Madame Maxime and Viktor Krum both left from Bryan's office.
Before stepping through the doorway and out of sight, both of them cast a final, lingering glance back at Bryan and Fleur, who remained seated on the sofas in the warm lamplight of the office.
Madame Maxime's gaze was fixed primarily on Fleur, her face was softening with maternal concern. Her eyes, magnified slightly by her spectacles were filled with sympathy and affection that transcended her role as headmistress. Clearly, she was well aware of Fleur's profound infatuation with Bryan.
The emotion in Viktor's eyes was simpler and more straightforward—he was somewhat worried that Fleur's request to stay behind was motivated purely by a desire to extract additional information from Professor Watson about the final competition task.
Click—
After the door lock's spring mechanism snapped shut, the office fell into a period of quiet stillness.
Fleur sat gracefully on the plush sofa. She gazed at Bryan with eyes that held both the intense, consuming heat of flames and the gentle, persistent flow of a mountain stream.
"If you're hoping to extract some extra information about the competition tasks from me, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Fleur," Bryan said, leaning back against the soft sofa cushions.
His long fingers interlaced loosely in his lap, and he smiled warmly at her.
"I haven't had the chance to congratulate you yet—"
Fleur responded with a knowing look, of course not believing for a moment that Bryan genuinely suspected her of trying to spy for information. She understood him well enough by now to recognize his deflections and defensive tactics. This was merely a playful remark, a way to keep the conversation light and maintain emotional distance.
She wrinkled her nose in an expression that was both charming and slightly reproachful. Her silver-bright hair spilled over her shoulders like molten moonlight. In her blue eyes, which had captivated countless admirers throughout her life, shone unconcealed admiration for Bryan.
"You've solved another crisis for Hogwarts," she said, her melodious voice was carrying genuine awe and respect. "I've never met a wizard like you, Bryan. It's as if nothing can possibly stump you! Every obstacle that appears before you, you simply... overcome it, as though it were inevitable."
The corners of Bryan's lips twitched, forming a restrained smile.
He didn't respond with false modesty, nor did he pursue the topic Fleur had introduced with such admiration. He simply nodded graciously in acknowledgment, before deliberately shifting the conversation.
"What did you want to discuss with me, Fleur?"
Having spent considerable time around Bryan over the course of the Triwizard Tournament year, observing him in various contexts and situations, Fleur had grown accustomed to his habit of deflecting whenever conversations veered into emotionally sensitive territory.
Beyond an inward sigh that made her chest rise and fall subtly beneath her uniform, Fleur showed no outward disappointment. She straightened her posture slightly, adjusting her position on the sofa, and her form-fitting blue silk Beauxbatons uniform immediately highlighted her graceful figure even more perfectly.
"Oh, it's just something I wanted to consult you about," Fleur said, carefully adopting a casual tone. Yet Bryan could detect beneath this facade a trace of both pride and challenge.
"What is it?" Bryan asked coolly.
"It's like this—" Fleur tilted her chin up slightly. "I've already discussed this matter with my father and mother. We've had several conversations about it, and I've secured their full support.
They've agreed that after I graduate from Beauxbatons this summer, I can stay here in Britain to work and build my career here rather than returning to France as originally planned."
Fleur raised a single finger to her pink-colored lips in a thoughtful gesture. Noticing a flicker of helplessness pass through the depths of Bryan's purple eyes, she revealed a mischievous smile.
"I'm deliberating, Bryan—hmm whether I should apply to join the British Ministry of Magic… or perhaps your Learning Machine Workshop would also be an excellent company to work for, wouldn't it? I wanted to seek your opinion."
Silence suddenly fell over the office.
Bryan said nothing for a moment, simply watching Fleur with a complicated expression.
Though he had already reflected on this many times before, after Fleur's statement, the same feeling arose in Bryan's heart once more.
Whether through subtle hints or increasingly direct statements over the months they'd known each other, he had attempted to reject her feelings. Yet Fleur remained utterly undeterred, never losing her resilience and courage when it came to matters of the heart.
Bryan gazed at this extraordinary girl whose appearance and approach to love were both impeccable—her beauty undeniable, her courage remarkable, her persistence both admirable and troubling. His lips moved slightly, as though forming words he couldn't quite bring himself to speak aloud.
Undeniably, despite all his careful defenses and rational objections, he was somewhat moved by her unwavering determination.
After a long silence, Bryan's lowered gaze finally returned to Fleur's bright, beautiful face. He spoke slowly in a soft voice.
"I don't particularly endorse your choice, Fleur. I think you should understand why—"
"I certainly understand," Fleur interjected smoothly, clearly having anticipated exactly what Bryan would say. She cut him off before he could continue with his inevitable objections and concerns.
"You want to say that the Dark Lord has returned, that Britain's magical community is no longer safe the way it once was—" Fleur spoke calmly but with absolute resolution.
After smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt with her fingers, she looked at Bryan with calm determination burning in her eyes.
"But I want you to know, Bryan that I've made up my mind to stay here."
With that statement, Fleur didn't wait for Bryan's response or give him the opportunity to raise further objections. She left the sofa area and strode toward the door with her chin held high.
The door closed behind her with a soft but final-sounding click, leaving Bryan alone in the sudden emptiness of his office.
At noon, or what had been noon when this conversation began, the scorching sunlight flooded through every window of the office space, bathing the entire room in dazzling, almost oppressive gold that made everything seem to shimmer and waver like a mirage.
Bryan suddenly felt somewhat stifled, as though the very air had grown thick and difficult to breathe. He irritably tugged at his collar with restless fingers, loosening the cloth that seemed suddenly constricting, his brow slightly furrowed as he stared out the window at the distant mountains.
