Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 286 Hibiscus Delacour

"Someone who has never cared about magical creatures would obviously not understand the habits of birds and snakes, which means he only started learning about them in the last month."

Vaughn picked up a fragment of eggshell, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So much humiliation and hardship, all for the sake of stealing an egg?"

To be honest, Vaughn couldn't quite figure out what Tom's remnant soul, hiding in the notebook, was thinking.

While the crazed Voldemort was certainly terrifying, Tom Riddle, who maintained his rationality and prudence before going mad, was in some ways even more troublesome.

Because it's unpredictable!

"Ha, are we going to have to engage in a battle of wits from afar again?"

Despite this thought, Vaughn did not feel discouraged.

He certainly hates the unknown, but he is never afraid of it!

Just as Vaughn had collected fragments of Anna the Bird Snake's eggshell, preparing to investigate why Tom had stolen the egg.

In faraway France, in the Pyrenees Mountains, in the region from the Sombert Pass to the Garonne Valley, lies a valley shrouded in magic, completely invisible to Muggles.

The magnificent Beauxbatons Castle is nestled amidst the snow-capped mountains and icy lake.

This area belongs to the Middle Pyrenees, with towering peaks and steep mountains, resulting in valleys with diverse climatic conditions.

It was past noon when Fleur Delacour finished her afternoon nap and got out of bed. A thick rain was falling, but the distant snow-capped mountains were still reflecting the sunlight, looking golden.

Having studied in the castle for five years, she had grown accustomed to the contradictory climate of the valley, to the gentle Mediterranean breezes that blew in winter, and to the ever-present, ever-evaporating moisture that was blocked by the mountains in spring and autumn, drifting like inverted clouds from the valley to the ridge.

She tiptoed out of bed and walked to the mirror.

In the mirror, a beautiful girl, still drowsy but still radiant, is reflected. Her long, flowing hair is like countless silver strands soaked in moonlight, and her azure eyes are like the clear, smooth lake outside the castle, reflecting the blue sky.

Her fair skin was like solidified cream, with a faint, healthy rosy glow.

She admired her own appearance for a while, then practiced her smile in front of the mirror, trying to be dignified, reserved, and elegant, before going to wash up.

She was most proud of and cherished her appearance. Call it narcissism or arrogance, but in her view, it was a talent she inherited from her grandmother, a Veela. Since it was a talent, why should she resist it?

After washing her face and applying some light makeup, Hibiscus, following the etiquette she had always been taught, draped herself in Beauxbatons' signature light silk robe. The light blue color, under the smooth texture of the silk, seemed as ethereal as smoke.

Stand tall, back straight, and walk out of the dormitory.

The pure white marble corridors of Beauxbatons Castle are magnificent and transparent under the crystal chandeliers, without a single shadow. The floor is so shiny that it reflects light, and the wedge heels of Mary Jane shoes make a crisp, rhythmic sound when they step on it.

"Hibiscus, good afternoon."

Good afternoon, Ms. Delacour.

Students passing by greeted her, and Furong responded with a polite smile and a sense of distance. Just like her name suggests, she was a flower of the palace, noble and beautiful, but only to be admired from afar.

Beauxbatons has no divisions; all students are grouped by year.

Therefore, the dormitories are also standardized, divided into male dormitory towers and female dormitory towers.

Yes, Beauxbatons is not an all-girls school—although this is often the case, it's obviously impossible.

As she walked out of the women's dormitory tower, Fleur called out to a boy who had greeted her, "Matthie, is Madame Maxime still with those two visitors?"

The boy named Matthieu was actually in sixth grade, but he dared not be negligent in front of Fleur Delacour, who was in fifth grade.

Who could blame them when the other student was Principal Maxim's favorite student?

"Yes," he replied. "The headmistress has just shown them around the Great Library, and now they should visit the fountain in the courtyard named after Nicolas Flamel and Perenais Flamel."

Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Pereñar Flamel, were both graduates of Beauxbatons.

For over 600 years, the couple has been continuously donating to their alma mater to maintain the luxurious Beauxbatons castle.

But in reality, Fleur had quite a few complaints about the two men—they actually chose to live in seclusion in that godforsaken place of England instead of leaving their last legacy in France!

She muttered to herself, then gave a haughty "hmm" and turned to walk towards the courtyard.

That attitude made Matthias shake his head, but he was used to it. France—or rather, Beauxbatons—never cared about bloodlines, especially after Madam Maxime took office, when she had a particular fondness for children of mixed races with magical creatures.

