Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of A Nundu for A Pet.
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Chapter 31 (Abyssantica), Chapter 32 (The Half-Human Princess), Chapter 33 (Echoes from the Deep), Chapter 34 (Crystal's Song of Ice), Chapter 35 (Song of Ice and Water), Chapter 36 (The Wardstone's Song), Chapter 37 (The Boy Who Saved), Chapter 38 (A Ball and A Veela), Chapter 39 (Teacups and Homecomings), Chapter 40 (Golden Eyes in the Darkness), Chapter 41 (The Twelfth Summer), and Chapter 42 (A Warning from An Elf) are already available for Patrons.
The late morning sun cast long shadows through the enchanted windows of Versailles, where a section of the palace that Muggles believed was "closed for renovation" housed the French Ministry of Magic. Unlike its British counterpart, which hid behind the mundane facade of a telephone booth, the French magical government embraced grandeur with the same enthusiasm that its people embraced three-hour lunch breaks.
Harry stood beside Newt in what appeared to be an entrance hall that would have made Louis XIV himself pause to admire the decor. Crystal chandeliers floated without support, their lights dancing like captured stars. The marble floor was inlaid with patterns that shifted constantly, forming elaborate designs that told different stories depending on where you stood. Magical fountains performed synchronized water ballets while playing what Harry recognized as Debussy's Clair de Lune.
"Bit much, isn't it?" Harry muttered to Newt, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag. He'd changed into his best robes for this meeting – dark green with silver trim that Andromeda had insisted brought out his eyes. Next to him, Newt looked comfortable in his well-worn blue coat, apparently immune to the grandeur around them.
"Oh, this is nothing," Newt replied cheerfully, ducking as a paper airplane memo performed an elaborate aerial maneuver overhead. "You should see it during Bastille Day. The statues organize their own revolution. Quite exciting, really, though they did have to ban them from using actual guillotines after the incident of 1954."
In Newt's special briefcase, Harry could feel Itisa's amusement at the opulence around them. They'd had to leave her in there for security reasons, though Harry suspected she was rather enjoying the break from pretending to be a normal cat. He could almost hear her sarcastic commentary about humans and their need for excessive decoration.
A witch in golden robes approached them, her heels clicking precisely on the marble floor. Her badge identified her as "Madame Rosier, Senior Administrative Assistant to the Minister."
"Monsieur Scamander, Monsieur Potter," she greeted them with perfect pronunciation. "The Minister is expecting you. Please, follow me."
As they followed Madame Rosier through the corridors, Harry found himself comparing the French Ministry to its British counterpart. Where the London Ministry felt utilitarian despite its magic, the French magical government embraced an entirely different philosophy. Here, even the smallest magical conveniences were transformed into artistic statements.
They passed what appeared to be a permits office, where quills danced across parchment in elegant cursive while their writers sipped coffee and engaged in passionate debates about magical theory. The scrolls, once completed, folded themselves into intricate origami birds before flying to their destinations. Harry noticed that even their interdepartmental memos had style – instead of simple paper airplanes, they took the form of shimmering butterflies that left trails of golden light in their wake.
"The French magical community has always believed that magic should be beautiful as well as practical," Newt explained, noticing Harry's interest. "They say Beauxbatons was designed by wizards who thought Hogwarts needed more... what do they call it? Ah yes, 'aesthetic sophistication.'"
Harry watched as a group of officials passed by, their robes color-coordinated not just with each other but with the magical paintings they walked past. "I'm starting to understand why Sebastian is always going on about proper fashion choices."
A painting of a medieval French wizard interrupted his heated debate about revolutionary philosophy to comment, "Ah, ze young Anglais understands! Style is not vanity, it is civilization!"
The French approach to magic seemed to extend beyond mere appearances. They passed a research department where wizards and witches worked on enchanting music into spells, their wands conducting invisible orchestras as they developed new charms. In another room, labeled "Le Département des Innovations Magiques," researchers appeared to be combining traditional wandwork with what looked suspiciously like Muggle ballet movements.
