Kyle, who had been studying the golden symbols on the ceiling, turned toward the voices and noticed two others in the hall, chatting comfortably. The one who had just spoken was McPhail, whom he recognized from the Order of rlin ceremony at Hogwarts. Beside him sat a strikingly tall witch—though "tall" hardly seed adequate. Even while seated, she was at least two or three ters in height, making McPhail, himself a tall man, look almost childlike by comparison.
Kyle had only t one person of similar stature: Hagrid. This witch was about the sa height but had a very different presence. Unlike Hagrid's rugged appearance, she had a striking, handso face, with deep-set dark eyes, a sharp nose, and hair swept back into a neat, glossy bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a splendid peacock-blue satin robe adorned with opulent opals around her neck and on her thick fingers, giving her an elegant, almost regal aura.
As Kyle looked on, she handed two Galleons to McPhail—though in her enormous hand, the coins looked no bigger than soybeans.
"Fleur doesn't quite grasp the value of the Philosopher's Stone fragnts," she said in a low, smooth voice. "And solving the clues is also a show of wisdom."
McPhail chuckled without argunt, pocketing the two Galleons with a smug smile.
"Don't mind her, child. Olympe ans no harm," said a gentle voice beside Kyle. He turned to see an elderly man with a kind smile and flowing white hair. "In fact, we all know that your choice was the right one. After being used as a Portkey, the magic within the fragnt will completely dissipate, and it will eventually turn into nothing more than an ordinary stone."
The elderly man's attire was quite unorthodox compared to the others. He wore a vibrant light blue floral shirt, bright orange beach shorts, and large brown sunglasses shaped like clam shells. The only thing missing was a water pistol.
"Mr. Nicolas Flal," Kyle said, quickly realizing who he was speaking to.
"Oh, I'm glad you recognized ," Flal replied with a warm smile, extending his hand. "Just call Nicolas. Everyone does; it makes feel so much younger."
For a man over six hundred years old, the difference between twenty and two hundred must have seed negligible. Kyle, a bit taken aback, nodded and shook his hand, feeling how frail Nicolas's grip was—it was like shaking hands with a piece of tofu.
At that mont, the others approached.
"Hello again, my boy!" McPhail greeted him warmly. "Welco to Paris! This is Nicolas's forr residence. Allow to introduce Madam Maxi, the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. She made a special trip from her private estate in the Pyrenees just to et you."
Kyle looked up as best he could to et her gaze. "It's an honor to et you, Madam Maxi."
"Hello, my boy," she replied with an appraising look. "Have you ever thought about transferring to Beauxbatons?"
Kyle was taken aback by her forthrightness, but after a mont, he shook his head politely. "Hogwarts suits well, and all my friends are there."
"What a pity," Madam Maxi mused, seemingly undeterred. "But they could transfer along with you if they wished..."
"Now, Olympe, that won't do," McPhail said disapprovingly. "The boy clearly prefers Hogwarts."
It was no small thing to attempt poaching Dumbledore's students, and Madam Maxi seed to want not just Kyle but his friends as well. With his friendships and their talent, Hogwarts would feel the loss. Dumbledore might even rush to Paris overnight if he heard—and likely bring along Minerva McGonagall to help.
Maxi, unfazed, continued, "It's ultimately his choice, Dugald." She looked back at Kyle. "What do you say, my dear? Would you consider transferring? I assure you that Beauxbatons has fine professors and wonderful students. You'd enjoy it."
Kyle hesitated, trying to think of a polite way to refuse. Hogwarts, after all, had sothing unique—a Basilisk, a legacy from Salazar Slytherin himself, one of the school's Founders. Beauxbatons had no such legacy to compare. Why would he ever leave Hogwarts for a re crystal astrology tower?
"Sorry, I..." Kyle began, only to be interrupted.
"Don't be so quick to refuse, my boy..." A sly glint sparkled in Madam Maxi's eyes. "My offer stands until the mont you leave here."
McPhail suddenly looked exasperated, muttering, "Oh, blast it, how could I forget about the girl with the Veela bloodline? No wonder you brought her along!"
Madam Maxi rely smiled.
Leaning close to Kyle, McPhail whispered, "My boy, did you bring any Baruffio's Brain Elixir or Awakening Potion?"
"No," Kyle replied, shaking his head. The potion kit Director Sykes had given him contained a variety of basics, but not those potions. He rarely needed them anyway, so they hadn't crossed his mind.
"Oh... that's unfortunate. In that case, maybe we should—"
"Dugald!" Maxi interjected with a smile. "You can't make decisions for him. And I'm sure even if Dumbledore were here, he wouldn't refuse such an offer."
"Well, he's not here!" McPhail shot back, glancing from Kyle to Maxi's smiling face and then back again. Scratching his head, he groaned, "By rlin's beard, I shouldn't have co today!"
"Dugald, I have potion ingredients and a cauldron I can lend you, if you'd like," Nicolas offered with a grin. He had been quietly observing the entire scene, a glint of amusent in his eyes.
McPhail sighed, resigned. "There's nothing else for it. I just hope we're not too late..."
Still muttering his regret, he turned to Kyle, his tone serious. "Listen, kid. Until I return, you must stay alert. No matter what happens or what you see, keep your mind clear. It's crucial."
With that, he hurried off toward a room at the back of the hall. Maxi made no attempt to stop him, as a young girl had just appeared in the center of the hall as if out of thin air.
She wore the sa peacock-blue satin robes as Maxi, and her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes, a striking azure, seed even more enchanting than the ceiling itself, holding a charm that was almost impossible to ignore.
Maxi's smile widened as she walked over to the girl, took her hand, and led her to Kyle.
"May I introduce Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons's brightest student."
McPhail, watching from the doorway, groaned and covered his face with his hands, muttering, "It's over... Albus, forgive ..."
anwhile, Nicolas had settled into the best spot to view the scene, a bucket of freshly popped popcorn in hand, clearly prepared for so entertainnt.
However, to everyone's surprise, Kyle showed no sign of being enchanted or dazed. Instead, he extended his hand politely and said, "Nice to et you. You can call Kyle."
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