The sudden eruption of noise caused Professor Moreau's pleasant expression to curdle. His face darkened into a thundercloud.
Professor Moreau was a man who prized order and etiquette above all else. He was known for his sharp critiques and swift punishments for any students who breached the decorum of Beauxbatons. He had intended to showcase the school's solemn dignity to their guest, but this display of rowdiness had shattered the image completely. The anger simmering in his heart was plain to see.
He rose from the table and strode directly into the path of the rambunctious students. His voice, sharp as shattering glass, cut through their laughter.
"What is the meaning of this?" he thundered. "Have you no rules? The academy graciously permits you to remain over the holiday, and you repay that kindness by treating its halls like a common Quidditch pitch? Out! All of you! I expect a thousand-word essay on decorum from each of you on my desk by morning. If anyone fails to submit it, you will be expelled from the grounds until the start of term!"
Humiliated, the students fell silent and shuffled out of the Great Hall, their heads bowed. Whatever resentment they felt, they dared not show it; they knew Professor Moreau had the authority to make good on his threat.
Once outside, their dejected silence gave way to mutinous whispers.
"Can you believe it? Of all the times for Moreau to still be in the hall," one grumbled.
"I saw him with some strangers," another chimed in, frowning. "Who was that boy sitting with him? Eating with Moreau, of all people."
The group exchanged confused glances.
Then, a thoughtful look crossed one boy's face. "Wait... I heard a rumour. That some exchange student from Hogwarts was coming to stay for a month. You don't think that was him?"
"It must be," another concluded, his expression souring. "He's the only reason Moreau was still there. If it weren't for that Hogwarts git, we wouldn't have been ambushed. If I get the chance, I'd like to see what this ponce is really made of."
After lunch, Professor Moreau took his leave. His duties as a professor were many, and having personally welcomed Sean was a courtesy extended solely out of respect for the Bulstrode family's reputation. Though the name was less known in France, its influence was undeniable; securing a place for Sean at Beauxbatons during the holiday was proof enough of that.
Before departing, he instructed Barre and Fleur to show Sean and his attendants around the grounds before leading them to their pre-arranged dormitory. The suite was spacious and well-appointed, with more than enough room for the three of them.
After leaving a map of the chateau and a formal pass for Sean, Barre and Fleur offered a curt farewell and departed together, making it clear they had no intention of socializing further.
Sean watched them go, a small, knowing smile on his face. "It seems the students of Beauxbatons are not eager to welcome us."
"Many people in this world are short-sighted, Young Master," Aldrich said smoothly. "Naturally, they cannot perceive your excellence."
Sean chuckled, not wanting to admit how comfortable the flattery felt. He picked up the map and pass his guides had left. "Let's rest for a short while, then we'll head directly to the library. A month isn't long. Since we're here, we must ensure we gain something from it."
The Beauxbatons library was a magnificent, detached building on the sun-drenched southern side of the estate. To reach it from the main chateau, one had to cross the school's manicured Quidditch pitch and stroll through a fragrant, hedge-lined garden.
The library itself was comprised of five floors, each with its own level of restriction. The first floor was open to all. The second was accessible to fifth-year students and above. The third required a professor's written permission to view its collection. The fourth was reserved for professors alone, and the fifth was a place of legend, its contents rumored to be so dangerous and secret that not even the regular faculty were permitted entry.
The pass arranged for Sean granted him access up to the third floor. While he could consult the books there on-site, he could not check them out. Books from the first two floors, however, were his to borrow for the duration of his stay.
Leading Aldrich and Jensen into the grand, sunlit space, Sean bypassed the stairs and began perusing the shelves on the first floor. He was primarily interested in Potions and Transfiguration, his two strongest subjects. As he browsed, however, he discovered something remarkable: a vast and comprehensive section dedicated entirely to Alchemy. The subject wasn't even offered at Hogwarts, and books on the topic were exceedingly rare there.
He spent some time selecting a few advanced Potions and Transfiguration texts he hadn't yet read, but his curiosity drew him back to the new discovery. He gathered a hefty stack of foundational Alchemy books and settled into a quiet corner by a large window.
Seeing Sean prepare to study, Aldrich selected two volumes for himself and sat at a respectful distance. Jensen, however, looked as if he'd been sentenced to a slow death by parchment. While he could conjure a Shield Charm powerful enough to deflect spells from a fully grown wizard, the silent, stationary act of reading was a form of torture he could not endure. With a long-suffering sigh, he slumped into a chair by the window, staring boredly at the Beauxbatons students training on the Quidditch pitch outside.
Meanwhile, in her private dormitory, Fleur Delacour was enjoying her afternoon tea. It was her daily ritual during the holiday: a quiet hour to study or, like today, catch up on the latest publications from the magical world.
A house-elf popped into existence with a soft crack, bowed low, and placed a neat stack of six academic journals on her table before vanishing as silently as it had arrived.
Fleur sipped her black tea and began to flip through them: the French alchemy journal, The Philosopher's Stone; a Northern European Charms periodical called The Wand; and two from Britain, The Golden Cauldron for Potions and Animagus Today for Transfiguration.
Her eyes scanned the cover of The Golden Cauldron, cataloging the articles... until they snagged on a name. A name she had heard just hours ago. A headline detailing a revolutionary new potion modification, attributed to a student. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose in surprise as she read the byline.
"Sean Bulstrode?"
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