"They're quite innovative, actually," Newt commented. "Did you know French wizards developed a way to incorporate magical properties into their cooking? There's a restaurant in Paris where the food literally evokes memories related to its ingredients. Though they had to add warnings after someone's bouillabaisse caused an entire dinner party to temporarily believe they were merpeople..."
Harry's thoughts drifted to his own magical innovations – the talismans he'd developed. He wondered how the French would approach such devices. Would they find ways to make them more elegant? More artistic? Perhaps there was something to be learned from their philosophy of combining beauty with functionality.
A group of young witches hurried past, their arms full of what appeared to be singing flowers. One of them was scolding the flowers in rapid French for being off-key. Harry caught fragments of conversation from various offices they passed:
"Non, non! Ze transfiguration must flow like poetry!"
"Ze new regulation on carpet flying needs more... élan!"
"Someone tell Jean-Pierre that his experimental cheese enchantments are becoming sentient again!"
It was both familiar and entirely foreign – magic as Harry knew it, but approached from a completely different cultural perspective. Even their security measures had flair. The magical detection gates they passed through released a shower of golden sparkles that arranged themselves into a brief welcome message before dissipating.
They walked through corridors that seemed to be competing for attention. One was lined with moving portraits of famous French wizards and witches, all of whom appeared to be involved in passionate debates about philosophy or fashion – sometimes both simultaneously. Another featured windows that showed different magical locations around France, from the peaks of the Pyrenees to the lavender fields of Provence.
"The French Ministry was established here in 1789," Newt explained as they walked. "Rather ironically, during the Muggle French Revolution. The magical community decided that while the Muggles were busy overthrowing their monarchy, it was the perfect time to acquire some prime real estate."
Harry noticed that the other Ministry workers they passed wore robes that, while clearly expensive, seemed designed to complement rather than compete with the palace's grandeur. The overall effect was like a carefully choreographed dance of colors and styles.
"Minister Delacour will see you now," Madame Rosier announced, stopping before a set of doors that appeared to be made of mother-of-pearl. They swung open silently, revealing an office that managed to be both elegant and distinctly nautical.
The walls were enchanted to show underwater scenes, complete with various magical marine life swimming past. The ceiling rippled like the surface of water viewed from below, and the furniture seemed to be crafted from coral and driftwood that had somehow been convinced to grow into elegant shapes. A massive desk dominated one end of the room, its surface looking like a slice of preserved wave caught at the perfect moment.
Minister Victorien Delacour rose from behind his desk with grace that seemed common to all French officials. He was a tall, distinguished-looking wizard with silver-streaked dark hair and handsome features. His robes shifted between different shades of blue like deep ocean currents, and his presence carried the quiet authority of someone who never needed to raise their voice to be heard.
"Ah, Monsieur Scamander," he said warmly, his accent much lighter than Madame Rosier's had been. "It 'as been far too long. Ze last time you were 'ere, I believe you were tracking zose fascinating luminescent creatures?"
"The Glowfish migration, yes," Newt smiled, shaking the Minister's hand. "Though I still maintain that incident with the wine fountain was entirely their fault. They have a surprising appreciation for aged Bordeaux."
Delacour's lips twitched. "Indeed. And zis must be young Monsieur Potter." He turned to Harry, his keen eyes taking in everything from Harry's carefully chosen robes to his composed demeanor. "I 'ave heard quite interesting things about your... innovations. Ze British Ministry speaks very highly of your talisman work."
"All good things, I hope," Harry replied with a polite smile. "Though possibly not about any fountain-related incidents? I'm trying to avoid following too closely in Newt's footsteps there."
The Minister's eyes twinkled. "I see Newt's influence is already showing, though perhaps with more... 'ow do you say... diplomatic awareness?" He gestured to a seating area near one of the enchanted walls. "Please, be seated. We 'ave much to discuss."
The chairs they sat in were surprisingly comfortable for furniture made of coral. A tea service floated over – though Harry noticed the cups contained what appeared to be espresso rather than tea. The cups themselves were delicate porcelain painted with scenes of magical sea life that moved around the rim.
"I trust your arrival was smooth?" Delacour asked as they settled. "No issues with ze customs?"