Fleur, a Veela of mixed race and stunningly beautiful, has been the apple of Ms. Maxim's eye since she enrolled in school, and is absolutely adored by her.

In such an environment, everyone was already thankful that Furong's temper didn't become so arrogant as to beat and scold them at every turn.

Hibiscus, of course, had no idea what Mattie was thinking. She walked into the courtyard, where the fine rain was still falling, but it was no obstacle for the wizard.

From afar, she saw Mrs. Maxim's enormous figure, with Mrs. Silva and Dumbledore, who appeared as small as children in comparison, admiring her, as they visited a magnificent fountain that radiated iridescence.

Hibiscus cast a spell on herself to protect herself from water and fire, then transformed her wand into an umbrella and held it above her head before walking over.

Before she even got close, she heard Dumbledore's cheerful voice: "—Yes, of course I remember this place, Orim. About 60 years ago, Nico and Perenaar brought me here many times. I was impressed by the healing and beautifying effects of this fountain. Unfortunately, more than 20 years ago, when I asked Nico to bring me here again for my 90th birthday, he ruthlessly refused me."

"He said, 'Albus, you're as old as a dried-out orange peel; don't expect it to be of any use anymore.' Alas, that old mummy simply couldn't understand the suffering of an old man!"

Furong: "————"

It's hard to imagine that this crazy, outspoken old man is actually the headmaster of Hogwarts and the most powerful white wizard in Europe.

Furong secretly complained.

From over there came the hearty laughter of the plump Principal of Castorbuscher, Ms. Silva. The haughty Fleur didn't have a good impression of her either.

Rude South Americans, not elegant at all!

Just then, hearing footsteps, Ms. Maxim turned around, saw her, and quickly waved: "Come here, darling, have you rested well?"

"I've rested well. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you because I wasn't feeling well, ma'am."

Furong walked quickly to Madam Maxim's side, and then, like a baby, was pulled into her arms, sinking into the headmistress's fluffy fur.

It's hard to resist a lady's affection.

Fleur peeked out with difficulty, suppressing her inner thoughts, and politely greeted the other two headmasters: "Headmaster Dumbledore, Mrs. Silva, good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, beautiful girl." Although it wasn't the first time she had seen Fleur, the charm she inherited from the Veela still amazed Mrs. Silva. She winked at Dumbledore: "Albus, you'd better keep a close eye on your students at this Potions Exchange, lest their budding hearts fall for you."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Of course, of course, but if it really happens, it might not be a bad thing. You may not know, but Hogwarts also has a trump card."

"Vaughn Weasley?"

"Yes, his charm is unparalleled for a young girl!"

whispering sound!

Hibiscus, nestled in Ms. Maxim's arms, rolled her eyes speechlessly.

Vaughn Weasley.

This is the name of the person of the same age that Furong has heard the most in the past year—although they are said to be the same age, she is actually almost 4 years older, which is what Furong is particularly indignant about.

Why does everyone fawn over a 12-year-old kid?

Over the past year, she has lost count of how many times she has seen his name in the French edition of Le Prophet.

At first, there were only sporadic reports.

The media, especially those media outlets bolstered by a century of Anglo-French friendship, are always good at reflecting on things like developing wolfsbane drugs or establishing C.

[England produced Vaughn Weasley, but what about France?]

What followed was a scathing critique of France's current magical education policy, claiming that the new generation of young wizards were completely wasted.

Fleur, who had just turned 16 during the summer vacation, naturally did not understand that the media's so-called reflections and the so-called educational issues they were promoting were actually partisan struggles and a pretext for the opposition party of the French Ministry of Magic to attack the ruling party.

In her innocent world, this is the story of "someone else's child".

Naturally, people's opinion of Vaughn Weasley was not good.

Then, during the summer vacation, the name Vaughn Weasley somehow invaded her home—her father, Mr. Delacour, who worked for the Werewolf Countermeasures Committee at the French Ministry of Magic, suddenly started paying close attention to everything about him.

For two months, Mr. Delacour kept talking about things like "Weasley" and "the international trade system for wolfsbane medicine."

Even her sister, Gabrielle, became a fangirl after seeing a picture of Vaughn Weasley.

hateful!

I finally made it to the end of summer vacation, thinking I could finally escape Weasley's shadow, but ever since school started, news about him has never stopped.

Newspapers and reports were practically shoving the other person's name into her head.

Fleur didn't understand what the reform of the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical course meant for France, which borders the Balkans, nor did she understand why those adults were so concerned about the werewolf sport in England, as if seeing any answers there could solve any problem.

