Chapter 294. Roskin and Fleur
If the most eye-catching thing about Beauxbatons was their Abraxans—
Then the most attention-grabbing presence from Durmstrang was undoubtedly Viktor Krum—Seeker for the Bulgarian national Quidditch team and the hottest Quidditch star of the day.
Of course, what Adrian Wesson cared about most was Roskin.
He suddenly remembered that the clerk at the Magical Creatures shop had once mentioned their boss was travelling at Beauxbatons.
It seemed that hadn't been a joke.
Still… Adrian couldn't help shaking his head—abandoning your own employee for so long was not the behaviour of a competent proprietor.
The last time he'd gone to the Magical Creatures shop, the young lady at the counter had been so full of grievance it was practically spilling over.
Once everyone had gathered, Dumbledore cheerfully announced that they would proceed to the Great Hall.
Hogwarts didn't stand much on ceremony; the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang simply chose whichever House table they fancied for the meal.
For example, Krum from Durmstrang went to the Slytherin table, while the Beauxbatons students blended into the Ravenclaw crowd.
The two heads sat on either side of Dumbledore, and Roskin naturally took the seat next to Adrian.
Curiously, even after everyone sat down, there were still two empty seats at the staff table—Adrian guessed they were reserved for Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch, seeing as they were organisers of the Triwizard Tournament.
"You look very surprised to see me here?" Roskin seemed in fine spirits.
"Ah, yes," Adrian shrugged. "A bit unexpected, but not much. I heard from your clerk that you were travelling at Beauxbatons, and besides the occasional letter you haven't looked after the shop for months. Mm… I advise you to soothe the clerk's temper—she seems quite cross."
At this, Roskin waved a hand airily, her tone light. "It's all right, I gave her a raise."
Adrian nodded in agreement—indeed, Galleons could solve most problems.
But clearly Roskin wasn't very concerned about her employee.
At that moment, their conversation drew the attention of Madame Maxime.
"You know each other?" She raised an eyebrow slightly, asking in English with a strong French accent.
"Yes, Madame," Roskin flashed her a brilliant smile. "Old friends."
Madame Maxime inclined her head gracefully and said no more.
Dumbledore had noticed the person beside Adrian as well. He studied Roskin with curiosity. "And this is…?"
Madame Maxime set down her goblet with poise and explained, "A Magical Creatures specialist specially retained by Beauxbatons. You know, our precious Abraxans are in breeding season at present and require special care."
She turned to Roskin, a look of admiration in her eyes. "Professor Roskin has extraordinary expertise in creatures' breeding—only she can properly look after the Abraxans."
Roskin nodded with pride, evidently very receptive to Madame Maxime's praise.
"Ah, surely an excellent young person," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Welcome, Professor Roskin."
Young, is she…?
Adrian studied Roskin with interest—she wore the same light-blue uniform as Beauxbatons' students, black hair falling loosely over her shoulders, no wrinkles on her face, skin very well kept; she certainly fit Dumbledore's definition of "young."
But Adrian knew you couldn't read a wizard's age from their appearance—especially a witch's.
"Forgive me for being forward," Adrian lowered his voice. "How old are you?"
"If you think it's forward, don't ask," Roskin replied bluntly.
"Oh. All right."
Seeing this, Adrian didn't press. Though they'd known each other for some time, the question did touch on privacy.
It seemed Roskin was a bit sensitive about her age.
Could it be… her actual age far exceeded what she looked? Adrian couldn't help wondering.
Meanwhile, Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch finally arrived at the table.
The feast was rich and varied; the House-elves had clearly put in tremendous effort.
For instance, the sardine pie before Adrian.
He stared at the fish poking their heads out of the crust, glassy eyes fixed on the enchanted ceiling of the Hall, and pushed the dish towards Roskin.
Roskin promptly pushed it back.
"I don't care for that," she said with a cheerful squint.
"All right," Adrian sighed at the pie. "I'll see to it."
Just then, a Beauxbatons student swaddled from head to toe hurried over.
Even in the warm Great Hall, she wore a heavy black veil, leaving only a pair of silvery eyes visible.
"Professor," she said to Roskin, "it's time to feed the Abraxans. The gamekeeper at Hogwarts… may not be up to it."
"Don't worry, miss," Adrian cut in at once. "Hagrid will handle everything just fine."
"But—"
The muffled student seemed about to say more when Roskin interrupted her.
"It's all right," she said breezily. "If it's only feeding the Abraxans, that's no hard task. Oh—Fleur, how long do you intend to keep that veil on? Take it off; it isn't very polite."
The girl addressed as Fleur hesitated a moment, then removed the veil.
A delicate face was revealed, a cascade of silver hair spilling like a waterfall—strikingly beautiful.
Adrian immediately understood why she'd worn a veil—this was a Veela.
Or rather, a girl with Veela blood in her—no… less than half.
While Adrian was weighing the exact fraction, Fleur dipped in a graceful Beauxbatons curtsey.
"Good day, Professor Wesson," she said softly. "Professor Roskin has spoken of you."
"This is Fleur Delacour," Roskin introduced, a sly glint flashing in her eyes. "One of Beauxbatons' finest students."
"How do you do."
Adrian nodded, then asked Roskin in a low voice, "This child… is she a Veela half-blood?"
Roskin hadn't answered when Fleur spoke at once, frank and composed: "Yes, Professor—I am one-quarter Veela."
"No wonder I sensed a particular attraction," Adrian said sincerely. "Oh—and of course, setting the Veela heritage aside, you are very beautiful as well, Miss Delacour."
"Thank you."
Somewhat surprised, Fleur then smiled.
Though it was praise she often heard, compliments were always pleasant to receive, after all.
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