Aurelian felt the familiar pull of the Apparition, and in the blink of an eye, the bustle of the Leaky Cauldron was replaced by a spacious, well-lit room with vaulted ceilings and walls covered in magical stone mosaics that reflected light as if they were liquid mirrors.
They were in the main hall of the French Ministry of Magic.
The air smelled of fresh leaves and parchment, candle wax, and a light floral fragrance that floated in the air thanks to aromatic charms. The place was full of wizards and witches coming and going, most dressed in elegant robes in dark tones and gold embroidery.
In the background, a huge tapestry displayed the emblem of French magic: a wand crossed with a foil, surrounded by a silver dragon. Several enchanted statues moved slowly, guarding the side entrances.
Flitwick adjusted his robe and smiled with the calmness of someone who had been there many times before.
"Welcome to France, Aurelian. This is the French Ministry of Magic, headquarters in Paris. Before we can settle in, we must register our papers. Security here is strict, especially during tournament season."
They walked across the marble floor, its surface with light golden tones seemed to move slowly as if it were alive. As they advanced, Aurelian observed the details with curiosity: the signs that updated themselves, the flying messengers in the form of small rays of light, as well as the wizards and witches who managed endless documents.
They arrived at a counter manned by a tall witch with her hair pulled back in a perfect bun, with a floating pen taking notes on its own.
"Papiers, s'il vous plaît," the woman asked with a marked French accent.
Flitwick handed over a bundle of documents and an official medallion bearing the Hogwarts crest. The witch checked them carefully before fixing her gaze on Aurelian.
"Vous êtes très jeune pour ce tournoi..." she commented, then switched to English. "You are very young, but you have the look of someone who is determined."
Aurelian gave his a barely perceptible smile.
"Let's just say I like to be prepared."
After a few minutes and several magical seals that glowed briefly on the papers, the witch returned the documents to them.
"All right, Mr. Flitwick, Mr. Gaunt. You are now officially registered in the country for the tournament."
As they stepped away from the counter, Flitwick motioned for him to follow him to a side area where several transport chimneys were in use.
"We have a week before the tournament officially begins," the professor explained as they walked. "We'll use it to familiarize you with the country, practice, and adapt to the local rules. Believe me, training at Hogwarts is not the same as training here."
Aurelian nodded, his eyes still scanning the surroundings. In his mind, he was already analyzing how he would use those days not only to prepare for the tournament, but also to observe and learn as much as possible about the level of the wizards who would be coming from other countries.
Flitwick and Aurelian approached one of the Ministry's fireplaces, which glowed with an intense green fire. The professor spoke clearly:
"Village des Duellistes"
The world spun around him, and in a matter of seconds, Aurelian emerged on the other side in a large reception hall, with walls covered in dark wood and crystal lamps floating gently in the air.
The villa was located in a secluded area, protected by multiple layers of enchantments. From the main entrance, you could see extensive magical gardens, with fountains whose waters formed figures of dueling wizards in motion, representing historical battles that repeated themselves over and over again as if they were memories engraved in stone.
"This place was built over a century ago to house competitors in international tournaments held in France," explained Flitwick as they walked toward the reception area. "Here you will have everything you need: a private dueling room, a specialized library, and above all... peace to concentrate."
A young-looking witch, wearing a burgundy robe and a pendant with the village symbol, approached with a professional smile.
"Welcome, Professor Flitwick and Mr. Gaunt. Your rooms are ready. The dining room opens at 8 a.m., 1 p.m., and 8 p.m., but you can order room service at any time."
Aurelian nodded, watching as behind the receptionist a large floating board displayed the names of the dueling guests, organized by country. Although the tournament was still a week away, there were already names registered from India, Japan, Brazil, and the United States.
Flitwick motioned for him to follow him to the north wing. The hallway was carpeted in shades of blue with silver accents, and portraits of former champions hung on the walls. Some looked at him curiously, others greeted him politely, and a few simply continued talking among themselves as if he didn't exist.
Aurelian's room was spacious, with a bed covered by a dark velvet canopy, an oak desk, and a window overlooking the gardens. On the table was a parchment with the tournament rules and a map of the village.
"We'll rest today," Flitwick told him. "Tomorrow morning we'll start training according to French rules. But before that, I want you to observe the practice areas so you can familiarize yourself with them."
Aurelian put his briefcase on the bed. Before answering, he looked out the window. From there, he could see a couple of young people practicing long-distance projection spells, their wands drawing flashes in the air.
