Harry never felt that his title as the Chosen One was any kind of achievement; he always believed that a person like Sherlock was the kind of Wizard truly worthy of admiration.
Therefore, when it came to bragging about Sherlock , he felt even more proud than when praising himself.
Listening to Harry's words, Fleur stared at Sherlock 's profile, observing it carefully for a long time, trying to confirm if she had seen him somewhere before.
After a moment of recollection, she finally remembered.
"I remember now. A while ago, it seems the Astral Observer (a local French magical newspaper) reported news about you, stating that you are the only Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts in the last thirty years who is about to be reappointed for a second year."
Sherlock was speechless regarding this report.
But thinking about it, it made sense. Compared to the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk, which non-Hogwarts students didn't know about, the fact that someone had actually survived the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor position was the most eye-catching detail.
Upon learning that both Sherlock and Harry were renowned figures in Britain, Fleur, whose heart had remained vigilant even after getting into the car, finally relaxed a little.
In her view, one was a respected Professor at a magic school, despite his youth, and the other was a boy with the title of the Chosen One. It was unlikely that these two would have any improper intentions toward her.
After spending time in close proximity to Fleur, Harry also gradually broke free from the feeling of being bewitched.
Looking at the girl now, besides feeling that she was excessively beautiful, and that her personality was arrogant and even somewhat rude, there was nothing special about her. He couldn't help but wonder why he had been so obsessed with her before.
At this moment, Sherlock suddenly asked,
"Do you have Veela blood?"
Fleur felt no shame; she tilted her head and admitted it with pride.
"My grandmother was a Veela, and I have one-quarter Veela blood."
Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.
"That explains it."
Harry, a student who usually only knew how to play at school and never read any extracurricular books, was completely confused.
"What is a Veela?"
"You can think of them as humans with a special bloodline," Sherlock explained to him. "In the classifications of various countries, Veela belong to a branch of humanity, except they are born with beauty that is hard for ordinary people to surpass, and they possess an innate charm that can cause the opposite sex to be captivated and obsessed with them at first sight, but..."
Sherlock had originally wanted to say that when a Veela gets angry, she transforms into a harpy-like creature, to teach Harry that beautiful things are sometimes not as perfect as people imagine, and that they often have an ugly side as well.
But because Fleur was nearby, it wasn't appropriate to bring up that topic, so he didn't finish his sentence.
Harry's eyes were now as wide as saucers.
"So Miss Delacour actually carries that kind of charm magic?"
Sherlock tapped his head, signalling him to be careful with his words; the word "charm" didn't sound very pleasant.
"Then Professor, why weren't you affected?" Harry, realising that he must have fallen for this half-Veela's allure earlier, asked Sherlock curiously.
Sherlock wasn't sure why Fleur's allure didn't work on him. Perhaps her abilities weren't as powerful as a true Veela's, or maybe Sherlock 's own soul was strong enough to be immune to such charms. Regardless, he remained unaffected.
"Because your Professor is knowledgeable and experienced, not something a greenhorn like you can compare to."
Fleur didn't pay attention to their conversation. She seemed to be thinking of something, her expression dimming, and she appeared to be in a bad mood.
Harry thought it was his fault and stammered an apology.
"S-sorry, Miss Delacour, I didn't mean to."
Fleur shook her head.
"It's not your fault. It's because my wand was stolen."
Sherlock didn't understand what she meant. While a wand is important to a Wizard, it isn't exactly rare.
There are plenty in wand shops, and you can buy one for less than 10 Galleons. For a Wizarding family with deep roots like the Delacours, as long as they were willing to spend the money, it wouldn't be a problem to give her a different wand every day for three hundred and sixty days a year.
"Did that wand have special significance to you?" Sherlock asked hesitantly.
"The wand core was made from my grandmother's hair," Fleur said, pursing her lips.
Sherlock shook his head with a sigh.
"That is indeed a very meaningful wand. However, if you didn't catch the thief on the spot, the chances of finding it later are not very high, so try to look on the bright side."(TN: What bright side?)
It wasn't high before, but after you said that, the chances of getting it back are too high!
Harry silently grumbled to himself after hearing Sherlock 's words.
Fleur was in a bad mood, so they didn't have much more conversation along the way.
Sherlock changed the radio station in the car, listening to French folk music while driving peacefully. Harry was still fiddling with the camera on the side; he seemed to have discovered the fun of photography, but because he didn't have much film, he didn't dare to take random pictures.
