"I think my soul left my body on day nine," I mumbled into the couch cushion.
Hermione didn't even glance up from her book. "You said that yesterday. And the day before that."
"Right, but this time it came back just to pack its bags."
Gabrielle giggled softly from the floor where she was braiding together strips of magical parchment. "You look like you got hexed by a sleepy curse."
"That's because I basically did," I muttered. "We've been using a Time-Turner so much I think even time got fed up with us."
Hermione looked up, frowning. "Time-Turner? What's that?"
I blinked. "You know, one of those spinny magical hourglass things that lets you go back in time?"
Her expression turned into wide-eyed horror. "Wait. That's a real thing? You've been playing with time? Like actual time? Are you mad?"
"Oh yeah. Nicholas loaned us one. Don't worry, we followed all the rules—except the ones we couldn't."
She stared at me.
"That was a joke," I said quickly. "We didn't run into our past selves or anything. We just created multiple rooms in my warehouse trunk. Did all our studying in parallel spaces, so no crossing timelines. No paradoxes."
Gabrielle looked mildly alarmed. "You made copies of the day?"
"Think of it like magical overtime," I said, collapsing back into the cushion.
The final morning in France had arrived. Though it had only been two weeks, it felt like at least two months had passed—thanks to aggressive, borderline illegal time-turner usage. Hermione and I had gone full academic gremlin, studying through nights, rewinding to repeat experiments, and looping lectures like magical Groundhog Day. Nicholas never seemed to tire. Perenelle brought snacks like she was fueling an Olympic event. Dan and Emma, wisely, stayed out of it.
Nicholas strolled into the room looking perfectly content. "How's everyone feeling this morning? Enlightened? Empowered? Chronologically stable?"
"Like a pastry that's been dunked in boiling tea," I croaked. "Flaky. Soggy. Questionably sweet."
He laughed. "Then you're ready. The Delacours are expecting us. Beauxbatons awaits."
Hermione's eyes lit up. Gabrielle bounced to her feet. I peeled myself off the couch like I was emerging from a decade-long nap. The final adventure was calling, and I had only one thought: don't steal anything sparkly.
Spoiler: I failed.
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The portkey spit us out in a fountain in what looks to be the courtyard of Beauxbatons Academy, and for a full ten seconds, despite being sopping wet, I forgot how to breathe.
The castle looked like it had been built by whoever designed fairytales. Towering spires shimmered with enchantments. Crystal archways sparkled under floating banners that danced in the wind without a single pole in sight. Wide marble paths wound through glowing gardens. A fountain shaped like a phoenix launched multicolored fire streams high into the air, and they exploded into soft flares that spelled out the school motto: "Savoir, Soin, Sorcellerie."
Dan squinted up at one floating bridge. "Is… is that walkway held up by music?"
"It is," Fleur confirmed, stepping beside us. "The wind orchestra is invisible, but quite punctual."
"I love it here," Hermione whispered.
"Same," Emma breathed, nudging Dan. "See? France was a great idea."
Nicholas Flamel nodded toward the open gates. Professors already waited near the entrance with curious smiles. A few whispered excitedly as they spotted him.
"They remember him?" I asked.
"Nicholas Flamel helped found the academy," Fleur said. "Even in retirement, he's legend here."
"He's been legend literally everywhere we've gone," I muttered. "I bet he invented wizard yogurt or something."
Fleur led the tour with all the pride of someone who actually grew up here—and possibly rearranged the layout with her mind. We passed under shimmering stained-glass arches and through open-air corridors where magical butterflies delivered notes between classrooms.
"Beauxbatons is split into three main divisions," Fleur explained. "Traditional school for ages eleven to seventeen, the university for advanced research and specialization, and the trade division for professional and practical magical work."
We stopped by an open-air amphitheater where students demonstrated spell-sculpting—literally bending raw magic into art. Across the way, others worked on enchanted prosthetics, crafting moving limbs out of gold-threaded bonewood.
"I want to take every class here," Hermione whispered. "Twice."
