Chapter 273
"Fleur, are you alright?"
Olympe Maxime looked at her student with concern.
Fleur's complexion looked terrible, as though she might collapse at any moment.
"Are you sick?" Madame Maxime asked softly.
Outside the Beauxbatons carriage, the students were already preparing to follow their headmistress to the Triwizard Tournament award ceremony.
One of the champions, Fleur Delacour, naturally stood among them.
"Big Sister hasn't looked well since yesterday," Gabrielle added quietly.
"I probably caught a cold. I'm fine," Fleur replied softly, gently patting Gabrielle's head.
"That's good."
Madame Maxime still looked somewhat suspicious.
Fleur deliberately coughed a few times, and only then did Madame Maxime finally believe her explanation.
Gabrielle, however, continued staring at her sister doubtfully.
Fleur cared about her more than anyone else. If Fleur truly had a cold, she definitely would not have slept beside Gabrielle all night for fear of passing it on to her.
Fleur immediately shot Gabrielle a meaningful look.
The little girl opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something—
But eventually swallowed the words back down.
"Oh, Fleur," Madame Maxime lowered her voice slightly, "during the ceremony, stay away from them as much as possible. If anything unexpected happens, step back immediately."
"Understood, Madame Maxime," Fleur answered softly, trying her best to hide the abnormal tension in her expression.
The Triwizard Tournament award ceremony was scheduled for the evening.
By now, the sun had already sunk below the horizon.
A faint mixture of golden and crimson light spread across the Hogwarts castle grounds, making the entire campus appear peaceful and tranquil.
According to tradition, important ceremonies were always held after dinner.
Tonight was no exception.
"Draco, your appetite seems surprisingly good today."
Pansy Parkinson looked at Draco Malfoy in surprise.
She lazily straightened up, picked up some food, and casually tossed it into her mouth while chewing.
"It still tastes pretty average."
Pansy frowned and shook her head.
"It's only a little more luxurious than usual."
"Maybe I'm simply in a good mood today," Malfoy replied with a faint smile as he continued eating from his plate.
"How did your final exams go?" he asked casually.
"Not bad."
Pansy tilted her head and rested herself against the table.
"I couldn't exactly ask you to help me revise. You still had the Tournament to deal with."
"Study harder next semester," Malfoy sighed lightly as he pushed his empty plate aside.
"Draco, you've been acting strange today."
Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Why does it feel like you're hiding something from me again?"
The girl leaned closer, as though trying to carefully examine his face for clues.
"I doubt second place feels as satisfying as first place," Malfoy answered calmly, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere.
"That's not it."
Pansy immediately shook her head.
"You're acting exactly like before."
She turned her face away, looking slightly annoyed.
Her cheeks had even flushed red from frustration.
Malfoy merely narrowed his eyes slightly and looked toward the teachers' table.
"I probably won't have to deal with her temper much longer," he murmured quietly.
Then he suddenly noticed someone watching him.
It was Fleur.
She sat elegantly beside Madame Maxime at the guest table, calmly enjoying dinner.
Her dazzling silver hair had been tied into a simple low bun that made her appear both graceful and mature.
Those enchanting eyes occasionally drifted toward the Slytherin table.
Malfoy felt his heartbeat become slightly unstable.
Not because of the sort of romantic thoughts people usually imagined—
But because of the helpless feeling of being unable to completely control the future.
Their eyes met briefly.
Fleur immediately looked away somewhat unnaturally.
Neither of them gained anything meaningful from that short exchange.
Aside from that accidental mouth-to-mouth rescue during the Tournament, they had barely interacted at all.
Both of them had silently chosen to pretend nothing had happened.
Perhaps that truly was the best way to handle it.
Anything else would only make things awkward.
But no one could predict what absurd twist the mischievous Goddess of Fate might suddenly arrange next.
At the teachers' table, Sybill Trelawney sat with her hands clasped together as though praying.
She muttered continuously under her breath while her entire body trembled violently.
Even the dining table shook slightly because of her movements.
A deeply displeased expression appeared on Minerva McGonagall's face.
"Sybill, what exactly are you doing now?" Professor McGonagall frowned sharply.
"It's dinner time."
She tapped the table with her finger and spoke in an irritated tone.
"Something terrible is going to happen tonight, Minerva!" Professor Trelawney shook her head fearfully while clutching her shoulders.
Her enormous glasses hung crookedly on her nose.
Her hair looked even messier than usual.
It was obvious she had barely eaten anything, as though fear had completely destroyed her appetite.
"What is it this time?"
Professor McGonagall's tone became colder.
"Another prediction of disaster?"
"You say that at least six days every week, and none of them ever happen."
"Or perhaps you're talking about broken plates and dropped forks again?"
"It's real this time," Trelawney insisted anxiously.
"You have to believe me."
She clasped her hands together tightly and looked pleadingly at the other professors, clearly hoping someone would support her.
Severus Snape merely glanced at her coldly before lowering his eyes back toward the bowl of soup in front of him.
Apparently, observing the broth interested him far more than listening to Trelawney's rambling.
"Oh?"
Professor McGonagall gave a cold laugh.
"So all your previous predictions were fake?"
A burst of laughter immediately erupted from the staff table.
Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and several other professors all laughed openly.
Yet Professor Trelawney showed no embarrassment whatsoever.
She merely continued muttering her prayers softly beneath her breath.
Then—
The ancient bell rang throughout the hall.
At that moment, the students and professors had all finished eating.
The remaining food instantly vanished from every plate.
Dinner was over.