"Madame Dubois was very efficient," Newt said diplomatically. "Though she did seem rather concerned about my research equipment."
"Ah, yes. She 'as not forgotten ze incident with ze luminescent slugs." The Minister's expression grew more serious. "But we are not 'ere to discuss past... adventures. We face a more pressing situation."
"The Royal Sea Horses' desire for independence?" Harry ventured, noting how the Minister's expression tightened slightly.
"You are well-informed," Delacour said approvingly. "Though ze situation is more complex than simple politics." He set his espresso cup down with precise movement. "Tell me, what do you know of Aqualis?"
From Newt's briefcase came a sound so faint only Harry noticed it – Itisa's equivalent of an intrigued purr. Whatever Aqualis was, it had caught the Nundu's attention.
"Only rumors," Newt said carefully. "A substance of remarkable magical properties, found only in Royal Sea Horse territory. Though the exact details are..." he glanced at Harry, "not widely known."
"There is good reason for such secrecy," Delacour said, waving his wand. The underwater scenes on the walls shifted, focusing on what appeared to be an elaborate underwater city. Structures of living coral rose like gothic spires, connected by streams of enchanted currents that served as roads. Royal Sea Horses moved through these current-streets with perfect grace, their forms far more majestic than their mundane cousins.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" The Minister's voice held genuine admiration. "Atlantéan architecture, adapted over centuries. Ze Royal Sea Horses took what remained of ze sunken city and created something entirely new."
Harry leaned forward, fascinated by the complex dance of light and movement in the underwater city. "Is that their capital?"
"Oui. Profondeur Royale – ze Royal Deep. For centuries, it 'as been ze center of our maritime alliance." Delacour's expression darkened slightly. "And ze only known source of Aqualis."
"Minister," Harry said, choosing his words carefully, "what exactly is Aqualis? I understand the need for secrecy, but if we're to help..."
Delacour exchanged a long look with Newt before nodding slowly. He opened an ornate cabinet behind his desk and withdrew what appeared to be a crystal vial filled with something that wasn't quite liquid and wasn't quite light. It flowed like liquid moonlight, but occasional sparks of deeper color swirled within it, like a galaxy in miniature.
"Zis," he said solemnly, "is Aqualis. Or rather, a very small sample of it."
Even from several feet away, Harry could feel the magic emanating from the vial. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before – ancient and deep, like the ocean itself had been distilled into pure magical essence.
"It forms naturally in ze deepest trenches of zeir territory," Delacour continued. "Though ze exact process remains zeir most guarded secret. What we do know is that its properties are... remarkable."
"Healing properties, primarily," Newt added, his eyes fixed on the swirling substance. "Though there have been theories about other applications. Time magic, protective enchantments, even..."
"Even ze ability to enhance other magical substances," Delacour finished. "Which is precisely why its control must remain secure."
From the briefcase, Harry felt rather than heard Itisa's reaction – a sudden alertness that suggested this was more significant than they'd initially thought.
"The problems started two months ago. Shipments have gone missing." The minister said regretfully.
"Missing?!" Newt said, and for the first time since Harry had met him, he sounded deeply concerned.
"Three shipments in ze past month alone." Delacour carefully returned the vial to its cabinet. "Ze Royal Sea Horse Military Corps are among ze finest warriors in ze magical world. For something to overwhelm them..."
"It would take considerable power," Newt mused. "And extensive knowledge of underwater magic. The Corps are trained to handle everything from rogue Leviathans to deep-sea magical storms."
Harry noticed something in the Minister's expression – a flicker of what might have been fear. "You have a theory about who's behind it."
It wasn't a question.
Delacour moved to one of the enchanted walls, watching a group of Sea Horse warriors perform what appeared to be a training exercise. Their movements were precisely coordinated, streams of magical energy flowing between them like synchronized lightning underwater.
"There are... whispers," he said finally. "Reports from ze deep places. Strange magic. Creatures behaving unusually. And now..." He turned back to them, his expression grave. "Now ze Royal Sea Horses wish to break centuries of alliance, taking ze source of Aqualis with them. Ze timing is... troubling."
"Minister," Newt said carefully, glancing at Harry, "what exactly are you asking of us? Officially, we're here for magical creature research."
