0510 Lights & Shadows

The office windows were sealed tight against the autumn chill, their panes reflecting the dancing flames inside. Thick pine logs, freshly cut from the Forbidden Forest, crackled and popped in the massive stone fireplace, sending spirals of golden sparks up the chimney.

The vigorous flames casted shadows across the book-lined walls, their heat radiating in powerful waves. Within minutes, the previously cool office transformed into something approaching the warmth of a volcanic hot spring.

Fleur, her silvery-blonde hair shimmering like moonlight on water, delicately flicked a strand from her face. Her slender hands moved gracefully through the warm air as she fanned herself and her eyes sparkled with barely contained curiosity as she leaned forward in her chair.

"Who was that witch?" She asked, her French accent giving a musical quality to her words. "There was something special about her— I mean, she possessed an extraordinary beauty. When did your paths first cross?"

"Beautiful?" Bryan let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Wouldn't you say 'dangerous' is a more fitting description?"

"Oh, but monsieur," Fleur's eyes danced with mischief and keen intelligence as she settled more comfortably in her chair. "Those are not mutually exclusive qualities, you know—"

Her gaze took on a probing intensity, and her voice dropped to a whispered-gossipy tone. "At Beauxbatons, it's all anyone can talk about. Some of my classmates are convinced you two were lovers, but that you cast her aside, and she attacked the Quidditch World Cup out of humiliation.

Of course, I'm well aware she's currently imprisoned in that dreadful prison, but this... Well, forgive me, but doesn't this align perfectly with what seems to be something of a Hogwarts tradition?"

"Hogwarts tradition?" Now Bryan was genuinely confused.

"Well, it's just whispered rumors, you know—" Fleur's long eyelashes fluttered bewitchingly as she spoke, her voice dropped even lower. "Gellert Grindelwald was imprisoned in Nurmengard by your current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. There are rumors that they—"

Ahem!

Bryan coughed loudly, interrupting what Fleur was about to say. Otherwise, if the old man outside his door were to burst in, seething with indignation, the situation could quickly spiral out of control and he might not be able to restrain him.

"Please, Miss Delacour—" Bryan's forehead creased with several prominent lines of irritation. "When you return to your school, I would greatly appreciate it if you could inform your classmates that the witch who attacked the World Cup was nothing more than a particularly dangerous dark witch I've been trying to capture. She is cunning and, as you've just said, have remarkable magical ability. She's managed to slip through my grasp before."

"Is that truly all there is to the story?" Fleur's tone made it clear she found his explanation inadequate, her disappointment practically radiating from her face.

"Miss Delacour," Bryan's voice carried a note of growing exasperation, "are you telling me you left your headmistress and fellow students behind just to come to my office and indulge in gossip?"

He leaned back in his chair, fixing her with a pointed look. " After such an exhausting journey, I suggest you return to your quarters and get some proper rest. Once you've recovered your strength, you can focus on submitting your name to the Goblet of Fire. I clearly recall your bold claims about becoming Beauxbatons' champion—I sincerely hope those words won't prove to be only empty boasting in the end."

"Oh, there isn't a single student at Beauxbatons who could possibly rival me!" Fleur said, tossing her gleaming ponytail with a flourish.

However, even she couldn't miss the growing displeasure in Bryan's expression, so she tempered her enthusiasm somewhat and shrugged. "I sought you out because we are guests here, aren't we, Mr. Watson? Surely Hogwarts should demonstrate proper hospitality. It would be most fitting to have someone show us around the castle properly, and you're the only person I'm acquainted with here."

Bryan pressed his lips together thoughtfully. He had to admit, Fleur had crafted quite a clever excuse for her presence.

"I must say, that seems like an entirely reasonable request, Bryan—" Just as Fleur was gazing at Bryan with eager anticipation, waiting for his acquiescence, an elderly voice tinged with unmistakable amusement drifted in from beyond the heavy oak door.

Watching Fleur's sudden transformation from confident young woman to flustered schoolgirl, Bryan smiled playfully. "Please grace us with your presence, Headmaster Dumbledore—"

The heavy oak door swung open, and Dumbledore entered with a smile on his face. Looking at Fleur, who had leapt to her feet with such haste that her chair scraped against the stone floor, Dumbledore widened his eyes in an expression of expertly feigned surprise.

"Ah, unless my aging eyes deceive me, you must be Miss Fleur Delacour—" He said, his smile warming the room as effectively as the crackling fire. "Madame Maxime spoke of you quite extensively during our earlier conversation. She thinks very highly of you, believing you're the most likely student to represent Beauxbatons in the Tournament."

"Oh, merci beaucoup, Headmaster Dumbledore—" Fleur managed to stammer out, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Madame Maxime had always told them that even though Bryan Watson was rising to prominence, the greatest wizard in magical Europe and even the Wizarding World was still Albus Dumbledore. Previously, she had scoffed at such claims, but now, truly facing Dumbledore, facing those penetrating and wise blue eyes, she felt the extraordinariness of this old man who had lived and shaped magical history for over a century.

