to show.
"So you agree with the part about missing a man and being interested in me?" I teased. I love winding her up.
"You little brat! Don't you dare dodge when I want to kill you!" Jacqueline shouted after me, but she'd never catch me.
"Help! Guard lady, this is an attempt on a child! Save me!" I ran off, everyone else laughing.
***
— Patrick's POV —
I watched my cheerful friend and marveled at how multifaceted he could be. When wizards attacked me almost six years ago, I was scared out of my mind, and that saved my life. Even a cornered rat can kill a cat — that's what happened to me.
Tied up, I used my cursed werewolf strength to break free and bit through the bastard's throat. The disgustingly sweet taste of human blood still makes me shudder. Not because it was disgusting — on the contrary, my second nature was delighted and wanted more, which was scarier than revulsion.
The second wizard, seeing I'd killed the first, didn't waste time and started throwing combat spells, smashing trees to splinters. Instinctively, I ran in a broken line, and my low height saved me — I didn't take a single direct hit to a vital organ.
But there were many wounds, too many for my regeneration to handle, and weakening, I ran wherever I could. My consciousness faded, and I walked and walked, feeling my hands and feet grow cold — I'd lost too much blood, though I didn't understand that then. I didn't understand anything, driven only by the desire to survive.
At some point, I caught a light, almost weightless scent of cinnamon — veela. Magical beings smell different to werewolves: centaurs like horse musk, werewolves like dog, and veela for some reason like cinnamon. This doesn't depend on washing — only special charms or potions can mask it, and only temporarily.
I kept going, falling unconscious, coming to, getting up again. The last kilometer I crawled. Left hand, right hand, left, right… But I couldn't make it the last couple hundred meters. In desperation, I called for help and blacked out.
I would have died if Arthur hadn't heard me. I thought for a long time about how he managed that. I called quietly, there were two hundred meters to the wall, which would muffle sound, and more distance to Arthur. He always joked about it, saying I stank of dog for the whole area. But even if so, what is he, a werewolf? No, he's a veela.
Veela… at first, this confused me. How can someone smell like both a guy and a veela? Especially since my beast instincts sensed a predatory bird inside him. No, it wasn't easy to figure out — at first, I really thought he was a girl. I lied a bit to Apolline, saying I knew from the start.
But the more I learned about him, the more amazed I was. And the fact that he's possibly the only male veela in the world — that's not even the strangest thing.
Take his skills — he amazed me from the start with his strength, his movements, his speed — and this without transforming into a half-bird. By the way, I've never seen him transform. He always tried to fight with his own strength and used his wand rarely in sparring.
Apolline said his fire skills surpass hers, and she trained only in that to catch up. And even that isn't the strangest thing, just like the fact that he surpassed both of us combined in everything.
The strangest thing is his behavior. When he's cheerful, he acts like a child, sometimes even too theatrically, as if overplaying his role. When he's serious, I see not a boy three years younger than me, but my father.
What can I say? I recognized him as leader without hesitation, which is rare for werewolves — we only submit to the strong. And magical or physical strength isn't the point — it's willpower, leadership.
True, he often annoys us and everyone around with his condescending look, the way you look at foolish children. And you can see it's not on purpose — it's just part of who he is. Because he never puts anyone down just for the sake of it. If we do something stupid, he'll say so and show us where we went wrong. Not because he's the boss, but because you can tell we matter to him.
I decided long ago I'll stay by his side until he banishes me himself. He became my leader, rival, friend. Thanks to him, I already surpass almost all my werewolf peers, even those several years older. He manages to spur me and Apolline to develop just by existing.
And he never lectured us about self-improvement, no. He called us to train, beat the laziness out of us, and showed how much he'd advanced while we were slacking. Even his speeches, half of which we might not understand, made us study and read more to keep up.
When he came to me and asked me to test a bracelet for werewolves, I was stunned. Did he really make this for me? And considering the second bracelet was an aura blocker for veela, that's exactly what it was.
Now I realize something else I hadn't noticed before. Who did he test the bracelets on before? Maybe he gave the veela one to his mother or tested it himself. But what about the werewolf bracelet? It's powerful enough that an ordinary wizard would fall into eternal sleep from respiratory paralysis.
And honestly, I don't want to ask. Some secrets should stay secrets. The main problem was power adjustment, and as Arthur told me, he had to make a self-adjusting artifact that acts stronger the more the werewolf tries to break free. We're all different in strength and magical resistance.
There are werewolves from both wizards and ordinary people, and there had to be different approaches. Only when everyone in our clan had tried the bracelets, fixed the flaws, and there were no problems after three full moons, did Arthur and his mom release it to market.
Few talked about it, but many werewolves bought two, three, or even ten bracelets. Not out of need, but because someone had finally done something for werewolves, thought about us, and really helped.
Need I say that the already good relations between werewolves and veela improved? And all this was done by one boy and his mom. Then I understood one of his phrases: "Small deeds can lead to great consequences."
— End Patrick's POV —
***
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