章 515: 0514 Bad Luck
The peaceful morning air was suddenly shattered by a bone-chilling shriek that echoed across the grounds. The demolished moss, now transformed 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 movement 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 some 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 tournament events could potentially spark an international diplomatic incident, something that could jeopardize not only the current tournament but future inter-school relations as well.
"Professor Watson," A young Beauxbatons witch called out eagerly, her accent giving her words a melodious 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 seemed 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 amusement.
"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 fearsome 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 meeting 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 moments 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 immediately insisted on joining the group, claiming he'd long admired Hogwarts. But Bryan knew better—this man was probably worried he might try something 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 something 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 meaningful look, one that carried clear warning beneath its professional courtesy. Karkaroff, reading the message 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 time or attention."
"How horrible—"
The mention 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 demeanor, was surprisingly affectionate towards her sister. She immediately softened, and bent down slightly to comfort Gabrielle with gentle words. Even in this moment 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 gruesome 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 demeanor 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 warmer, "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' gamekeeper 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 become. 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 exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.
Fleur, who had spent considerable time with Bryan Watson in Paris, found herself taken aback by his tone. She had been present at the gathering where Bryan had met with many notable figures in the European magical world– distinguished Academicians, powerful political figures, and wealthy Businessmen. 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 someone 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 somewhat 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 meet – don't be surprised if you find yourself invited in for a cup of tea and some of his... unique baking."
Fleur was about to follow the group when she realized Gabrielle's hand was no longer in hers. To her astonishment, 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 commented with poorly concealed amusement, noting Fleur's shocked expression. "Gabrielle usually shies away from strangers, but she seems quite taken with Professor Watson!"
For some 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 something 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 transformed into the impressive jack-o'-lanterns now adorning the Great Hall, while the medium-sized ones had made their way to the kitchen. What remained were the smaller varieties, some 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 me to select one for you to take as a memento?"
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 fame, 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 someone we barely know, Gabrielle. I can help you myself—"
"Miss Delacour, Wait! The pumpkin patch has—" Bryan's warning came 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 came 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 shamelessly.
"—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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章 516: 0515 The Incident
The enraged Blast-Ended Skrewt emitted a thunderous, ear-splitting roar that reverberated across the Hogwarts grounds, causing nearly half of the people present to jolt in surprise. The few Hogwarts students who had been leisurely strolling around the grounds on this crisp autumn day suddenly froze in their tracks, their faces etched with concern as they turned their worried gazes towards Hagrid's rustic wooden hut. Some of the more curious and brave students were already breaking into a jog, as they rushed over to investigate the source of the commotion.
To be perfectly honest, even Bryan was startled by the unexpected commotion. Beside him, Gabrielle was panicked. Her sky-blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she called out to her sister in a voice that quavered with fear and concern.
The little girl's silvery-blonde hair whipped around her face as she frantically attempted to dash into the tangled mess of vines and leaves of the pumpkin patch.
However, just as Gabrielle was about to plunge recklessly into the chaotic tangle of vines, Fleur's voice rang out tinged with a mix of pain and protective instinct. "N'approche pas, Gabrielle! Ce n'est pas sûr ici!"
Her French words, translating to "Don't come any closer, Gabrielle! It's not safe here!"
Gabrielle slipped to an abrupt halt at her sister's words, her momentum causing her to stumble slightly. She stood there, frozen in place, her small body trembling with a mixture of fear and helplessness as she was unsure of what to do.
Karkaroff was also visibly startled by the sudden explosion. However, he quickly regained his composure, smoothing out his facial features into a mask of indifference. His cold eyes flickered towards Fleur Delacour, who had fallen among the sprawling vines of pumpkins.
A hint of amusement, perhaps even satisfaction, glimmered in his gaze as he struggled to keep a straight face. Turning to Watson, he said in his thickly accented English, a note of false concern barely concealing his underlying schadenfreude, "Beauxbatons' potential champion is injured, Professor Watson. I think we should inform Madame Maxime. Do you want me to go?"