"Ah, I do hope I haven't interrupted anything of importance, Bryan—" Dumbledore turned his attention to Bryan, his voice carrying a note of apology that might or might not have been genuine. "I've just managed to send Ludo on his way. I fear I may have overindulged in Madam Rosmerta's excellent mead at the welcoming banquet, and thought perhaps a walk with pleasant company might help settle things—"

"Oh, non, non, I shall take my leave immediately." Fleur's words tumbled out before Bryan could respond, her usual grace somewhat diminished as she hurriedly navigated around the sofa toward the door, her head bowed in embarrassment.

Yet after just two cautious steps across the worn stone floor, she halted abruptly, gathering what remained of her courage to look directly at Dumbledore's kind gaze. "Headmaster Dumbledore, might I ask when exactly you—"

"Our distinguished Headmaster had been standing guard outside the door for approximately two minutes while you were sharing those fascinating interpretations of Hogwarts traditions with me—" Bryan interjected teasingly, his voice rich with barely suppressed amusement.

"Ah, I didn't hear anything—" Dumbledore clasped his long-fingered hands over his belly, tilting his silver-haired head back to study the rough-hewn ceiling blocks with exaggerated interest, as if discovering an extraordinary mural hidden in their ancient patterns.

But then, with impeccable timing, he added, "However, I must say that Miss Delacour's suggestion regarding a tour holds considerable merit. We should indeed showcase the countless wonders of Hogwarts' long and illustrious history to our honored guests who have journeyed so far. And I believe you're a suitable choice for this, Bryan. No one knows Hogwarts better than you—"

The normally composed and confident Fleur, caught in the verbal crossfire between these two crafty men wizards, was like a little niffler trembling in fear. She had no idea how to handle this increasingly awkward situation.

"Very well—" Bryan's gaze settled on Fleur, who looked as though she would have given her entire vault at Gringotts for the ability to vanish through the floor to the level below. He released a slight sigh, equal parts resignation and amusement. "Regarding your request for a tour of Hogwarts, I will make the necessary arrangements, Miss Delacour. If there are no other matters requiring attention, I suggest you return to your carriage for some rest. You'll need enough energy for tomorrow's extensive exploration of the castle grounds—"

Fleur's hands clenched into frustrated fists as she shot Bryan what she clearly intended to be a withering glare, though it came across as sulkier than threatening. She turned on her heel to leave, but then, as if seized by a sudden inspiration, she stopped for a second time.

Before either of the two men could react, she spun around and darted toward Bryan's desk with surprising speed. Under the amused and curious gazes of both Dumbledore and Bryan, she snatched a piece of parchment from the stack on the desk and hastily scratched out her name and school affiliation.

"Bonne nuit, Mr. Watson, Headmaster Dumbledore—" Fleur clutched the precious parchment in her trembling hand as if it were a lifeline and fled from Bryan's office with the speed of someone escaping a rampaging dragon.

"Ah, what a remarkably spirited young lady—" Dumbledore's chuckle filled the room with warmth, his silver-white beard rustling gently in the cool breeze that had rushed through the briefly opened door. His knowing eyes fixed on Bryan, clearly anticipating some form of response to his observation.

"Perhaps, Headmaster Dumbledore, you should indeed take that digestive walk around the grounds to help process the excess food you consumed at the banquet—" Bryan replied with exaggerated politeness.

Whoosh— With a fluid motion of his wand, the heavy velvet curtains drew themselves closed one by one, their rings scraping softly against the ancient iron rods.

The roaring fire in the massive fireplace diminished to barely more than glowing embers, casting the room in shadows. Dumbledore made his way to the comfortable sofa and lowered himself onto it, positioning himself to face the wall now shrouded by the dark curtain. With another whispered spell, the curtain drew back, revealing a chaotic dance of lights and shadows upon the stone surface.

Bryan stepped forward and streams of brilliant silver light flowed from his wand like liquid moonbeams, merging with the wall itself.

The comfortable, almost casual atmosphere that had permeated the office during Fleur's visit evaporated instantly, replaced by an almost tangible tension that seemed to press down upon both wizards.

Studying the large, increasingly clear pattern of lights and shadows taking shape on the wall, Dumbledore's voice lost all its previous warmth as he asked with quiet intensity, "You're absolutely certain it won't be discovered, Bryan?"

"I've personally applied the most powerful concealment charms I know to the Omnioculars capturing these images. The possibility of detection at any magical frequency has been virtually eliminated—"

As Bryan completed his explanation, the final brilliant strand of silver light departed from his wand tip and merged with the flickering wall. The entire image shuddered once, like ripples in a disturbed pond, before turning into crystal clarity.

The scene that materialized before them showed the dimly lit entrance hall, where a determined Fleur Delacour, her face set with fierce resolve, stepped across the silvery age line that Dumbledore himself had drawn few hours ago and dropped the hastily written parchment with her name into the wooden goblet burning with blue-white flames!

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