Chapter 310. Beauxbatons' Carriage
Early the next morning.
Hermione dragged Harry and Ron to the library at first light to look for ways to deal with dragons.
"We have to make use of every minute," she said as they walked, speaking to the two boys. "The first task is tomorrow. There's hardly any time left."
Harry wasn't worried about it, though Hermione clearly wanted to help him prepare further.
He wasn't about to refuse; having more contingencies was always a good thing.
"Dragons are more dangerous than you think, Harry," Ron muttered on Harry's left. "In Charlie's first year as a dragon keeper, he came home with new scars every time. Once his entire right arm was burnt to a crisp—Mum nearly fainted when she saw it."
"I know," Harry said calmly, nodding. "That's the Triwizard Tournament for you, and it's why they stopped holding it—it's too dangerous!"
"And all of it just for the glory of being a champion," Hermione sighed. "Why can't they design something safe for once?"
"And a thousand Galleons," Ron reminded her under his breath.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, then pushed open the library doors.
They didn't have much time to prepare, because they still had lessons today—though no one was forcing Harry to attend.
The three of them picked an empty table at random and sat down.
The library was nearly deserted at this early hour.
However, Harry spotted Cedric in a corner.
He suddenly realised that of all the champions, only Cedric still didn't know what the task was.
This wasn't a fair contest.
"Give me a moment." He stood and walked towards Cedric.
Cedric was poring over a copy of Advanced Defensive Spells, his brow furrowed.
He only jerked his head up when Harry sat down opposite.
"Harry?" He looked a little surprised, then smiled amicably. "Doing some research?"
Harry lowered his voice. "About tomorrow's task… do you remember the training Professor Wesson had us do?"
"Oh, of course." Cedric looked puzzled. "What about it?"
"The task tomorrow is dragons," Harry said gravely.
While Harry and the others were preparing in a flurry—
Adrian Wesson stood before the Beauxbatons carriage, looking up at the gigantic edifice drawn by twelve winged Abraxans with silver manes.
In the sunlight, the powder-blue body of the carriage glimmered with a pearly lustre, delicate gold filigree tracing the panelling.
A golden staircase ran from the carriage door down to Adrian Wesson's feet. "Please come in, Professor Wesson." Gabrielle Delacour leaned out of the doorway and beckoned excitedly. "I already spoke to Madame Maxime—she agreed to let you have a look round."
"Oh, thank you."
Adrian Wesson smiled and stepped onto the gold staircase unfolding from the carriage. The interior was far larger than the outside—clearly the result of an Undetectable Extension Charm.
The moment he crossed the threshold, a refreshing breeze mingled with a pleasant fragrance washed over him.
This was a vast, resplendent hall with gilded pillars lining both sides. The space was astonishingly large; a Persian carpet underfoot was soft enough to sink into, and three enormous crystal chandeliers hung overhead.
Adrian looked around, taking in the carriage's interior.
Beauxbatons truly had resources.
A carriage like this was not something money alone could produce.
Gabrielle twirled in delight. "Madame Maxime says there are a hundred rooms in this carriage! If not for the Triwizard Tournament, I wouldn't even have known Beauxbatons had such a carriage."
"Amazing, Gabrielle," Adrian Wesson said, impressed. "It's the most magnificent carriage I've ever seen."
At his praise, Gabrielle's eyes crinkled with pleasure.
She led Adrian down a corridor hung with magical portraits and, at last, into a small room.
It appeared to be a cosy, exquisitely arranged sitting room. Paintings Adrian couldn't interpret hung on the walls; a dainty tea table held a fine tea service, the teapot venting little curls of steam all by itself; and in the corner stood a golden piano, its keys gently rising and falling with no one playing.
"Wait just a moment," Gabrielle said brightly. "Professor Roskin and my sister will be here at once."
Adrian sat on a comfortable sofa and took a sip of tea.
Aside from Dumbledore, he was probably the first Hogwarts professor invited to tour the Beauxbatons carriage.
As for why they'd invited him?
Because of Gabrielle, of course.
Adrian knew a thing or two about winning over little girls.
At first, Gabrielle hadn't trusted him much, but after a while—and with Roskin's introductions—she'd dropped her guard completely.
Of course, he'd paid a price for that: certain bits of information about the task.
Though the child before him was only single-digit in age, she was very clever, and quietly finding ways to help her sister.
Adrian glanced at Gabrielle—she was sipping a glass of grape juice, legs swinging idly. Evidently, she was far more relaxed inside the carriage.
Before long, Madame Maxime appeared from a side corridor with Fleur.
Madame Maxime retained her usual air of elegance and composure, though the shadows beneath her eyes showed she hadn't been sleeping well.
As for Fleur, she clearly started when she saw Adrian, surprised by this unexpected visit.
"Oh, welcome, Professor Wesson," said Madame Maxime with a slight inclination of her head. "Gabrielle has been clamouring to invite you to visit. I'm very pleased to host a professor from Hogwarts."
Adrian stood and said politely, "Thank you, Madame Maxime. The Beauxbatons carriage is even more astonishing than the tales."
Madame Maxime permitted herself a small, satisfied smile.
Fleur stood at her side, her silver hair shifting in the light through the stained-glass window as she regarded Adrian with a measuring gaze.
"Professor Roskin will take you on a tour of our carriage in a moment," said Madame Maxime. "She should be feeding the Abraxans just now; I expect she'll finish shortly."
"Thank you," Adrian said sincerely.
Meanwhile, beneath his robes, the Devil's Snare gave a quiet squirm—it still didn't sense anything abnormal or any trace of Dark magic on Madame Maxime.
It seemed very unlikely that Madame Maxime had meddled with the Goblet of Fire.
In that case…
Karkaroff remained the prime suspect.
Adrian narrowed his eyes, the image of that sleazy man with the goatee rising in his mind.
Soon after, Roskin pushed the door open. She still carried the strong scent of whisky.
As Madame Maxime had said, she had just been feeding the Abraxans.
Those finicky horses would drink only single-malt whisky.
Yet by Adrian's understanding, Abraxans were herbivores and not picky eaters.
It was only that the Beauxbatons herd was kept in the lap of luxury.
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