Bryan's piercing eyes flicked briefly towards Karkaroff, taking in the man's poorly concealed glee. However, he chose not to respond to this thinly veiled attempt at shirking responsibility. Instead, Bryan nimbly leapt over the old wooden fence that enclosed Hagrid's vegetable garden. His long strides carried him swiftly to Fleur's side, where he crouched down to carefully examine her injuries.
The peaceful autumn afternoon was further disrupted by Hagrid's booming voice as he came lumbering around from behind his house.
"What's goin' on? What happened?" he called out, his beetle-black eyes wide with concern. Hagrid's massive body casted a long shadow as he approached. His moleskin overcoat was splattered with mud, and his enormous dragon-hide boots were caked with it, suggesting he had just returned from one of his frequent excursions into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
As Hagrid drew closer, his puzzled expression deepened at the sight of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students gathered around his beloved vegetable garden. However, when his gaze fell upon Professor Watson crouched among the lush vines, examining a lying female student, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in concern. Without hesitation, he quickened his pace, his heavy steps causing small tremors in the ground as he hurried towards the garden.
"Oh, it's Professor Watson an' that Beauxbatons girl--" Hagrid began, but his words were cut short by the arrival of three more figures sprinting towards the scene.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron had evidently been on their way to visit Hagrid when they heard the commotion. Now they came running across the grounds, their robes flapping wildly behind them, and faces flushed with exertion and curiosity. They weren't the only Hogwarts students who had gathered, drawn by the unusual noise and the growing crowd, but they were the only ones brave (or perhaps reckless) enough to follow Hagrid into the pumpkin patch itself.
Harry, his messy black hair even more disheveled than usual from the run, was the first to speak as his eyes quickly scanned the scene before him.
"It's the Blast-Ended Skrewts!" He exclaimed, immediately grasping the situation with only a glance. After all, they had been dealing with Hagrid's new favorite pets for some time now.
Karkaroff, who had been observing the unfolding drama with a mix of disdain and amusement, glanced carelessly at Harry. He was about to turn his gaze back to Fleur, no doubt to further relish in her misfortune, but before he could do so, his body suddenly went stiff.
His eyes, usually cold and calculating, widened in shock as they fixed upon Harry's forehead. During the boy's sprint across the grounds, his unruly hair had parted, revealing the lightning-shaped scar that had made him famous throughout the wizarding world. Karkaroff stared, transfixed, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.
Meanwhile, Hagrid's initial concern had converted into full-blown panic as he realized the implications of his cultivated pets injuring a Beauxbatons champion candidate. The incident with Buckbeak injuring Draco Malfoy the previous year was still fresh in his mind, a painful reminder of how quickly things could go wrong. With a trembling voice, he said, "I'll go fetch Professor Dumbledore." His words carried a note of desperation, as if hoping that the headmaster could somehow make this all go away.
However, before Hagrid could take more than a step, Bryan's calm voice came through the air, stopping him in his tracks. "That won't be necessary, Hagrid," he said, his tone calm and reassuring. "Let's assess the situation first."
Bryan turned his attention back to Fleur, who was still lying among the pumpkin vines. Her school uniform was now in disarray. The hem of her powder-blue skirt was torn, likely caught and ripped by the agitated Blast-Ended Skrewt during its explosive outburst.
The tear exposed her calf, which, upon closer inspection, showed no obvious injuries. This was to be expected; if the Skrewts' explosions were truly that damaging, Hagrid wouldn't have dared bring them to class, regardless of his penchant for dangerous creatures.
Nevertheless, Fleur's exposed skin was an unnatural shade of red, as if she had been briefly exposed to intense heat. It appeared that while the Skrewt's blast hadn't caused any serious harm, it had managed to scorch her with its fiery expulsion.
"How do you feel?" Bryan looked up at Fleur, his eyes meeting hers and asked calmly.
When the incident first occurred, Fleur had indeed been shocked, embarrassed, and more than a little angry. The indignity of being knocked off her feet by a magical creature in front of her peers and potential rivals was not lost on her.
However, now that the initial surprise had worn off, she seemed more composed. In fact, there was even a hint of secret delight dancing in her blue eyes as she met Bryan's concerned gaze. Facing his inquiry, she wrinkled her pert nose slightly.
