Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Lockhart's face instantly turned bright red.

At that awkward moment, his wand suddenly slipped out of his pocket and fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

As he bent down to pick it up, his forehead slammed hard against the tray of a passing waiter.

"Watch out!" Furong pretended to be concerned and reached out her hand, but suddenly withdrew her fingertips just before touching her.

This feigned indifference caused Lockhart to completely lose his balance and land hard on the carpet, which was covered in spilled liquor.

Suppressed laughter rose from the surroundings.

Kane watched the farce unfold with a cold eye, noticing the contempt that flashed in Fleur's eyes.

That wasn't the look of a fifteen-year-old girl, but the expression of a seasoned hunter seeing his prey fall into his trap.

"Do you need any help, sir?" Kane asked calmly, without making any move.

Lockhart scrambled to his feet, his robe stained with champagne and sauce. "N-nothing! The floor was just too slippery..."

He frantically patted his clothes, only making the stain spread even wider. "I just remembered I have an interview! Excuse me!"

Watching Lockhart's disheveled retreating figure, Fleur turned to Kane: "Now you understand why I'm interested in you?"

Her voice regained its initial coolness, "A wizard who can remain sober when a Veela actively releases her charm is either born with an emotional deficiency..."

"Either he's a master of Occlumency," Kane continued, his grey-blue eyes fixed on Fleur.

Hibiscus's silver hair gleamed coldly under the magic lantern as she tilted her head slightly to examine Kane.

"A mere wizard can master Occlumency to this extent? Even Durmstrang graduates couldn't do that."

Her fingertips unconsciously traced the rim of the wine glass. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Kane's voice was like ice. "Miss Delacour seems to have a habit of getting to the bottom of everything."

Furong's red lips curled into a playful smile: "Unless you've needed to block out certain... intense emotional shocks since childhood."

Kane suddenly took half a step forward, a movement that made Fleur instinctively step back.

She now realized that this wizard, who was even younger than her, was more intimidating than she had imagined.

"Listen," Kane's voice was low, each word sharp as a razor.

"In the wizarding world, curiosity kills not only cats, but also meddlesome Beauxbatons students."

Hibiscus's blue-purple eyes widened slightly.

Just as the atmosphere was becoming tense, a familiar sound of footsteps came from behind.

"Kane," Lucius Malfoy's voice came through the phone, "I was just saying I'd come pick you up."

Narcissa held her husband's arm.

Looking at Kane and Fleur standing together, their light gold eyelashes cast scrutinizing glances.

Draco stood behind his parents, his grey-blue eyes scanning back and forth between Fleur and his brother, his face full of resentment.

Fleur curtsied gracefully: "Mr. Malfoy, Madam. I merely wish to inquire about your son's question regarding spells."

"Really?" Lucius forced a smile. "The heir to the Delacour family needs to consult with Hogwarts students? Does Madam Maxime know about this?"

Kane interrupted the conversation expressionlessly: "We're done talking."

He turned to his parents. "Fudge is looking for you, Father. He seems to want to talk about the recent amendments to the Muggle Articles Control Act."

Lucius's face instantly darkened.

This month, Arthur Weasley led the Magic Law Enforcement Team to raid Malfoy Manor three times.

They always use the pretext of searching for prohibited Muggle items.

"That redheaded pauper!" Draco couldn't help but exclaim. "Yesterday they even searched the house-elves' kitchens!"

Narcissa gently pressed her gloved fingers against her husband's arm: "Calm down, darling. Fudge is watching us."

Sure enough, the Minister of Magic was looking this way, his belly sticking out.

Standing beside him was Mr. Weasley, who had a big smile on his face.

Even more puzzling, several Ministry of Magic officials dressed in purple robes were recording the conversations of the guests.

"They tried to search your room last week," Lucius said to Kane in a low voice.

"As a result, three of my magic robes were burned to ashes by your protective spell."

A cold smile appeared on Kane's lips: "My room is none of the Ministry of Magic's business."

It seems Fudge has grown too big for his britches and is now willing to offend his former benefactors.

"Excuse me." Kane suddenly turned around.

His family members followed closely behind, leaving only Furong standing in place.

"Miss Delacour?"

A boy came closer, his ear tips bright red.

"May I have this dance?"

Furong didn't even look at him: "No."

Her gaze remained fixed on the departing Malfoy family.

Kane's tall, upright figure stood out from the crowd.

It's like a drawn sword stuck in a pile of silk pillows.

Lucius's voice drifted over: "...Fudge is getting more and more outrageous. This morning he actually demanded to see our house-elf employment records for the past ten years..."

"They're just jealous!" Draco's shrill voice was particularly grating. "Because of the Malfoys..."

Narcissa's single glance silenced Draco.

Kane remained silent.

On the other side of the banquet hall, Fudge was patting Mr. Weasley on the shoulder and laughing.

Mr. Weasley, however, frequently glanced at the Malfoys, his expression carrying a hint of righteousness.

Fleur narrowed her eyes; the political maneuvering within the Ministry of Magic was more interesting than she had imagined.

"I heard the Malfoy family has suffered considerable losses recently?"

A voice suddenly rang in Furong's ear.

Montclair, the head of the French Department of Magical Law Enforcement, appeared beside her at some point, holding a glass of champagne that changed color.

Hibiscus subtly distanced herself: "I'm not interested in British politics."

"A smart choice." Montclair took a sip of his drink.

"However, the person you were just talking to... Kane Malfoy has been frequently visiting the Devonshire moors lately, and that's where..."

"Just what?"

Montclair suddenly fell silent.

Fleur followed his gaze and saw Dumbledore staring coldly at them from across half the banquet hall.

The French official visibly flinched and hurriedly left.

Before leaving.

While adjusting his bow tie, he slipped a folded piece of parchment into Hibiscus's palm.

Furong accepted it without making a sound.

After the other person had gone far away, it was unfolded by candlelight—and written on it in elegant French:

"Midnight, the Rose Garden on the North Side. The truth you seek, about Malfoy, about Devonshire."

Furong's fingertips gently traced the edge of the paper, her blue-purple eyes narrowing slightly.

This is too deliberate—why would a high-ranking official from the French Ministry of Magic reveal this information to her?

Unless... this is a trap.

Furong twirled the wine glass in her hand thoughtfully.

Tonight's discovery warrants a letter to my grandmother—about a boy who can resist Veela charms, and a family targeted by the Ministries of Magic of two nations.