0514 Bad Luck
The peaceful morning air was suddenly shattered by a bone-chilling shriek that echoed across the grounds. The demolished moss, now transford into a thousand tiny projectiles, pelted the faces of the front-row students with surprising force, each impact creating a sharp, crackling sound like miniature firecrackers.
The unexpected assault sent the young wizards stumbling backward in pain and surprise, creating a domino effect as they collided with those behind them. The once-orderly gathering dissolved into chaos, with students shouting in various languages and trying to shield their faces from the organic shrapnel.
As the initial pandemonium subsided and the last pieces of moss settled on the frost-covered ground, Bryan made an interesting observation.
Rather than instilling the intended caution, his demonstration and explanation had sparked fascination among the visitors. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, far from being properly intimidated, were studying the Whomping Willow with undisguised interest. Their eyes tracked the movent of its powerful branches as they sliced lethally through the air, completely disregarding Bryan's earnest warnings about the tree's dangerous nature.
A worried crease appeared on Bryan's forehead as he contemplated the situation. Perhaps, he pondered, it would be wise to suggest to Hagrid to erect so protective barriers around the Whomping Willow. After all, these Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were guests from foreign magical schools. Any injury outside of the official tournant events could potentially spark an international diplomatic incident, sothing that could jeopardize not only the current tournant but future inter-school relations as well.
"Professor Watson," A young Beauxbatons witch called out eagerly, her accent giving her words a lodious tone, "What fascinating sight will you show us next?"
"Well, for our next destination—" Bryan began, but before he could complete his thought, another voice cut through the crisp morning air.
"Professor Watson!"
Bryan felt his eye twitch involuntarily as he recognized the source of the interruption. Among the clustered Beauxbatons students, a familiar figure had raised her hand.
"Might it be possible," The voice continued with carefully crafted innocence, "for us to visit that particular chamber within Hogwarts?"
Fleur Delacour stood out among her peers like a ray of moonlight in darkness. She had little interest in Hogwarts' grounds, which to her appeared crude and unkempt compared to the artistic magnificence of Beauxbatons.
Where her own school had perfectly manicured gardens and elegantly designed architecture, Hogwarts seed to her like little more than an ancient, weathered fortress. Nevertheless, certain aspects of the castle had captured her attention. She looked at Bryan, whose forehead was now creased with visible irritation, and a mischievous smile appeared across her face, and her eyes were sparkling with barely concealed amusent.
"I'm referring, of course, to the legendary Chamber of Secrets," She elaborated, her voice taking on an almost theatrical tone of admiration. "The place where you confronted and defeated that fearso basilisk, finally lifting the thousand-year shadow that had haunted Hogwarts' Muggle-born students for generations!"
Fleur tossed her silvery hair, and gazed at Bryan with exaggerated adoration (feigned, of course).
"If possible, I'd love to see the secret chamber left behind by the legendary wizard Salazar Slytherin!"
Fleur's tone was like that of a teenage witch eting her idol. This caused a problem, as the object of affection for virtually every male student at Beauxbatons, her suddenly apparent fascination with Bryan Watson caused an instant shift in the atmosphere. The Beauxbatons boys, who had monts ago looked at Bryan with admiration and respect, now directed barely concealed hostility towards him.
Bryan didn't care about those hostile glances, but Fleur's request did trouble him. Before he could voice a tactful response, another voice joined the conversation.
"Surely, Professor Watson, you wouldn't deny such a modest request?" Karkaroff's voice oozed false sweetness, his smile as thin and sharp as a blade, never reaching his cold, calculating eyes.
Earlier this morning, When Bryan had arrived at the ghostly Durmstrang ship to invite the students for a tour of Hogwarts, Karkaroff imdiately insisted on joining the group, claiming he'd long admired Hogwarts. But Bryan knew better—this man was probably worried he might try sothing underhanded with his students.
The Chamber of Secrets, of course, was strictly off-limits. Visiting it was impossible. Even with the basilisk gone, the chamber held Hogwarts' most closely guarded secrets, and was not sothing to be displayed like a tourist attraction.
"I deeply regret, Miss Delacour," Bryan began, his voice carrying carefully cultivated regret, "that I cannot fulfill your request. You see, during my confrontation with the basilisk, the battle that ensued was particularly fierce. The chamber, already deteriorating from centuries of neglect, suffered significant structural damage. For everyone's safety, we've had to completely seal off that area. Entering it is now impossible for anyone—"
Bryan noticed Karkaroff preparing to interject and quickly shot him a aningful look, one that carried clear warning beneath its professional courtesy. Karkaroff, reading the ssage in Bryan's eyes, thought better of whatever he had been about to say.
"Besides," Bryan continued smoothly, turning back to address the whole group with a charming smile, "I assure you there's nothing particularly interesting to see there now. The chamber is little more than a collection of fallen stones and decomposing creature remains half-buried in putrid mud. Hardly worth your ti or attention."
"How horrible—"
The ntion of decomposing creature remains had an instant effect on young Gabrielle, who clutched her sister's hand more tightly. "Please, sister, I don't want to go there," she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly.