"It hurts a bit--" Fleur said in a weak voice. She bit her lower lip, as if trying to suppress a wince, though whether from genuine pain or for dramatic effect was hard to discern.
Bryan nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the situation.
"It seems we need to visit the hospital wing--" He said, his tone matter-of-fact but not unkind. "Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey is very professional in healing. She'll give you a thorough examination and have you right as rain in no time."
With a subtle movement of his long fingers, Bryan performed a wordless spell. An unripe pumpkin nearby detached from its vine, rising into the air as if plucked by an invisible hand. As it levitated, the gourd began to transform, its shape twisting and elongating in a complex series of transfigurations. Within moments, what had once been a simple pumpkin had become an elegant stretcher for Fleur.
With a flick of his wand, Bryan gently levitated Fleur from the ground onto the conjured stretcher. The magic was so smooth and controlled that Fleur barely felt the movement, settling onto the surprisingly comfortable surface with a small gasp of appreciation.
As Bryan prepared to guide the stretcher towards the castle, his eyes noticed the mud staining the hem of Fleur's skirt. He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of indecision crossing his face. Then, he shrugged off his own robe and carefully draped it over Fleur's body.
"Professor Karkaroff?" Bryan turned his head towards Karkaroff who was still almost mesmerized by Harry's scar.
"What?" Karkaroff was startled out of his trance-like state, his gaze reluctantly tearing away from Harry's forehead. He blinked rapidly, as if coming back to reality, and focused on Bryan with a slightly dazed expression.
"I need to take Miss Delacour to Hogwarts' hospital wing to treat her injuries--" Bryan said calmly. "Would you mind informing Madame Maxime?"
Karkaroff's face twisted into a grimace. It was clear he didn't want to leave, especially now that he had spotted Harry Potter. His eyes kept darting back to the famous scar, as if charmed.
However, he had no suitable reason to stay, especially since he had just volunteered to notify Madame Maxime himself. Trapped by his own words, Karkaroff gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, his silver furs swirling around him as he strode away, casting one last longing look at Harry over his shoulder.
"Well then--" Bryan turned to the still-shocked Hagrid, who looked as if he might faint at any moment. "I was just giving these visitors from afar a tour of Hogwarts grounds. Hagrid, if possible, could you continue the tour for me? It would be impolite to leave it unfinished--"
Hagrid moved his lips, forming words that didn't quite make it past his throat. His face had turned a shade of pale, the color standing out starkly against his wild black beard. He knew it wasn't quite appropriate for him to stay out of this situation, given that it was his creatures that had caused the problem. However, Professor Watson was already guiding the floating stretcher towards the castle, with the little Delacour girl trotting anxiously at his side.
"Oh, and--" Bryan suddenly stopped about sixty feet away and called back to Hagrid, his voice carrying clearly across the distance. "Don't take these children into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid."
With that final caution, he set off again, the stretcher floating beside him as they made their way towards the Hogwarts castle.
As the small group disappeared into the distance, Harry turned to ask Hermione, his face etched with worry. "There won't be any problems, will there, Hermione?"
Hermione had an equally troubled expression. She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully before responding.
"If you're asking about the injuries that Miss Delacour received, Harry--" She began, choosing her words carefully, "I don't think there will be any serious physical problems. Blast-Ended Skrewts, while certainly unpleasant, don't cause particularly severe harm. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can heal her in the blink of an eye."
She paused, her brow furrowing. "But if you're asking about the seriousness of this incident in terms of inter-school relations or the upcoming tournament--"
Hermione let out a deep sigh. "That depends entirely on Beauxbatons' attitude. If they choose to make an issue of it, this could possibly cause quite a stir."
As the golden afternoon light began to fade into the softer hues of early evening, the Hogwarts hospital wing was just beginning its normal operations after the quiet period following the start of term.
From now until the end of the academic year, Madam Pomfrey would find herself with hardly a moment's rest. After all, nothing in the world could stop imaginative young wizards from getting into mischief, concocting ill-advised potions, or mishandling spells in ways that often resulted in visits to her place.
