HP: The Big Bad Wolf

The grand examination hall of the French Ministry of Magic was an intimidating sight, but despite the imposing architecture, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of subdued emotions. Students milled about, some basking in the euphoria of passing their NEWTs, others sobbing over their failures, and a few hovering somewhere between the two extremes.

Unlike the dreary, gothic style of the British Ministry, the French design was bathed in sunlight streaming through ornate stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high, arched ceilings without any visible support, reflecting light in a thousand directions, adding to the room's almost annoyingly grandiose flair.

I stood apart from the rabble, my tall and lean figure radiating a quiet, almost smug confidence. Let the others worry about their future; I knew mine was set. Failure? Not a concern. Even if I somehow managed to fail, it wouldn't matter—I was fucking rich. 

My snow-white hair was tied back, exposing sharp, calculating features, and my piercing eyes, cold and predatory, took in the scene with a disinterested air. I was an observer, above the fray. Today, I was dressed in elegant, dark matte robes trimmed with a glowing black, making me stand out even more among the less impressive plebs surrounding me.

Let them have their moment of glory or despair—it didn't matter. I had already won, in ways these Plebs could never even dream of.

*Smirk*

As I gathered my examination parchments, a distinguished, slightly rotund man approached me. His name was Alfred De Lapin, the chief overseer of the examinations. In France, he was quite the prominent figure, having overseen thousands of wizards during their NEWT exams. Once, he had even served as a professor at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic—though I never really bothered with any school aside of Hogwarts as they're basically all the same. You know one, you know them all, well, theoretically. The man was in his late sixties, sporting a neatly trimmed silver beard with streaks of brown still visible. His warm expression, coupled with hazel eyes that sparkled with intellect and cunning, made him an intriguing figure. He was dressed in deep purple robes embroidered with intricate gold patterns, and he carried himself with the grace and authority befitting his position.

"Monsieur Prince, may I have a word?" De Lapin asked, his French accent adding a melodic quality to his speech. I hated to admit it, but the French accent had a certain charm to it, perhaps even more than the British accent I was used to.

I turned towards him, offering a polite nod. "Of course, Monsieur De Lapin."

De Lapin gestured toward a quieter corner of the hall, away from the celebratory chaos. As we walked, the noise faded into a distant hum, and the scent of aged parchment and enchanted ink filled the air.

"I must say, your performance during these examinations, both in the theoretical and practical components, has been nothing short of extraordinary," De Lapin began, his eyes reflecting genuine admiration. "Your breadth and depth of knowledge are unparalleled. In all my years, I have never seen such proficiency across so many disciplines. I'd even say you're already approaching mastery in some of these fields."

I allowed a modest smile to grace my lips. "Thank you, sir. I've always believed in the pursuit of comprehensive understanding."

'Damn right I am. I'm probably the most well-read wizard alive at this point! The only things left to read are locked away in Hogwarts, but that can wait.' I thought, mildly annoyed at the idea of returning to that dead-end school. I had better ways to spend my time and energy.

De Lapin chuckled softly. "That much is evident. Tell me, have you considered remaining here in France? With your talents, you could achieve great things. The Ministry would be honored to have someone of your caliber among its ranks. And I'd gladly offer a recommendation should you aspire to become an educator! On a personal note, if I may be frank, returning to Britain may not offer you the appreciation you deserve, given... certain circumstances."

A shadow flickered across my face, but I quickly masked it with a composed expression. "I appreciate your generous offer, Monsieur De Lapin, truly, and I may consider it in the future. However, for the moment, there are matters back in Britain that require my attention—unfinished business I cannot ignore."

De Lapin sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly in disappointment. "I understand. Duty and personal obligations often dictate our paths. But know that the offer stands as long as I live. Should you ever choose to return, France will welcome you with open arms."

I inclined my head respectfully, genuinely appreciative of his words. "That means a great deal to me. Thank you."

A moment of comfortable silence settled between us, only to be broken by De Lapin, whose eyes began to sparkle with curiosity. "If I may ask, what are your plans now? Surely someone of your ambition has a roadmap laid out."

A faint, enigmatic smile played on my lips as I considered my future. "Let's just say, the journey is just beginning, monsieur."