Fleur, usually presenting a haughty deanor, was surprisingly affectionate towards her sister. She imdiately softened, and bent down slightly to comfort Gabrielle with gentle words. Even in this mont of sisterly affection, however, she managed to shoot Bryan a 'resentful' look; clearly aware that his explanation was just an excuse.
"Professor Watson," Gabrielle's voice, still holding a trace of uncertainty but brightening with curiosity, broke through the tension. "Could we perhaps visit that place instead?"
The young girl, still holding tightly to her sister's hand, pointed toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Her voice, clear and sweet as a bell, carried the innocent enthusiasm that only a child could maintain after such a grueso discussion.
Perhaps due to her Veela heritage, Fleur's sister Gabrielle appeared even younger than her actual age, giving her the appearance of a delicate porcelain doll.
"Ah, over there—" Bryan's entire deanor changed as he looked at her. Even he wasn't immune to the request of such an adorable little girl.
"Of course, we can visit there! In fact," he continued, his smile growing warr, "that was already on our itinerary for today—"
Bryan's expression softened further as he spoke to Gabrielle.
"That house belongs to Rubeus Hagrid, who is both Hogwarts' gakeeper and our Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. For nearly fifty years, Hagrid has dedicated himself to this school, personally guiding countless young witches and wizards who arrived knowing nothing of magic. He's watched over them, supported them, and helped shape them into the outstanding witches and wizards they would beco. It can be said that at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, apart from our Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, he is the most respectable wizard."
"That's amazing—" Gabrielle exclaid, her eyes wide with wonder.
Fleur, who had spent considerable ti with Bryan Watson in Paris, found herself taken aback by his tone. She had been present at the gathering where Bryan had t with many notable figures in the European magical world– distinguished Academicians, powerful political figures, and wealthy Businessn. Throughout all these encounters, he had maintained an air of professional courtesy and respect.
But never, in all their interactions, had she witnessed him speak to soone with such genuine warmth as he did now when describing Hagrid.
Fleur's eyelashes fluttered as she glanced at Gabrielle beside her, then looked back at Bryan with a sowhat gritted teeth expression.
"Well then, shall we proceed?" Bryan gestured toward Hagrid's hut. "During your stay at Hogwarts, Hagrid will be teaching all of you Care of Magical Creatures. He's one of the most welcoming souls you'll ever et – don't be surprised if you find yourself invited in for a cup of tea and so of his... unique baking."
Fleur was about to follow the group when she realized Gabrielle's hand was no longer in hers. To her astonishnt, she watched as her typically shy sister darted to the front of the gathering, falling into step beside Bryan with obvious delight.
"Well, this is unexpected—" A Beauxbatons student comnted with poorly concealed amusent, noting Fleur's shocked expression. "Gabrielle usually shies away from strangers, but she seems quite taken with Professor Watson!"
For so reason, Fleur felt an inexplicable pang in her chest at these words.
While most of the visitors weren't interested in Hagrid's modest hut and its accompanying vegetable garden, Gabrielle showed genuine fascination with every detail. Coming from Beauxbatons, where every plant was carefully selected and maintained for its aesthetic value, Hagrid's practical garden represented sothing entirely new and intriguing to her young eyes.
"Professor Watson," She asked, leaning against the rough wooden fence and peering into the garden with undisguised curiosity, "Did Mr. Hagrid grow all those big pumpkins we saw in the Great Hall?"
The garden before them showed signs of recent harvest – the largest pumpkins had already been transford into the impressive jack-o'-lanterns now adorning the Great Hall, while the dium-sized ones had made their way to the kitchen. What remained were the smaller varieties, so still clinging to their vines, no larger than a baby's fist, looking quite adorable.
"Indeed, he did," Bryan replied, his voice gentle as he patted her head kindly. "Would you like to select one for you to take as a nto?"
Just as Gabrielle's face lit up with joy at the offer, Fleur pushed her way through the crowd. Perhaps due to their previous acquaintance in Paris, before Bryan had achieved such fa, the Bryan Watson that others feared wasn't so intimidating to her. She gave him a stern look and said,
"There's no need to trouble soone we barely know, Gabrielle. I can help you myself—"
"Miss Delacour, Wait! The pumpkin patch has—" Bryan's warning ca too late, as Fleur, determined to prove her competence as a sister, had already darted around the fence and into Hagrid's garden—
BANG!
The explosion ca with a brilliant flash of light and a thunderous boom that echoed across the grounds. Fleur was thrown backward, her face blackened with soot, crying out in pain as she landed unceremoniously in the muddy ground between the pumpkin vines.
The force of her fall had torn her uniform, revealing a glimpse of her pale, smooth calf – a sight that caused every male student from both visiting schools to gawk shalessly.
"—Blast-Ended Skrewts,"
Bryan finished with a mixture of sympathy and resignation, watching as the proud Fleur Delacour discovered firsthand why Hagrid's garden wasn't as ordinary as it appeared.
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