We passed workshops for broom design, magical agriculture, and even culinary enchantments. One student conjured a cake that sliced itself and floated to nearby judges.
Dan leaned over. "Can you imagine if Hogwarts let us study food magic?"
"No one would ever graduate," Emma replied.
My fingers twitched. The sparkle. The structure. The floating cutlery. I was starting to itch.
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The first thing to disappear was a crystal napkin holder.
It wasn't even that impressive. I just saw it, admired the way it caught the light—and suddenly, it was in my inventory.
Then came a chandelier. A whole chandelier. I hadn't meant to take it. My hand just twitched, and poof, it was gone. Fleur paused mid-sentence and frowned at the ceiling. I coughed and pointed in the opposite direction.
It only got worse. Sculptures. Nameplates. A lectern made from moonstone. At one point, I blinked and realized I'd absently stored an entire enchanted staircase balustrade.
Then came the dormitory.
We passed by one of the student housing halls—empty at the moment, its arched entry propped open for cleaning or possibly display. The hallway sparkled with magical lanterns, but all I saw were beds. Dozens of beds. Matching desks. Crystal-legged vanity mirrors. Side tables. Even the enchanted shoe racks. My fingers twitched. The room was unattended. And by the time we rounded the next corner, I'd stored everything but the floors and ceilings.
Cross that, even the crystal tile flooring was gone. The chandelier hanging from the center beam vanished mid-glint. It was like my inventory developed a taste for home décor and couldn't stop itself.
I told myself it was a rescue mission. Maybe the beds were tired. Maybe the wardrobes wanted to travel. Hermione was too busy talking to a history professor to notice. Gabrielle did, though. Her eyes got wider every time I twitched.
"Things keep disappearing," Gabrielle whispered, eyes darting around.
I gave the most innocent shrug I could manage. "This is a magical school. Things shift. Vanish. Reappear. Perfectly normal."
She glanced sideways at me. "That chandelier wasn't supposed to reappear somewhere else, was it?"
"Technically," I said, "it might still reappear. Eventually. Maybe. Magic is mysterious like that."
Nicholas, walking just a few steps behind us, pressed his hand against his forehead and muttered something into his palm. It looked a lot like a facepalm. A very long, slow, deeply resigned facepalm.
We passed by the school's famous oversized carriage—the same one the Beauxbatons students once rode to Hogwarts. It stood like a magical RV, parked near the main courtyard with golden inlays and diamond-encrusted reins.
I stared at it. It sparkled. I panicked.
Ten minutes later, the carriage was gone.
Hermione didn't say anything at first. Just narrowed her eyes and looked around like something wasn't quite right.
Fleur had turned to lead us back to the main gate when a pair of professors ran past us, shouting something in French about "high-priority mobility enchantments."
"Sky," Hermione said.
"Yes?"
"Did you—"
"I have never technically been caught."
Hermione dragged a hand down her face and let out a groan."That's not a no. Please tell me that carriage isn't in your trunk."
Nicholas slowed down and pressed his fingers to his temple like he could feel a headache forming from deep within his magical soul. Perenelle noticed immediately and gently touched his shoulder.
"Are you alright, love?"
"Fine," he said, though the word sounded like it had to climb over a mountain of internal screaming. "Just... processing."
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As we left the gates of Beauxbatons, the professors still hadn't figured out what had happened. There was talk of a "weather glitch" and "illusion displacement." I just kept my smile subtle and my eyes glazed over in bliss.
Hermione crossed her arms. "You look too happy. What did you do?"
"Me?" I said. "Nothing illegal. Probably."
Dan tilted his head and whispered to Emma. "He looks like someone who just inherited a vault."
I hummed a little tune and adjusted my sleeves.
As we prepared to return to the Château, Nicholas gave me one final glance. It wasn't annoyed. It wasn't surprised.
It was an expression of resignation.
He leaned in and whispered without looking at me, "You might as well apply to be the next magical Arsène Lupin."
And just like that, I knew I was going to miss France.