The soft voice startled Harry, and he turned to see a striking girl a few years older than him, her silvery-blonde hair shimmering under the sun, her blue eyes warm and curious.

"I—uh—yes," Harry stammered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I got separated from my family."

She smiled gently. "No worries. This place can be a maze if you're not familiar with it. Where did you last see them?"

Harry racked his brain, trying to remember. "I think they were near the cafés, by the square."

"Come on, then," she said, her voice reassuring as she began to lead the way. "You shouldn't be wandering alone, especially today. It's far too crowded."

Harry followed her, still feeling the weight of embarrassment. He knew he shouldn't have left the shop, but the excitement of the market had swept him up. As they walked, he couldn't help but steal glances at the girl. She moved with a natural grace, her confidence making her seem older than she was.

"You're English, right?" she asked, glancing at him with a smile.

"Yeah," Harry replied, still feeling a bit flustered. "I'm here on holiday with my family."

As they turned a corner, Harry spotted Andromeda and Ted up ahead. Ted looked frantic, his face pale as he searched the crowd. The moment Ted's eyes landed on Harry, a mixture of relief and frustration washed over his face.

The girl smiled again as they approached the Tonks family. "There you go. Safe and sound."

"Thank you," Harry said earnestly, his cheeks flushing slightly as he met her gaze.

Before he could ask for her name, she gave him a small, mysterious smile and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry called after her. "What's your name?"

She paused, glancing over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Maybe we'll meet again, Littel boy," she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

Harry stood there, watching her go, feeling both awed and bewildered. There was something about the girl that he couldn't quite explain, something that left a lasting impression on him.

"Thanks," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He was grateful, but the reality of what he had done was starting to hit him.

Ted rushed toward Harry, his face a storm of emotions. "Harry!" he exclaimed, his voice tight with panic. "Where have you been? I told you to stay in the shop!"

"I—I'm sorry," Harry stammered, his guilt weighing heavily on him. "I didn't mean to leave. I just got—"

"You got carried away," Ted finished, his voice stern but his expression softening as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You gave us a scare."

"I'm sorry, Ted," Harry said, his eyes downcast.

Andromeda appeared by Ted's side, her arms crossed, but her expression was more of concern than anger. "We've been looking everywhere for you, Harry. You should know better than to wander off."

Harry nodded, feeling the full weight of their worry. "I won't do it again, I promise."

Ted sighed, his hand ruffling Harry's hair as the tension eased. "Just stay close next time, alright?"

Harry nodded again, clutching the book tighter. He was grateful for their concern, but the excitement he had felt earlier had been replaced by a deep sense of regret.

As they walked back through the marketplace, Harry glanced back once, hoping to catch another glimpse of the girl who had helped him. But she was gone, swallowed by the crowd as if she had never been there at all.

On the last few days of their trip, Harry started to reflect on his experiences. The French magical community, so different from what he knew in Britain, captivated him. Unlike the secretive nature of British wizards, the French had a subtler integration with the non-magical world. Harry marvelled at the openness, from the magical shops hidden in plain sight to the majestic obelisk that housed the French Ministry of Magic in the heart of Paris.

During their holiday, Harry made it a point to explore as much of the French magical world as possible. The Ministry, unlike Britain's concealed hub, was open to visitors, and Harry was fascinated by the free-flowing interaction between the French magical community and the No-Maj world. It seemed less divided, and more harmonious, something he hadn't experienced back home.

In the evening before going home, they dined at a magical café, Ted explained the differences in magical laws between France and Britain. "The French are much more open about magic," he said, his tone thoughtful. "They don't isolate themselves as much from No-Majs. There's a level of trust between the No-Maj government and the French Ministry of Magic that is what lets them coexist more openly than we do."

Harry listened, absorbing every word. He had always wondered why the magical world in Britain seemed so isolated from Muggles. Now, he saw that it didn't have to be that way. Different countries had different approaches to magic, and the idea that magical practices could vary so much intrigued him. The world of magic wasn't a monolith—it was vast and diverse, waiting to be explored.

As the holiday drew to a close, Harry felt a strange excitement bubbling inside him. His experiences in France—the French Ministry, the vibrant magical streets, and especially the mysterious girl he had met—had opened his eyes to just how vast the magical world truly was. Hogwarts, he realized, was only the beginning.

On the final evening in Paris, Harry sat by the window of their hotel, gazing out at the twinkling lights of the city. His thoughts wandered back to the marketplace, the French Ministry, and the girl who had left such a deep impression on him. Her confidence, her grace, the way she spoke about Beauxbatons—everything about her lingered in his mind. She embodied something more—a world of magic beyond Hogwarts and the British magical system.

A deep yearning stirred within him. There was so much more to discover, and for the first time, Harry felt an overwhelming desire to explore it all. The world of magic was far bigger than he had ever imagined.

With a quiet sigh, he turned away from the window, his heart heavy yet excited. Tomorrow, they would return to Britain. But now, Harry knew one thing for certain—his journey into the magical world was just beginning.

