With the Room of Requirement now revealed and established as their hidden base, the group knew it was time to give their fellowship a name. After some debate over scrolls, quills, and pumpkin juice, they agreed unanimously on a title that felt just right: the "Secrets Seekers."
"Has a nice ring to it," said Charles, spinning his wand between his fingers.
"It fits," Cho added, nodding thoughtfully. "We're not just curious—we're hunting secrets."
From that day on, the Room of Requirement became their unofficial headquarters. Every afternoon after class and most weekends, they gathered there to plan, study, and chase down every lead they could uncover about hidden chambers, long-forgotten spells, and the mysteries of R.S.
But despite their best efforts, the rest of the term passed without any real progress. They explored the fourth-floor corridor rumored to contain a hidden passage—only to find a broom cupboard filled with broken cauldrons. They scoured ancient texts in the library, trying to decipher coded messages, but each turned out to be misinterpreted or incomplete. Even a lead about an enchanted mirror in the dungeons led only to a mirror that showed what your shoes looked like from the back.
It was nearing Christmas break, and frustration had set in.
"Nothing," Cho sighed, slumping into one of the armchairs in their hidden room. "Weeks of work, and we've got nothing."
"We found the room," Charles pointed out, trying to stay optimistic. "That's not nothing."
"But nothing new," Evangeline added, flipping through a book and letting it fall closed with a thud. "Just rumors and dead ends."
Louis, ever composed, leaned back in his chair. "The best secrets don't want to be found. They're protected, hidden, and waiting. We just need patience."
"Patience is easier when it doesn't involve climbing through dusty fireplaces," muttered Charles, rubbing soot off his sleeves.
That evening, they said their goodbyes in the entrance hall, hugging or shaking hands one by one as trunks were levitated onto carriages.
"See you after break," Evangeline called, waving.
"Happy Christmas, Secrets Seekers," Cho said with a smile.
Louis returned to France, the snowy countryside rolling beneath the enchanted train windows until he was home again. The sight of the De Versailles estate, pristine and elegant beneath a dusting of snow, stirred something warm in his chest.
His parents welcomed him with open arms. Dinner that night was a spread of warm, delicate French dishes, and they dined by candlelight in the grand hall, soft music playing from a magical harp in the corner.
"Alors, my son," said his father, eyes sparkling with pride. "Tell us everything."
Louis did. He spoke of his sorting into Ravenclaw, the classes, the ghosts, and the awe of his first days. He told them about the Room of Requirement, the journal marked with R.S., and the spell he used to ward off some rude Slytherins. His parents listened closely, never interrupting, faces showing surprise and curiosity in equal measure.
"You're already chasing legends," his mother said. "I see Nicolas Flamel left you with more than just a wand."
Louis smiled modestly. "I only follow where the magic leads."
The next morning, the air was crisp and the sky bright as he set out from the estate to visit Fleur. His heart beat faster the closer he got. It had been months since they'd seen each other in person, and while their connection had only grown through their magical bond, being face-to-face again was something entirely different.
Fleur greeted him at the door of her family's home, bundled in a winter cloak, her silver-blonde hair gleaming in the morning light.
"Louis," she said with a shy smile.
He smiled back. "Bonjour, Fleur."
They embraced briefly, awkward for a second, then relaxing into the familiar comfort of one another.
They spent the day walking through the snowy woods near her home, talking about Hogwarts, about Beauxbatons, about the strange charms Fleur had learned and the eccentricities of Louis's professors.
But there was a tension between them—not bad, just uncertain. A sort of electric charge neither was quite sure how to handle. Louis, composed and thoughtful as ever, waited until they were sitting on a bench overlooking a frozen lake, the sun casting long shadows behind them.
He turned toward her, his voice steady but softer than usual.
"Fleur... there's something I've been meaning to say."
She looked at him, eyes bright, expression unreadable.
"We've grown close. Closer than I've ever been with anyone," he continued. "Even through letters and our bond, I think about you every day. And... I would like to be more than just close. I would like to be yours. If you'll have me."
Fleur blinked, her breath catching in the cold air. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she turned away for a moment, flustered beyond words.
"Louis... I..." She stumbled through her thoughts, then stood up abruptly. "You can't just say that so calmly!"
Louis rose with her. "Why not? It's how I feel."
Fleur covered her face with her hands, letting out a soft laugh. "You're impossible. And brave. And foolish."
"So... is that a yes?"
She peeked out from behind her fingers. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Yes. But you have to talk to me every day now. That's the rule."
Then, before he could say another word, she turned and ran, only to stop a few meters away, spin around, and shout, "Every. Single. Day!"
Louis chuckled, the cold breeze stirring his coat. A quiet joy filled his chest.