"Understood, Professor. But don't worry, I don't plan on wasting this week."
Flitwick smiled, satisfied, and left the room.
Alone, Aurelian took off his robe and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The air was different from England's, softer, but also charged with magic, as if the city itself vibrated with centuries of history.
He couldn't help wondering how many of those names on the board would be worthy rivals... and how many would be mere obstacles on his path to victory.
The next morning, Aurelian arrived at the main dueling field, a circular area bordered by columns that emitted a faint blue light. In the center, the stone floor was engraved with runes that reinforced spells and neutralized serious damage.
Flitwick was already waiting for him, dressed in a light gray robe and with his wand in hand. Despite his short stature and friendly appearance, his posture made it clear that he was still a very experienced duelist.
"Well, Aurelian, today we're going to work on three essential aspects: reaction speed, accuracy, and magic expenditure control." He smiled at him. "I want you to be in the best possible shape for the tournament, and that means I'm going to demand more from you than usual."
Aurelian nodded without hesitation.
"I expected nothing less."
The training began with reflex exercises. Flitwick conjured energy projectiles at different speeds and angles, while Aurelian had to deflect them with shields, redirect them, or counter them with equivalent spells. The attacks were not simple "Expelliarmus" or "Stupefy"; Flitwick varied between unusual spells, some with unpredictable trajectories.
"Faster, Aurelian! Don't wait to see the spell to react, anticipate it!" Flitwick shouted as he cast three spells in quick succession.
Aurelian spun around, deflecting two of them and blocking the third with a shield. The impact echoed like miniature thunder.
Then they moved on to the precision phase. Flitwick conjured a dozen orbs, each constantly changing color.
"Your goal: hit only the orbs that are red. If you touch a blue one, you lose points. Remember, it's not a matter of destroying them with force, but with a minimum of magical expenditure."
Aurelian raised his wand, concentrating. He moved his wrist, calculating his movements, casting fine, rapid spells. The air was filled with flashes and clicks. When he finished, eleven orbs had disappeared; only one remained floating, flashing red.
"Very good," said Flitwick, examining the result. "Although in a real situation, that last orb could cost you the duel. Tomorrow we'll work on your target closure."
The last part of the training was the most intense. Flitwick and Aurelian faced each other directly, with no restrictions on basic spells. It was a controlled duel, but not a gentle one. Flitwick moved with catlike speed, taking advantage of every gap in Aurelian's defense to pressure him.
At one point, a particularly fast spell grazed his shoulder, triggering his Infinity technique. The space around Aurelian vibrated with a faint aura, and the spell deflected gently as if it had bounced off an invisible barrier.
Flitwick tilted his head, curious.
"That spell always interests me."
Aurelian simply smiled.
The duel continued until both agreed to a truce, breathing heavily but with satisfied expressions on their faces.
"Good start, Aurelian," said Flitwick, putting away his wand. "Tomorrow we'll up the difficulty. If you think this was hard... get ready."
Aurelian accompanied him off the field, feeling that satisfying tiredness that only came when he really put himself to the test.
After a quick shower and a light lunch in the villa's dining room, Aurelian decided to take a stroll through the gardens. The afternoon sun bathed the fountains and statues in warm light, and there was a scent of flowers in the air that he had never smelled before, some of them emitting a faint glow.
Near the main practice area, several young duelists were training under the supervision of their instructors. Some waved their wands nervously, making basic mistakes, while others showed some skill, but still nothing that impressed Aurelian. He watched as a Bulgarian boy failed three times in a row to cast a disarming spell on a Japanese witch, who barely moved to dodge it.
"Are these my rivals?" he thought, feeling a slight disappointment.
Further away, a group of competitors from Brazil practiced in a circle, but their movements were predictable, lacking the precision that Flitwick demanded in his training sessions. There was talent, yes, but nothing that seemed like a real challenge to him.
He leaned on a stone railing, looking up at the sky as an idea began to form in his mind.
"Professor," he muttered to himself, "is this really just a simple youth tournament... or is there something more behind it?"
He remembered the professor's words and glances, the way he weighed each answer and probed his abilities. It wasn't the kind of training given to a wizard of his age just to win a trophy.
A light breeze ruffled his hair as he stepped away from the railing. Perhaps the true purpose was not yet clear, but Aurelian sensed that when it came, it would be much greater than any duel in France.
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