Later that week, during one of his lessons with Dumbledore, Harry brought up what he had learned from the book Les Fondements de la Magie Sans Baguette—The Foundations of Wandless Magic.

"I've been reading about wandless magic," Harry said, as they sat together in a quiet room of the Tonks' house. "It's... different from what we've been doing."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling with interest. "Ah, french magic. A very ancient and powerful culture of magic, indeed. It requires an extraordinary level of focus and self-awareness. In many ways, it is more natural, more instinctive, but it is also more difficult to control."

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to phrase the question that had been gnawing at him since he started reading the book. "Why don't more wizards practice it? Why does everyone rely on wands so much?"

Dumbledore smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with age. "Wands, Harry, are tools of focus. They help channel our magic, making it easier to control and direct. Over time, wizards have come to depend on them, perhaps more than we should. But magic existed long before wands, and in many parts of the world, wizards still practice wandless magic as a way of connecting more deeply with their power."

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Harry nodded, but the questions in his mind didn't stop there. "Why do we call people like Ted 'Muggle-borns'? It doesn't seem... right."

Dumbledore's expression grew more serious, though there was still a gentleness in his gaze. "That is a more complicated question. The term 'Muggle-born' is, in many ways, a reflection of our society's tendency to create distinctions where there needn't be any. It is a label, and like many labels, it can carry connotations—both positive and negative. Some wizards, particularly those who cling to old beliefs, use it as a way to separate magical folk from non-magical families."

"But that doesn't make sense," Harry said, his voice rising slightly. "Ted's just as much a wizard as anyone else. Why does it matter where he comes from?"

Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes searching Harry's face. "You are right to ask these questions, Harry. And you are right to feel that such distinctions are unnecessary. The magical world, much like the non-magical one, has its prejudices and its blind spots. Some people believe that magical bloodlines are superior and that only those from certain families are worthy of respect. But magic does not discriminate. It lives in all of us, regardless of where we come from."

Harry felt a surge of frustration and confusion. He had always admired Ted and had looked up to him for his wisdom and kindness. The idea that anyone could look down on him simply because of his background made no sense at all.

Dumbledore watched Harry's reaction closely. "These are important questions you are asking, Harry. And they are questions that have been asked by many before you. The world we live in is not perfect. But it is through people like you—those who ask 'why'—that change begins."

Later that same week, during one of his lessons with Dumbledore, Harry's curiosity was growing by the day. The discovery of Les Fondements de la Magie Sans Baguette—The Foundations of Wandless Magic—had opened his eyes to new possibilities.

"I've been reading about wandless magic, from a book I got in France" Harry said, as they sat together in the quiet of the Tonks' house. "It feels different, more… direct than what I do with my magic it feels like I can't direct my magic it just works then it wants to."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with understanding. "That is perfectly understandable, Harry. Wandless magic is an ancient art, deeply tied to a wizard's connection with their magical core, rather than relying on the focus of a wand. It requires a level of self-awareness and mastery that many find difficult to achieve. Much of the world, however, practice magic without wands. The French, for instance, have long studied wandless spells, and it is quite common in places like Africa and South America, where magic is seen as something more intrinsic, a natural part of life."

He paused, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "For you to have any ability to control your magic at such a young age, Harry, speaks volumes of your talent and your connection to your core."

Harry shifted slightly in his seat, unsure whether to feel proud or overwhelmed. "But if it's so important, why don't more British wizards practice it? Why are we so dependent on wands?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly, stroking his beard. "Ah, an excellent question. Wands, my dear boy, serve as a tool to help channel and direct our magic, much like how a lens focuses a beam of light. With a wand, magic becomes easier to shape and easier to command. Wands were invented to simplify the process of spellcasting. Without one, the magic is still present within you—potent and ready—but it's far more difficult to control and refine. Wandless magic demands a deeper connection to one's magical core."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more reflective. "You see, Harry, many wizards grow accustomed to that ease, to the efficiency of using a wand. Over time, they forget that magic is something that flows from within, not just from the tip of a piece of wood. And because of that, wandless magic is rarely pursued in Britain. It is often seen as too difficult, too unpredictable."

Harry frowned, considering this. "So... it's easier, but not necessarily better?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling once again. "Wands allow us to focus our power, but in doing so, they also limit us in a way. Those who practice wandless magic—like the French or African wizards—see it as a more natural extension of themselves. But, as with all things, it comes with its challenges. Mastering magic without a wand requires more discipline, more patience... and, in many cases, a deeper understanding of oneself."

"So it's about knowing yourself as much as the magic?" Harry asked, intrigued.

Dumbledore nodded. "Exactly. A wand is like a crutch, Harry. It helps us walk, but if we never learn to walk on our own, we might never discover the full extent of our abilities."

Harry furrowed his brow. "You called something a Mana core?"