"And officially, zat is exactly what you will be doing," Delacour replied with a slight smile. "Your reputation, Monsieur Scamander, makes for perfect cover. Who would question you studying ze magical creatures of our waters? And your young apprentice..." He studied Harry thoughtfully. "Ze Boy-Who-Lived, now known for innovative magical devices, showing interest in magical creatures? Most natural."
Harry kept his expression neutral, though internally he was amused. If only they knew just how much experience he had with magical creatures. Between a Nundu companion and a Thunder Bird disguised as an owl, he was practically running his own magical menagerie.
"And unofficially?" Harry asked.
"Unofficially, we need to understand what is truly happening with ze Royal Sea Horses. Why zey suddenly wish to leave, after centuries of alliance. And these missing shipments..." Delacour shook his head. "Something is wrong. We can feel it in ze waters."
Newt leaned forward slightly. "The Sea Horses are proud creatures, Minister. They won't appreciate being studied or investigated."
"I understand that, for quite a few months, they don't appear as welcoming as they used to, but you Monsieur Newt. You are still friends with previous King, he is still alive and well. I tried to send my own Magizoologists to speak with them and hopefully come to an agreement, but I'm afraid the new King Anden is not fond of coming to an agreement with us, you Newt. You know them more than anyone else. I was going to send a letter to the Britain Minustry of Magic, wanting you to come here, so imagine my surprise when I was informed that one Newt Scamander and Harry Potter have set foot in France."
"Is it possible this can be dangerous for my apprentice."
"Our relationship might not be as stable as it used to be, but they know better than to cause harm to anyone of the land, but I understand your concern for your apprentice. I'm not ordering you to do this, I would never force anyone to do this even if you and Monsieur Potter were part of France Magical Community. If you decide to help, then I can assure you Monsieur Potter will be kept safe, while you have a meeting with the old King."
Newt looked down at Harry, as if asking if he wanted to be part of this, or if he wants to go with their origin plan and not have to deal with whatever was happening here.
"Remember that I can talk to most magical animals. I can help here," Harry said quietly, knowing this was probably a bad idea. Even Itisa from the bag made a sound that sounded like.
'You are dumb, Harry Potter.'
"I will bring a translator to assist with—" the Minister began, but Newt politely cut him off.
"That won't be necessary, Minister. I will help you, but I can't guarantee that I will be able to accomplish anything here. The old king might have been my friend, but that was many years ago, as you said. There is a new King now." Newt said with a look of excitement; not many people could say they had been in the Royal Deep Capital, and now he would be there for a third time. Harry was also excited; he wondered how much different things were down there when he thought of exploring this underwater society.
"I'm grateful that you are willing to help, but you need a translator, Monsieur Scamander. You needed one the first time you were down there. I understand you taught the Old King how to speak our language, but he is not the only one you will be talking with."
"Harry has a natural gift for understanding magical creatures. It's quite remarkable. He will be my only translator, Minister."
Minister Delacour gave Harry a long look as if he was studying him, looking up at his forehead, before looking down at the talisman Harry was wearing as a necklace, before nodding approvingly. "Zen perhaps you might succeed where our negotiators have failed. Ze Royal Sea Horses respect those who understand magical creatures. Zey might be more... forthcoming with you than with our officials."
"And if we discover their reasons for leaving are valid?" Harry asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "What then?"
Rather than being offended, Delacour looked impressed. "You think like them, young Monsieur Potter. Good. Zat is exactly what we need. Fresh eyes, unclouded by centuries of politics." He paused, considering. "If their reasons are valid, zen we must know. Better to understand ze truth, even if it is uncomfortable, non?"
"Though preferably without any fountain-related incidents this time," Newt added cheerfully.
"Indeed," Delacour said dryly. "Our maintenance staff is still recovering from your last visit."
"The Glowfish just wanted to add some ambiance," Newt protested. "How was I to know they had such strong opinions about wine vintages?"
Harry bit back a smile, but his mind was already working through the implications. The Minister was worried – more worried than he was letting on. These missing shipments, the strange reports from the depths, the timing of the Sea Horses' sudden desire for independence... it all felt connected, but how?