That was fine, I originally thought that the other party was far away in England and there shouldn't be any real contact between us.

Unexpectedly, about two weeks ago, Madam Maxim suddenly asked her if she would like to attend a potions exchange event at Hogwarts, led by Vaughn Weasley.

Of course she didn't want to participate.

Unfortunately, reality doesn't revolve around her. Over the past two weeks, Dumbledore has been coming more and more frequently, until yesterday when Mrs. Silva also arrived.

Fleur didn't know what they talked about, only that after Ms. Maxim walked out of the conference hall, she represented Beauxbatons to announce their participation in the Potions Exchange Program and decided that she would lead the team.

Fleur's discontent and her conflict with Weasley were completely ignited.

No one cares about her thoughts. Everyone around her is like this now, always comparing and joking with Weasley, whom she has never met or had any interaction with.

It was as if she were something subordinate to her!

This afternoon, she used the excuse of feeling unwell to stay with Ms. Maxim and entertain guests, which was actually a small, silent protest.

But it seems the adults don't care.

Furong was very depressed.

Ms. Maxim, accompanied by Fleur, toured Beauxbatons Castle with Dumbledore and Mrs. Silva until the two old friends grew tired of the sightseeing. Only then did she arrange for them to stay in a guest room on the top floor of the castle, on the same floor as her office.

Ms. Maxim called the students to tidy up the guest rooms.

Unlike Hogwarts, which has a more relaxed system with a board of directors, Beauxbatons' headmaster has unlimited power and a strict hierarchical order. Although not explicitly stated by law, all Beauxbatons students are effectively the headmaster's servants.

Until they graduate!

After the students who had been summoned had tidied and cleaned the guest rooms, Madam Maxime, arm in arm with Fleur, said, "Albus, Silva, please rest for a while. To celebrate the cooperation, Beauxbatons has prepared a grand banquet, which will be attended by officials from the French Ministry of Magic, as well as those in potions and international magical exchanges."

Dumbledore and Silva naturally went along with their host's wishes.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries and bidding farewell to the two, Ms. Maxim led Fleur back to her office, closed the door, and Fleur obediently stepped forward to help her take off her heavy fur coat and hang it on the hanger.

Inside the office, the roaring fire in the fireplace dispelled the chill of the rainy day.

Maxim breathed a sigh of relief. As a formal event, the potion exchange couldn't be accomplished with just verbal promises from the three headmasters; everything had to be put into a contract.

The contract was signed at the Anetto Peak in the Pyrenees Mountains, at an altitude of over 3000 meters, which must have been freezing cold for her, but as the headmaster of Beauxbatons, she hadn't dared to show it in front of Dumbledore and Silva.

Although Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, and Castro have always maintained a friendly relationship, with each new headmaster visiting each other to strengthen their friendship.

"This matter is finally resolved."

While warming herself by the fire, Ms. Maxim said, "The three of us combined represent almost half the world. Next, we just need to contact other schools step by step—only a very few will be a bit difficult, such as Durmstrang. Karkaroff was a Death Eater. More than ten years ago, when Voldemort fell, he escaped punishment by betraying his accomplices."

"Dumbledore tried to contact him several times, but received no response. It's unclear whether he was afraid to face Dumbledore or afraid that the pure-blood family he had betrayed would harm him after he arrived in England—"

Furong listened silently.

Everyone in Beauxbatons knew that Ms. Maxim doted on her.

They assumed that she was favored by the headmistress because of her Veela lineage, but Fleur herself knew that this favor was not only based on personal feelings; Maxim was grooming her as a successor.

When the two were alone, the headmistress would tell Furong in detail what she was doing, her thoughts, ideas, and analyses, just like she is doing now.

Cultivate her experience and life skills in a relatively gentle way.

Normally, Furong would speak up and engage in conversation with the headmistress, but today she didn't want to say anything at all.

After talking to herself for a while, Maxim finally noticed her unusual behavior. He straightened up slightly from his large frame, which had been slumped on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and looked at his most beloved girl with concern: "Darling, do you still not want to go to Hogwarts?"

Furong nodded gently.

Maxim asked in confusion, "Why?"

Fleur, of course, dared not admit that she harbored resentment towards Vaughn Weasley. Snuggling closer to her, she feigned resentment and made up a random excuse: "I don't like Hogwarts. I've heard that castle is huge and dark, filled with horribly ugly armor and tapestries, and ghosts. They don't even have a woodland fairy orchestra playing music while they eat!"

That sounds like she's being spoiled.