Dumbledore's eyes brightened at Harry's question. "Yes, Harry. The mana core is an essential concept, one that you'll delve into more deeply when you study magical theory at Hogwarts, but I can give you a simple explanation now," he said, his voice soft and patient.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands thoughtfully. "Every magical being has a core within them—an invisible well of power. It's not something you can see or touch, but it's there, nonetheless. Wizards, magical creatures, and even some animals possess them, though not all creatures can access their core consciously as we do. This core, or 'mana core,' grows and changes as we grow, becoming stronger as we practice and learn. It's what powers everything we do—our spells, rituals, enchantments, even the most basic magical instincts."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "So, is that why some people can use magic, and others can't? What about people like Ted, who are born to non-magical parents?"

Dumbledore's expression softened. "You are asking very wise questions, Harry. Yes, all living beings have some form of a core, but not all can tap into it in the way wizards can. For people like Ted, the core is awakened naturally. His parents, though not magical themselves, may still carry a dormant core that wasn't able to activate. And then, some cannot access their core at all, either due to the absence of certain magical traits or because their core never truly awakens."

"So, it's not about 'blood' then?" Harry asked, frowning. "Why does everyone make such a big deal about it?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said, nodding gravely. "It is not about the purity of one's lineage, but rather the connection to magic itself. The term 'Muggle-born'—which is a rather unfortunate and limiting label—does not fully capture the reality of how magic flows through all of us. There is magic in every being, Harry, whether they can access it or not."

Harry pondered this, feeling a sense of injustice rise within him. "Then why do we treat people differently if magic is inside everyone?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again, but there was a sadness behind them. "Fear, Harry. Fear of the unknown. Fear of losing power. It is a tale as old as time, in both the magical and non-magical worlds. But you, and those like you who ask such important questions, are the ones who can change things."

As the summer stretched on, Harry's lessons with Dumbledore evolved beyond mere spellcasting, opening up into deeper conversations about magic itself. Dumbledore would often reflect on his time as a young Hogwarts graduate, travelling to France to study under one of the most brilliant and long-lived alchemists in history—Nicolas Flamel.

"One evening, not long after my graduation," Dumbledore began one night as they sat in the quiet of the garden, "I had the extraordinary privilege of beginning my apprenticeship with Nicolas Flamel. He was a master of many forms of magic, not just alchemy. He took me to France, where I learned to see magic in a new light."

Harry leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What was it like? Learning from someone like him?"

Dumbledore smiled wistfully, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "It was both humbling and exhilarating. Nicolas showed me that magic was far more than just casting spells. It was an art, a philosophy—a way of shaping reality. In France, magic was viewed less as a rigid science and more as an expression of the soul. There were no strict divisions between 'light' and 'dark' as we have in Britain. Magic's potential goes far beyond the bounds of good or evil; it's all about intention and understanding."

Harry's interest deepened as he listened. "So, it wasn't about avoiding dark magic?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Indeed, Nicolas taught me that magic was not something to be feared, but something to be explored with wonder. It wasn't about categories of 'light' or 'dark,' but rather how we choose to use it. He believed magic was a tool to shape the world—not just to bend it to our will, but to understand it. He showed me how to look beyond the spells, beyond the wands, and into the very essence of magic itself. Those lessons, Harry, have stayed with me all my life."

Harry's thoughts wandered to what he had seen in the bookshops in France, filled with strange runes and magical texts from places far beyond Britain. "Then why in britain do we divide magic, into light and dark?"

Dumbledore paused, gazing at the sky. "That sadly is a construct of fear, Harry. In Britain, there has been a history of malicious wizards coming to power then welding that power to force their ideology on the populous. In truth Harry, magic is neither good nor evil. It is only the intent behind the spell that matters. In other cultures, magic is viewed more holistically. For instance, in places like Africa and South America, magic is often seen as a connection to the earth, the stars, and the spirits of the world. They use runes, places of power, and rituals to access the same magic that we do with wands. The divisions we create here are simply our way of trying to make sense of something vast and complex."

Harry pondered this, imagining how differently magic was viewed in other parts of the world. "It sounds like Nicolas helped you see magic in a whole new way to not be constrained by what is popular opinion."

Dumbledore nodded with a shine of pride in his eyes. "Yes, our time together expanded my horizons. Magic was no longer just a means to an end, but a way to shape reality itself. He taught me that the core of a wizard—our mana if you will—is like a great puzzle. It is sometimes calming, sometimes frustrating, but always ready to be understood. Our task as wizards is not to simply wield it, but to understand how it moves, how it connects with the world around us."

Harry sat back, letting the thought settle in. The idea that magic was more than just spells or wand movements, that it was something deeper, was starting to resonate with him. And, as he looked up at the stars, he felt that there was much more to learn—more than he had ever imagined.

Harry felt the familiar buzz of curiosity stirring inside him. There was so much more to learn—about magic, about himself, and about the world beyond what he had known. As he looked up at the stars, he felt that pull, that unquenchable desire to understand more. His mana core, as Dumbledore described it, was just beginning to stir, and he knew that his journey had only just begun.