"We will, of course, provide you with all necessary resources," Delacour continued, moving to his desk and retrieving several scrolls sealed with blue wax. "These will grant you access to ze restricted areas of our coastal waters. Ze Sea Horses respect such formalities, even now."
"And the Military Corps?" Harry asked, remembering the missing escorts. "Will they allow us near their territory?"
"Ah, zat is where timing is on our side." The Minister unrolled one of the scrolls, revealing a map of the French coastline with moving magical markers. "In three days, zere will be what ze Sea Horses call 'Le Festival des Marées' – the Festival of Tides. Even in these... tense times, zey maintain certain traditions."
Newt's eyes lit up with familiar enthusiasm. "The Tide Festival? I've heard of it, but it's usually closed to surface dwellers."
"Usually, yes. But as official researchers with these permits..." Delacour smiled slightly. "Let us say that even proud warriors cannot ignore proper documentation. Especially when signed by both myself and their King."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "The King agreed to this?"
"Let us say... he did not disagree." Delacour's expression turned thoughtful. "In fact, he seemed almost... eager for outside observers. Most curious, non?"
From the briefcase came another of those nearly imperceptible sounds – Itisa's version of 'this is definitely a trap.'
"And what exactly are we supposed to be researching?" Harry asked, playing along. "Officially, I mean."
"Ze effect of magical currents on local creature populations," Delacour replied smoothly. "A perfectly reasonable study, given ze unique properties of our waters. And if you happen to observe anything... unusual during your research..."
"Pure coincidence, of course," Newt added with a straight face.
"But of great scientific interest," Delacour agreed, his eyes twinkling. "Though perhaps we should avoid any experiments involving wine this time, yes?"
"Minister," Harry said, keeping his tone respectful but firm, "what aren't you telling us? About the Aqualis, about these missing shipments?"
The underwater scenes on the walls darkened slightly, as if reflecting the Minister's mood. "There are... theories. About what Aqualis truly is. About why it forms only in zose deep trenches. Ze Sea Horses guard these secrets carefully, but there are whispers..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Whispers that suggest ze substance might be more than simply a powerful magical resource."
"What kind of whispers?" Newt asked quietly.
"Ze kind that suggest knowledge best left in ze deep." Delacour's voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. "Ze kind that might explain why certain... interested parties... would risk antagonizing ze Military Corps to obtain it."
Harry felt a chill that had nothing to do with the office's underwater ambiance. He'd heard that tone before – when people talked about Voldemort without saying his name.
"You think someone specific is behind the missing shipments," he said. It wasn't a question.
"What I think," Delacour said carefully, "is that ze timing of these events is too convenient to be coincidence. And that perhaps... perhaps ze Sea Horses' sudden desire for independence is not entirely their own idea."
"You think they're being manipulated?" Newt asked sharply.
"I think," the Minister replied, "that you should be very careful in your research. Watch ze currents, as we say here. Sometimes ze deepest threats come not from ze obvious predators, but from ze shadows they cast."
Harry exchanged a glance with Newt. They both knew what wasn't being said – and why this "research expedition" might be more dangerous than it appeared.
"One last thing," Delacour added, retrieving a final scroll from his desk. "Ze festival begins with ze evening tide in three days. Until then, you might find it... illuminating... to visit ze Marché Mystique in Marseille. Ze merchants there often hear things that never reach official channels."
Later
They left the Minister's office with a collection of official scrolls and what Harry suspected were more questions than answers. The magical fountains in the entrance hall had switched to performing selections from "The Magical Lake" – a wizarding version of Swan Lake where the dancers actually transformed into swans.
Once they were outside the Ministry, in a quiet corner of the Versailles gardens that Muggles never seemed to notice, Newt finally spoke.
"Well, that was thoroughly uninformative and completely concerning," he said cheerfully, setting his briefcase down. "I suppose we should let your friend out now. I imagine she has thoughts on all this."
Harry glanced around to ensure they were truly alone before nodding. Newt opened the briefcase, and Itisa emerged with all the dignity of an empress who had been briefly inconvenienced. She stretched, her form shifting slightly – not enough to break her cat disguise, but enough to make it clear she was thoroughly done with pretending to be luggage.