But Ms. Maxim didn't think there was anything wrong with it. Fleur's personality was something she had spoiled her into. She comforted her, "It's only a few months. Just bear with it and it will pass. Only you can lead the team in Beauxbatons, my dear."

Fleur pouted, "Do we really have to attend that Potions Exchange? Madam, Beauxbatons' forte has never been potions, but alchemy. Attending this Potions Exchange is pointless; we'd be better off having Dumbledore persuade Nicolas Flamel to come back!"

Listening to Furong's complaints, Maxim did not scold her. He simply stroked her soft, shiny silver hair with one hand, paused for a while, and then sighed, "Something is changing in this world, child."

"?"

Furong raised her head, her eyes full of confusion.

Maxim didn't elaborate, stroking her hair while gazing absently at the leaping flames in the fireplace. After a moment, she said, "Some time ago, Dumbledore took me to see some things and gather some information. Since it's not confirmed yet, I won't tell you for now. You just need to know that the closed-off situation where each country acts independently in the past will most likely change."

"This change is not limited to the magical world, but to the entire world. No one can say for sure whether it is good or bad. The only thing that can be foreseen is that isolation is probably not enough to deal with the problems to be faced in the future. Sooner or later, all countries will have to move towards cooperation."

"In my mind, the Potions Exchange is actually a rehearsal to see if there are any countries and regions that participate, such as Hogwarts, that have potential for future cooperation. Besides, you're wrong about something. Beauxbatons is indeed more skilled in alchemy, but some of the potions techniques pioneered by Vaughn Weasley are not useless to us."

As she spoke, she waved.

On a nearby desk piled high with documents, a magazine was rummaged through the air and flew over.

The magazine was thin, looking like a folded newspaper. Maxim's fingers lightly brushed over it, and the magazine unfolded with her movement, the pages rustling as it finally stopped in the middle.

Looking at it, Furong saw an English magazine, seemingly an academic journal, with a striking paper title printed on the page.

As powerful European nations, the English and French share a deep "friendship" and often speak each other's languages. Fleur is no exception; she speaks English.

[Techniques for analyzing and extracting material properties, and corresponding strategies for developing magical effects]

Below the title, Furong saw that annoying name—Vaughn Weasley!

"This is—" she raised her head.

Ms. Maxim: "Do you remember the magic extraction method I showed you last semester?"

"I remember, but didn't you say back then that that method relied heavily on the wizard's potion-making talent and wasn't very valuable?"

"The magic extraction method is of little value. How many wizards in the world have potion-making talent as strong as Vaughn Weasley? But this paper he published half a month ago is different—"

As he spoke, Maxim drew his wand from his wide robe sleeves and tapped it lightly.

As the silent spell was cast, Hibiscus saw a box on the desk open, and a bunch of strange materials flew out and floated to the side of the two of them.

Maxim's massive body stood up, and his immense magic changed the color of the flames in the fireplace, turning them a deep blue, like celestial fire.

Under Fleur's questioning and nervous gaze, she raised her wand and chanted a complex spell:

”nlyi ercion e purificionem! "

The meaning of the spell was very complex, and the difficulty of casting it seemed to be very high. Fleur saw that Madam Maxim's hand holding the wand trembled slightly, and her olive-colored face turned slightly pale.

However, despite the difficulty, she succeeded.

An invisible magic enveloped the floating and swirling materials in an instant, and the next second, they crumbled—no, not crumbled!

Instead, they became illusory, as if their transparency had been adjusted. They still retained their original form, but their mode of existence had changed. It seemed that some force was deconstructing their forms, trying to peel away their physical exterior and expose what was inside.

Soon, Furong saw specks of light emerging from within the materials.

In the blink of an eye, almost all the materials were surrounded by misty, seemingly ethereal points of light.

The reason I say "almost" is because Furong noticed that some materials remained unchanged.

"call-

""

Madam Maxim took a breath, slowly lowered her wand, and looked at the countless floating specks of light. She said to Fleur, "In that paper, Vaughn Weasley revealed a half-finished spell he invented. This spell bypasses the limitations of potion-making talent, allowing any wizard to freely use magic extraction to extract the properties of materials."

The hibiscus, too, stared wide-eyed at the shimmering lights.

Last semester, when Ms. Maxim had her try the magic extraction method, she tried her best to sense what the so-called "properties" were, no matter how hard she tried, following the method provided in Vaughn Weasley's paper.

If it weren't for some famous apothecaries in the French magical world claiming that magic extraction methods were indeed effective, she would have thought it was all a hoax.

Like her, Ms. Maxim was not particularly talented in potion-making during that experiment.

result----