But a subtle, abrupt sound suddenly caught Sherlock 's attention.
He looked into the rear-view mirror and just happened to see Fleur's shy and flustered gaze dart away from his eyes.
Harry was still obliviously studying the camera's zoom, and Sherlock continued driving as if nothing had happened, but in reality, he was specifically keeping an eye on the shops along the road. Not long after, he stopped beside a roadside restaurant.
Seeing the car stop in front of the restaurant, Harry looked puzzled.
"Didn't we just have lunch, Professor?"
Sherlock glared at him.
"Why do you care so much? Are you unhappy that I'm treating you to afternoon tea?"
After they got out of the car, Sherlock glanced at Fleur, who was still sitting in the back seat, forcing herself not to get out.
"Let's go, it's on me."
Fleur certainly realised that Sherlock had come to this restaurant for her sake. She pursed her lips, got out of the car, followed beside Sherlock , and said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Sherlock didn't have any other intentions; he just thought the girl was quite pitiful. Plus, they still had at least two days until they reached Paris, and he couldn't just let her starve for two days.
Upon arriving at the restaurant, Sherlock only ordered two desserts for himself and Harry, and then watched Fleur drink fish soup there.
It was clear she really liked the taste of this fish soup, though unfortunately, Sherlock and Harry weren't very fond of it.
After she was full, Sherlock even lent her his wand, letting her use a cleaning charm to tidy up some of the dirt on her, and then they continued on their way.
They arrived in the central French city of Clermont-Ferrand at dusk, found a hotel to rest for the night, and resumed their journey the next day after breakfast.
By noon, they finally arrived in the suburbs of Paris.
Seeing that she was almost home, Fleur's mood had improved significantly. On the road after that lunch, she didn't keep up her haughty attitude anymore, chatting and laughing with Sherlock and Harry, and even invited them to come and stay at her house for a few days.
Sherlock and Harry naturally didn't refuse. Paris was both their destination and the end of their trip; having a local guide was naturally better than the two of them wandering around blindly.
As the capital of France, Paris was much more prosperous than other cities.
Under Fleur's directions, Sherlock drove the car to a small town outside Paris. In the most remote corner of the town was the Delacour family's manor.
Compared to The Burrow, the Delacour Manor was much larger.(TN: Who compares the Burrow to a Manor?)
It was clear that a Muggle-Repelling Charm had been cast here as well; normal people passing by would never notice the prominent medieval manor by the roadside.
Sherlock parked the car outside, and Fleur led them into the Delacour home.
They ran straight into a House-elf.
"Miss! Why are you only just returning!" the House-elf said, looking at Fleur eagerly in front of the garden. "Mistress has been fretting for several days. If you hadn't returned tonight, she and Master were going to go out and look for you."
"There were some accidents on the road, Chekley."
Fleur happily introduced Sherlock , Harry, and Chekley to each other.
"This is my family's House-elf, Chekley. These two are Sherlock and Harry. If it hadn't been for them helping me on the road, I don't know where I would be wandering now."
Someone inside heard the commotion and pushed the door open to come out; it was a little girl with the same silver-white hair and a delicate, doll-like appearance.
"Sister!"
Seeing Fleur, she excitedly ran down the stairs and threw herself into her arms.
Fleur held her and spun around twice in place.
"I'm back, Gabrielle."
Subsequently, an elegant, charming woman who looked very much like Fleur also walked out. When she saw Fleur, her eyes instantly turned red, and tears almost fell.
"Didn't you go back to school to get some letter of introduction from Madame Maxime? Why are you only just returning now?"
"There were some accidents, Mother." Fleur put down Gabrielle, who was in her arms, not daring to mention that she had lost her wand right away. Instead, she pulled Sherlock and Harry over to introduce them.
"This is Sherlock and Harry. Thanks to their help, I was able to return today. They plan to play in Paris for a few days, so I invited them to be guests at our home."
Sherlock extended his hand and shook Madame Delacour's.
"My name is Sherlock , and this is my student Harry Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame."
Madame Delacour thanked them gratefully.
"Thank you for your help. My daughter's personality is a bit difficult; thank you for bearing with her on the road."
Even little Gabrielle, standing to the side, bowed and said in a crisp voice.
"Thank you for helping my sister."
The Delacour family was very well-bred; apart from Fleur being a bit arrogant, the overall impression they gave wasn't unpleasant.
After the family invited Sherlock and Harry into the living room, Madame Delacour asked Fleur and Gabrielle to keep them company while she went to prepare lunch.