As if on cue, I raised my right arm gracefully. A swirl of vibrant flames erupted in the air above me, causing nearby students to gasp and step back in awe. From the heart of the fire emerged a magnificent phoenix, its feathers a dazzling array of scarlet and gold that shimmered with an otherworldly light. Keen observers would notice that the bird's eyes matched my own in a rather uncanny way, exuding a sense of timeless wisdom and a hint of savagery.

'Well, so much for giving the damn bird my blood!' I thought, amused. After the first few drops, my blood had become a part of the bird's diet—if I didn't offer it willingly, Orpheus would draw it himself. I even went out of my way to adorn him with enchanted rings and items, making sure he looked far superior to any other burning chicken. If I had to have one, it might as well be the best around.

The phoenix let out a melodious trill that resonated through the hall, calming the startled onlookers and filling the space with a soothing warmth.

'Braggart,' I thought, amused by his theatrics.

I saw De Lapin's eyes widen in amazement as he took a step back to fully admire my fiery companion. "Mon Dieu, what a splendid phoenix! I've never seen one so radiant."

My gaze softened as I looked up at the majestic bird, internally pleading that it wouldn't ruin the moment by attacking me. "I named him Orpheus. Because his song has been my solace and guide through some recent personal trials."

The man looks at me sadly for a very short moment, surely knowing what events I am talking about, but I heed it no mind.

Orpheus fluttered his expansive wings before settling gracefully onto my outstretched arm, nuzzling his head affectionately against my cheek.

'The name is oddly fitting,' I mused. 'Even though I hate birds and anything to do with flying, this damn burning chicken managed to lift me out of my depressive slump.'

De Lapin smiled, clearly moved by the display. "A fitting name. His song could charm even the most hardened of hearts."

I stroked Orpheus's plumage gently, my eyes reflecting a rare moment of tenderness. The bird genuinely had a calming effect on those around him. "I'm not sure if it applies to every heart, but it certainly applies to mine."

Turning back to De Lapin, I extended my free hand. "Thank you again for everything. Perhaps our paths will cross again in the future, under, I hope, more favorable circumstances."

De Lapin clasped my hand firmly, his gaze sincere. "I certainly hope we all pass through these dangerous times safely. Safe travels, Monsieur Prince. May fortune favor you in all your endeavors."

With a final nod, I signaled to Orpheus. The phoenix responded by enveloping us both in a brilliant flash of flames. The intense light forced those nearby to shield their eyes, and when it faded, both I and the flaming bird had vanished without a trace.

**(-.-') They've apparated!!!**

In an instant, I found myself standing before the grand entrance of Prince Manor, my ancestral home nestled in the secluded corners of London. The manor is an imposing structure of dark stone and gothic architecture, with towering spires that pierce the cloudy sky and intricate carvings adorning its façade. Ancient ivy crawled up the walls, and a serene mist hovered over the lush, expansive grounds, giving the estate an air of mysterious grandeur.

Unlike most other ancient magical families, mine didn't build their home to accommodate or merge with the surrounding structures. Prince Manor stands alone, which gives us considerable leeway when it comes to warding it. My business plans have been most splendid, and by now, I've purchased a good part of Diagon Alley and other magical streets. Most people are trying to escape the sinking ship that is Britain, as attacks have become an almost weekly occurrence.

Orpheus let out another melodic trill before taking flight, circling above the manor's highest tower before disappearing into the one reserved for the owls. There, he reigns supreme over the other asshole birds.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, dirty scent of city air being carried over. Despite all the bullshit I'll have to face in the coming weeks, months, or perhaps years, being back home brought a sense of nostalgia and peace.

The heavy oak doors pushed themselves open as soon as I drew close. I entered the vast foyer, where intricate marble floors met soaring ceilings adorned with chandeliers and ancestral portraits. The warmth of crackling fireplaces in adjacent rooms chased away the chill, and the familiar whispers of enchantments echoed softly through the halls. I've thought about redecorating the place, but any change makes me feel as though I might forget about my gramps and granny, as this was their home too.

"I really miss them," I muttered quietly.

As I made my way toward my study, a small, ornate silver tray appeared from somewhere and floated toward me, carrying a neat stack of letters tied together with a crimson ribbon. Attached was a note written in elegant script:

*"Welcome home, My Lord. These arrived during your absence."*

"Slavon, I'm really glad I took all those hours to educate you," I said happily when I saw him pulling this off flawlessly as he was supposed to.