As Bryan guided the floating stretcher through the heavy oak doors of the hospital wing, with Gabrielle trotting anxiously at his side, he was somewhat surprised to see a familiar face among the occupied beds. Neville was perched on the edge of one of the white beds, looking rather sheepish.
At first glance, he didn't appear to have any visible injuries, but upon closer inspection, there was one glaring issue: his left ear had somehow migrated to the center of his forehead, sitting there like a fleshy, misplaced third eye.
"I was practicing the Switching Spell that Professor McGonagall assigned--" Neville explained in response to Professor Watson's raised eyebrow, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
Despite the seriousness of their own situation, both Fleur and Gabrielle couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
"What's the matter, Bryan?" Madam Pomfrey's voice came first before her as she walked out from one of the private wards.
Upon seeing Bryan, her face initially darkened, no doubt remembering past incidents where he had brought in queues of injured students after particularly eventful Defense Against the Dark Arts and P.E lessons. However, when she realized he wasn't followed by a parade of wailing students, she seemed to breathe a visible sigh of relief. Her stern facial features softened slightly as she quickly walked over to assess the situation.
"This young lady from Beauxbatons--" Bryan indicated Fleur on the stretcher with a gesture of his hand. "Her leg was slightly injured while visiting Hagrid's vegetable garden."
"Oh--" Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows rose slightly as she lifted the robe covering Fleur. Her experienced eyes took in the situation at a glance. Students injured by Hagrid's latest batch of 'interesting' creatures were neither the first nor would they be the last to grace her hospital wing.
"Don't worry, child--" Madam Pomfrey's attitude was noticeably much gentler towards guests. Her voice took on a soothing, almost maternal tone as she spoke to Fleur, "A dab of essence of dittany will heal it right up. Of course, considering you might have been a bit shocked by the incident; I think you should have a cup of hot chocolate with a Calming Draught. It'll soothe your nerves and help you relax."
Fleur's face lit up with a dazzling smile, her natural Veela charm seeming to make the entire room a bit brighter. "Thank you, Madam,"
In fact, Fleur was well aware that her injuries were far from serious. Even if left untreated, they would have healed on their own in a matter of days. But she was clearly delighted by this unexpected turn of events. The prospect of spending time alone with Bryan, away from the prying eyes of her classmates was an opportunity too good to pass up.
"As the culprit--" Fleur tossed her silvery-blonde hair over her shoulder. She focused her gaze on Bryan, her smile brightening even further and said eagerly. "You'll stay here, won't you?"
Bryan, of course, couldn't possibly leave. If Madame Maxime were to arrive later only to find that he had left Fleur here unattended, she would undoubtedly be displeased. The fact that this was actually a result of Fleur's own mischief didn't change the social obligations at play. He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Miss Delacour. I'll stay until Madame Maxime arrives."
Madam Pomfrey, sensed something unusual but chose not to comment, and gently guided the floating stretcher carrying Fleur into a private room to treat her injuries. The crisp white curtains swished closed behind them, leaving Bryan and Gabrielle in the main area of the hospital wing.
As soon as her sister was out of range, Gabrielle turned to Bryan, her big blue eyes - similar to Fleur's - widened with an almost conspiratorial gleam. She beckoned Bryan to lean down, as if she had a great secret to tell. When he did crouched down to her level, she whispered, "Sister likes you--"
Bryan's eyebrows rose. "Oh, does she?" he replied, his tone gentle and amused. He reached out to adjust a stray lock of Gabrielle's silvery hair that had fallen across her forehead. "Did she tell you that?"
Gabrielle's response was a curious mix of honesty and childish determination. She shook her head slightly, but then nodded insistently. Her small face scrunched up in concentration as she searched for the right words in English. "Sister talked about you all summer," She told, her voice still a whisper as if she was sharing a great secret. "She said you're more special than any boy she's ever met--"
Then, with the solemn air of someone reporting a crucial piece of evidence, Gabrielle pointed at the robe draped over Bryan's arm - the one he had covered with Fleur earlier. Her blue eyes were serious, as she continued, "And besides Papa, she never lets any other boy's touch her, not even their clothes."
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