Under the blazing sun that beat down mercilessly from the cloudless sky, even those normally majestic peaks appeared somewhat lifeless despite their verdant green covering, as though the heat had drained the vitality from everything it touched.
After a long while, a deep sigh echoed through the empty room. Bryan slowly rose from the sofa and departed from his office.
The afternoon passed in a strange blur of distraction and attempted focus.
As if in an instant, the sun fell from its zenith in the heavens down behind the horizon, sinking into the infinite cosmic abyss beyond the Scottish mountains, brushing the sky in tints of orange and deep purple before darkness claimed everything.
But with midsummer approaching rapidly, bringing with it the longest days of the year, Hogwarts at early nightfall was still wrapped in scorching heat.
The young wizards who had ventured out to run their laps on the field, waiting until after sunset when the temperature became marginally more bearable were already drenched in sweat after just a couple of circuits around the grounds.
Bryan spent the afternoon in Severus's office deep in the dungeons, which, being underground and surrounded by stone walls was sufficiently cool to provide relief from the heat above.
Unusually, a thought arose in Bryan's mind—he wanted to discuss with Severus the troubles that this girl Fleur had brought him.
However, considering that this particular topic might cause Severus particular distress given his own tragic history, Bryan restrained his impulse.
"By the way, has Voldemort made any interesting moves recently?" After rambling about various inconsequential topics for most of the afternoon, dancing around subjects neither of them truly cared about in that moment, Bryan finally asked a question related to serious matters.
"You know what he's been planning recently, Bryan," Severus said without looking up from his work.
He tapped his wand with precision on the figs arranged in the wooden frame on his cluttered desk, watching with his usual expressionless demeanor as the fig skins peeled away from the flesh in perfectly spiral strips before flying up to the iron rack suspended above to dry properly, all while speaking to Bryan in that distinctive drawling voice.
"Tsk, tsk—" Bryan shook his head with an ambiguous exclamation.
This casual, almost careless attitude, however, genuinely puzzled Severus enough to make him pause in his work.
"You're not worried at all?" Severus asked, tilting his head to one side and eyeing Bryan, taking in the man who had rather rudely seized his office chair and was now lounging with his feet propped up on the desk as though he owned the place. "You think the Dark Lord will fail in his attempt."
"No—" Bryan interlaced his fingers behind his head in a gesture of complete relaxation. He gazed thoughtfully at the large glass jar of Ashwinder eggs hanging beneath the deep brown ceiling slabs, a peculiar smile was appearing on his face that Severus couldn't quite interpret.
"I believe he'll succeed, actually. If Voldemort can't even orchestrate this properly, then he won't accomplish anything significant."
"In that case—" Severus's attention shifted completely from his fig preparation as he looked with suspicion at the utterly relaxed and contented Bryan, trying to understand this contradiction.
"Why aren't you worried at all? You know that if the Dark Lord succeeds in rescuing his Death Eaters from Azkaban, the magical world will lose what little peace it still maintains. Yet you seem almost eager for this to happen."
"I am indeed eager," Bryan said with a smile, knowing Severus would be confused.
"I have a plan, you see. Whether it can be executed perfectly depends entirely on whether Voldemort can successfully rescue those loyal Death Eaters of his."
"What plan?" Severus immediately pressed, leaning forward slightly with interest. "What exactly are you scheming, Bryan?"
Bryan's smile widened, clearly enjoying Severus's rare display of curiosity, and just as he was about to say something, his expression suddenly changed. He turned his face toward the stone wall.
Before he could even rise from his casually sprawled position in the chair, a gleaming silver phoenix materialized through the wall and hovered before Bryan.
"Ah, you've returned, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Good evening, Bryan, and Severus. I trust I haven't interrupted your conversation?"
Severus couldn't be bothered to respond and returned to processing his figs.
"Of course not, Headmaster. We were merely chatting," Bryan said, stretching leisurely as he finally removed his feet from Severus's desk and stood up. He knew that Dumbledore certainly had important matters to discuss with him.
"I'll come to your office straightaway, Headmaster. Let's speak in person."
The silver phoenix dipped its elegant head in acknowledgment before dissolving into wisps of light that faded gradually into nothing.
A dozen minutes later, Bryan appeared in Dumbledore's office at the top of the tower.
When he saw Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, looking travel-worn with dust on his robes and a trace of worry etched between his silvery brows despite his attempt at composure, Bryan immediately understood the situation without needing any explanation.
"So, it failed again this time?" Bryan asked quietly, closing the door behind himself and moving into the office.
"Ah, you've already guessed, Bryan?" Dumbledore smiled wearily and seemed to come back to life from his statue-like state of exhausted contemplation.
He leaned back in his high-backed chair with a soft creak of wood, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. His bright blue gaze, though dimmed slightly by disappointment and fatigue, settled on the intricate patterns of the office's domed ceiling as though seeking answers in those familiar swirls and constellations painted there long ago.
"That's right, I'm afraid. Just as you predicted with such unfortunate accuracy, my old friend—Professor Horace Slughorn still refuses to reveal the truth to me."
Pulling out a chair that faced the desk, Bryan sat down across from Dumbledore and also fell into thoughtful silence.
Dumbledore had been attempting to breach this man's psychological barriers for some time now, making multiple visits and trying various approaches, but had consistently met with failure at every turn.
The troubling part, the aspect that made this continued failure particularly concerning was that this person might possess critically important information about Voldemort's methods and secrets.
"What if—" The flickering candlelight from the numerous candles throughout the office casted uncertain shadows across Bryan's face, making his expression difficult to read.
"I try to make contact with him instead?"
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