A good servant is neither seen nor heard as he does his job, and I had to educate all the elves working here to adhere to this simple rule.

I took the bundle, deftly untangling the ribbon as I settled into a plush leather armchair by the fireplace in my study. The flames cast dancing shadows across the floor as I began to sort through the correspondence with utmost care.

The first letter was from Amelia Bones, written in her usual dry tone, basically asking if I was alright and why I was missing from Hogwarts. I set it aside with a faint smirk, mentally drafting a polite answer. Despite not seeing her as anything more than a passing acquaintance, she's bound to become useful eventually.

The next was from Gaydore, his neat handwriting bringing a disgusted expression to my face. The old man is still being his usual annoying self, trying to get me to meet up with him and explain what I'm doing. Yeah, that's not going to happen. I decided to write him a letter informing him that I'd already finished my education and would be traveling the world for a few years. I added that I was looking forward to doing my masteries in alchemy under his care when I eventually returned to Britain. This should give the old man the reassurance he so desperately desires. If I outright cut him off, he'd probably send his little minions to shadow me. And don't kid yourself—he definitely has minions. The Order of the Phoenix would need way more people working in the shadows to operate the way it does.

Several other letters followed—from schoolmates, acquaintances, and even a few admirers—each receiving a tailored reply that balanced courtesy with my trademark succinctness.

As I penned the last response, the grandfather clock in the corner chimed softly, indicating the late hour. Stretching my fingers, I finally stood up, stretched, and made my way toward my private chambers to prepare for the tasks ahead.

My room was a harmonious blend of old-world elegance and modern functionality, with a touch of chaos—basically, a room that screams *mad genius.* Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, overflowing with ancient tomes, potions ingredients, and mysterious artifacts I'd collected over the last few years. A grand four-poster bed draped in rich emerald and silver silks dominated one side, while a large desk cluttered with scrolls and alchemical equipment occupied the other.

With a wave of my hand, an unassuming, weathered knapsack floated from beneath the bed, landing gently at my feet. Despite its tattered appearance, I knew the bag held a shit ton of powerful enchantments.

I began methodically packing all my essentials. Books flew off the shelves, shrinking mid-air before neatly stacking themselves inside the bag. Vials of rare potion ingredients, delicate instruments, and bundles of parchment followed suit, each finding its designated place within the seemingly bottomless space.

I moved through the room with practiced efficiency, ensuring nothing of importance was left behind. The bag's enchantments guaranteed its contents were protected from harm, always accessible, and, most importantly, bound to me alone. It was a legacy item, passed down through generations, and heavily modified by me to suit my unique needs.

As I secured the last of my belongings, Orpheus reappeared in a burst of gentle flame, perching on the back of a nearby chair and watching with keen interest.

I glanced up, a hint of amusement in my eyes. "Enjoying the show, are we?"

The phoenix responded with a soft, musical chirp, tilting his head inquisitively.

I chuckled softly, closing the clasp on the knapsack. "It's time, friend. You just need to drop me off in Greece. There's much to be done and little time to do it. We'll see each other when I return from my journey."

Orpheus trilled in agreement, his feathers shimmering with anticipation.

Hoisting the deceptively light bag onto my shoulder, I took one last look around my now nearly empty chamber, committing every detail to memory. It would be some time before I returned, and saying goodbye, even to an empty room where I had spent so much time, felt oddly difficult. The future was uncertain, and I didn't know what to expect when I came back.

Turning on my heel, I strode purposefully out of the room, Orpheus gliding silently behind me. As I walked through the dimly lit corridors of Prince Manor, I couldn't help but think about the first time I set foot in these same halls.

"Well, time to move on, eh, Gramps?" I asked, amused, hoping for a reply that would never come.

Exiting the manor, I paused atop the stone steps, the moon now casting a silvery glow over the sprawling grounds. I raised my arm, and Orpheus settled upon it gracefully, his luminous eyes meeting mine. I could tell the bird was annoyed by all the dramatic crap I was spouting, but he was bearing it like a champ.

"Let's go," I said with a smirk.

In a magnificent display, Orpheus spread his wings wide, flames erupting around them in a swirling vortex of light and heat. With a powerful beat, he pulled me up, and we soared into the night sky, leaving behind only a few embers that danced in the cool night air before fading into darkness.

*I really hate flying,* I thought, annoyed as my stomach churned at the experience.

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