"You know," Harry said quietly, watching as Itisa surveyed their surroundings with keen intelligence, "I'm starting to think this summer might be more exciting than we planned."
"Oh, undoubtedly," Newt agreed, pulling out his ever-present notebook. "Missing shipments, underwater politics, mysterious substances with unknown properties... Though I must say, the Minister seemed particularly concerned about those 'whispers' he mentioned."
Itisa made a sound that clearly conveyed her opinion on politicians and their tendency to talk around important issues.
"He thinks Voldemort's involved," Harry said bluntly. "Or at least, his followers are. That's what he wouldn't say directly."
"Yes, I rather got that impression too." Newt frowned, making notes. "The question is, why? What's so special about Aqualis that would attract that kind of attention?"
"Besides its obvious magical properties?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "You saw how it looked in that vial. That wasn't normal magic."
"No," Newt agreed thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't. And the Sea Horses guard its source zealously. Even in my previous visits, they were very careful about keeping certain areas completely restricted." He looked up from his notes. "Though perhaps someone with your particular talents might have more luck getting answers."
Harry understood what he meant. His ability to speak with magical creatures – a secret known only to his closest friends – could be invaluable here.
"The festival could be our best chance," he said, thinking aloud. "If we can talk to some of the younger Sea Horses, away from official oversight..."
Itisa made a sound of agreement, then another that suggested she had thoughts about underwater surveillance.
"Yes, that's a good point," Harry told her. "We'll need to be careful about who might be watching. Both above and below the surface."
"Speaking of which," Newt interjected, "we should discuss how to handle your... unique situation underwater." He glanced meaningfully at Itisa. "I've been working on some modifications to bubblehead charms that might help maintain certain disguises..."
"Later," Harry said quickly, noticing a group of French wizards walking nearby. "First, I think we should visit this Marché Mystique the Minister mentioned. If someone's really targeting Aqualis shipments, the merchants might know something."
"Ah, the Magical Market of Marseille!" Newt brightened. "Fascinating place. Did you know they have an entire section dedicated to underwater commerce? The merpeople have a permanent trading post there. Though we should probably avoid the wine merchant's row..."
"Still banned after the Glowfish incident?"
"No, no, that was sorted out eventually. It's the singing sirens who run the local tavern – they still haven't forgiven me for that comment about their pitch control."
They began walking toward the public apparition point, Itisa padding silently beside them while Hedwig soared overhead. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the magnificent gardens, and in the distance, Harry could hear the faint sound of magical fountains performing their water ballet.
"Newt," he said suddenly, remembering something, "the Minister mentioned 'theories' about what Aqualis really is. Any idea what he meant?"
"There are old stories," Newt replied carefully, his usual enthusiasm tempered by seriousness. "Very old stories, about the magic that lies in the deep trenches. The Sea Horses aren't the only ones who guard ancient secrets in those waters."
"You think whatever's down there might be why someone's trying to drive them away from French waters?"
"I think," Newt said, choosing his words with unusual care, "that we should be very careful about what we assume to be coincidence. Particularly when it comes to ancient magic and those who might wish to... acquire it."
Itisa made a soft sound that somehow managed to convey both agreement and concern.
"Right then," Harry adjusted his bag, feeling the weight of the official scrolls inside. "Marseille first, then prepare for this festival. And maybe see if we can figure out why a supposedly simple magical substance has everyone so worried."
"Just remember," Newt added with a slight smile, "whatever happens, if something dangerous happens. I don't want you to fight, those magical creatures are powerful, if something happens, your talisman can't protect you from everything. So try to stay out of the way and keep your distance." Newt said with an unusual serious voice.
As they reached the apparition point, Harry couldn't help but feel that fountains might be the least of their concerns. Between missing shipments, mysterious substances, and the possibility of dark wizards lurking in the depths, this was shaping up to be anything but a normal summer research trip.
Then again, with a Nundu for a companion and a Thunder Bird disguised as an owl, 'normal' had never really been an option.
If you want to Read 12 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK