Chapter 106: Delacour Manor
Chapter 106: Delacour Manor
Harry never considered the title of the Chosen One to be a significant achievement. He always believed that people like Sherlock were the ones truly worthy of admiration among Wizards.
So when it came to praising Sherlock, he felt even more proud than when praising himself.
Fleur listened to Harry’s words, staring at Sherlock’s profile for a long time, trying to place where she had seen him before.
After a moment of recollection, she finally remembered.
“I remember now. A while back, the _Astronomer Daily_ (a French magic newspaper) reported on you, mentioning you as the only Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts in nearly thirty years to serve a second term.”
Sherlock found the report rather speechless.
But upon reflection, it made sense. Compared to the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk, which were unknown to non-Hogwarts students, the fact that someone had managed to overcome the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was indeed more eye-catching.
Upon learning that both Sherlock and Harry were well-known figures in Britain, Fleur’s initially wary demeanor relaxed somewhat.
To her, one was a respected, albeit young, professor at a magic school, and the other was the boy known as the Chosen One. It seemed unlikely that these two would pose any threat to her.
After spending time in close proximity to Fleur, Harry gradually broke free from the spell-like feeling she had cast over him.
Now, as he looked at the girl, he found that apart from her exceptional beauty, her personality was proud and even somewhat rude, leaving him puzzled about why he had been so captivated by her before.
At that moment, Sherlock suddenly asked,
“Do you have veela blood?”
Fleur showed no shame. She lifted her head proudly and admitted,
“My grandmother was a veela, so I have one-quarter veela blood.”
Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.
“No wonder.”
Harry, who usually spent his time playing and never bothered with extra-curricular knowledge, was thoroughly confused.
“What’s a veela?”
“You can think of them as humans with a special bloodline,” Sherlock explained. “In the classification of various countries, veela are considered a branch of humans. However, they are naturally endowed with beauty that surpasses ordinary people, and they possess a charm that can captivate the opposite sex at first sight, making them fall deeply in love. However, there’s more to it.”
Sherlock had intended to mention that when veela get angry, they transform into harpies, a type of bird-woman, to teach Harry that beautiful things are not always as perfect as they seem and often have a darker side. But given Fleur’s presence, he decided against it and left out the latter part.
Harry’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“So, does Miss Delacour have that kind of enchanting magic in her?”
Sherlock tapped Harry’s head, signaling him to be more careful with his words, as the term "enchanting" could be misinterpreted.
“Why didn’t you fall for it, Professor?” Harry, realizing he had likely been charmed by the half-veela, asked Sherlock, puzzled.
Sherlock wasn’t sure why Fleur’s charm didn’t affect him. Perhaps her ability wasn’t as strong as a full veela’s, or maybe his own soul was strong enough to resist such enchantment. In any case, he remained unaffected.
“Because I, your professor, have seen and experienced much more than a young whelp like you.”
Fleur, however, was not paying attention to their conversation. She seemed lost in thought, her face darkened, and her mood appeared to be sour.
Harry thought it might be his fault and stammered an apology.
“I’m sorry, Miss Delacour, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Fleur shook her head.
“It’s not your fault. It’s because my wand was stolen.”
Sherlock didn’t understand the significance of her words. While wands were important to Wizards, they weren’t particularly rare. Wand shops were plentiful, and a new wand could be bought for less than 10 galleons. For a Wizarding family as wealthy as the Delacours, it would be no problem to provide a different wand every day of the year if they wished.
“Does that wand have a special meaning to you?” Sherlock asked hesitantly.
“The wand’s core is made from my grandmother’s hair,” Fleur said, her lips pressed together.
Sherlock sighed sympathetically.
“That is indeed a very meaningful wand. But if you didn’t catch the thief on the spot, the chances of getting it back are slim. Try to stay positive.”
The chances were slim before, but now they’re much greater!
Harry silently retorted in his mind after hearing Sherlock’s words.
Fleur’s mood remained sour, and the rest of the journey was quiet. Sherlock changed the radio station to a French folk channel and continued driving calmly, while Harry fiddled with the camera, having discovered a newfound joy in photography but hesitant to use the limited film.
A sudden, subtle noise caught Sherlock's attention.
He glanced at the rearview mirror and noticed Fleur's shy and flustered gaze quickly avert from his.
Harry, oblivious to the tension, was still fiddling with the camera's zoom function. Sherlock continued driving as if nothing had happened, but he was carefully observing the shops on both sides of the road. Not long after, he pulled over at a roadside diner.
Seeing the car stop in front of the diner, Harry looked puzzled.
"We just had lunch, Professor."
Sherlock shot him a glare.
"Are you complaining? I'm offering you afternoon tea."
After they got out of the car, Sherlock glanced at Fleur, who was still sitting in the back seat, hesitating to get out.
"Come on, it's on me."
Fleur, of course, realized that Sherlock had stopped at the diner for her sake. She bit her lip and got out of the car, walking beside Sherlock and whispering, barely audible.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Sherlock had no ulterior motives; he just felt sorry for the girl. Besides, they had at least two more days of travel to Paris, and he didn't want her to go hungry during that time.
At the diner, Sherlock and Harry each ordered a dessert, while he watched Fleur sip on a fish stew. It was clear she loved the taste, though Sherlock and Harry weren't particularly fond of it.
After she finished eating, Sherlock lent her his wand so she could clean herself up with a cleaning spell before they continued their journey.
They arrived in the central French city of Clermont-Ferrand by evening and found a hotel to rest for the night. The next morning, they had breakfast and resumed their trip.
By midday, they reached the outskirts of Paris.
Fleur's mood visibly improved as they neared their destination. After their lunch, she had let her guard down and chatted happily with Sherlock and Harry. She even invited them to visit her home for a few days.
Sherlock and Harry naturally accepted the invitation. Paris was their final destination, and having a local guide was far better than wandering around aimlessly.
As the capital of France, Paris was much more bustling than other cities.
Following Fleur's directions, Sherlock drove to a small town just outside Paris. In the most secluded corner of the town lay the Delacour family estate.
Compared to the Burrow, the Delacour estate was much larger. It was clearly protected by a Muggle-Repelling Charm, so ordinary people passing by wouldn't even notice the prominent medieval manor.
Sherlock parked the car outside, and Fleur led them into the Delacour estate.
They were met by a house-elf.
"Miss! You're finally back!" the house-elf exclaimed, looking anxiously at Fleur. "Madam has been worrying for days. If you hadn't returned tonight, she and the master would have gone out to look for you."
"There were some mishaps on the way, Cheekly."
Fleur introduced Sherlock and Harry to Cheekly with a smile.
"This is our house-elf, Cheekly. These are Sherlock and Harry. If it weren't for their help, I might still be wandering around somewhere."
Someone inside the house heard the commotion and came out. It was a little girl with silver-white hair, as delicate as a porcelain doll.
"Sister!"
She ran down the stairs and threw herself into Fleur's arms.
"I'm back, Gabrielle."
Fleur spun her around a couple of times.
Then, an elegant and beautiful woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Fleur, emerged. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears upon seeing Fleur.
"Weren't you supposed to go to Madame Maxime to get a letter of introduction? Why are you only coming back now?"
"Something unexpected happened, Mother." Fleur gently put Gabrielle down. She hesitated to mention losing her wand right away and instead introduced Sherlock and Harry.
"These are Sherlock and Harry. Thanks to their help, I was able to return today. They plan to stay in Paris for a few days, so I invited them to our home."
Sherlock extended his hand to Mrs. Delacour.
"My name is Sherlock Forrest, and this is my student, Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Delacour."
Mrs. Delacour expressed her gratitude.
"Thank you for helping my daughter. She can be a bit difficult, so I appreciate your patience."
Even little Gabrielle curtsied and said in a clear, sweet voice.
"Thank you for helping my sister."
The Delacours were a well-mannered family. While Fleur could be a bit haughty, they were generally pleasant to be around.
After welcoming Sherlock and Harry into the living room, Mrs. Delacour asked Fleur and Gabrielle to entertain their guests while she prepared lunch.
(End of Chapter)
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