Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0540 Shopping

Bryan slowly turned his head to look at Fleur. She had transformed herself by changing into the white silk formal dress from earlier.

The dress wasn't just tailor-made for Fleur – it was as if it had been conjured from pure moonlight specifically for her body.

The exquisite craftsmanship was evident in every stitch and seam, the fabric flowing like liquid silver as it traced the elegant curves of her figure with an artist's precision. Her exposed collarbones caught the light like fine porcelain.

The diamonds meticulously embedded along the dress's hem weren't merely sewn on; they seemed to capture and release light in a mesmerizing dance, creating a constellation of sparkles that followed her every movement. The fringe that cascaded from the half-sleeves swayed with ethereal grace, each strand emitting a pure white luminescence that seemed to create a subtle halo around her arms.

The true genius of the design lay in its restraint. A few precious inches of delicate white gauze joined above the strapless bodice, creating an artful veil across what would otherwise have been a revealing neckline. This ingenious addition, rather than diminishing the dress's allure, elevated it to something approaching haute couture.

Fleur stood there in the shop's warm lighting, becoming the gravitational center of the room, drawing all eyes inevitably toward her radiance.

Gabrielle, who lived with her sister's beauty as a daily reality, was also momentarily stunned by this particular manifestation of it.

The shop owner, a woman whose forty-plus years in the fashion industry had surely immunized her against most displays of beauty, couldn't help but stare at Fleur with unconcealed admiration.

The spell was broken, however, when Fleur's perfectly shaped brows drew together in a frown, her eyes fixed with obvious distaste on the particularly utilitarian sportswear displayed behind Bryan.

"You seriously expect us to appear before the entire European magical community wearing those... those ugly clothes?" Her French accent became more distinct with her distress, adding musical notes of indignation to her words.

Bryan's response came with the calm detachment of someone examining a mildly interesting academic problem. He spoke as if he were completely immune to the vision before him, his voice maintaining the same measured tone he might use to discuss the weather.

"I think they're quite nice, actually," he replied, continuing with official precision, "To better present the tournament to the audience, and for your own safety, champions must wear uniform attire during the tasks. Didn't you know? It's specified in the tournament regulations—"

"Impossible!" Fleur declared with absolute certainty. Her voice rang through the shop. "I know every single regulation by heart, down to the last comma and period, and there has never been any rule about champions' attire. Not one word!"

Bryan's response came with a casual dismissiveness. "That was before,"

Noting the gathering storm in Fleur's expression, he smoothly added, "It starts this year."

Before she could voice her arguments, he continued, "I'll add this clause to the champions' safety protocol regulations when I return. Champions who don't comply will lose points even if they execute their tasks with absolute perfection."

Fleur's chest rose and fell with barely contained fury, the diamonds on her dress catching the light with each indignant breath. She'd never seen anyone be so brazenly arbitrary while maintaining such a righteous air.

Bryan, seemingly oblivious to the storm he had stirred, turned to the shop owner.

"I'd like to order four sets of these outfits for the tournament champions," he stated, his tone shifting to business-like care. "Hmm..." He paused thoughtfully, "I'll notify you when to come to Hogwarts to measure the champions. How long will it take, and what would be the cost?"

The shop owner's hands trembled with barely contained excitement, her eyes lighting up at the marketing possibilities in Mr. Watson's order.

"Only two days, Mr. Watson!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering with enthusiasm. "As for the cost..." her voice dropped to an eager whisper, "not a single Knut, Mr. Watson, if you'd permit me to—"

"Ah," Bryan cut in smoothly, having anticipated this exact proposal, "I'm afraid I must decline your request." He shook his head with skillful regret. "I cannot allow advertising on the competition uniforms. If you wish to pursue promotional opportunities, you'll need to negotiate directly with the goblins."

"I've already inquired!" The shop owner's excitement deflated slightly, replaced by a frustrated grumble.

"Those black-hearted goblins charge enough to buy an entire full-grown Hungarian Horntail! But Mr. Watson," she continued, her business acumen shining through, "I can offer you a very reasonable discount. Considering each champion needs to participate in three tasks, twelve sets would be sensible. Including the service fee, you'd only need to pay one hundred and fifty Galleons—"

Bryan's eyebrow arched appreciatively at the owner's meticulous planning. "Very well," he conceded, "we'll proceed as you suggest. When you come to Hogwarts to measure the champions, I'll have Argus handle the payment—"

"You truly intend to make us wear those hideous clothes in the competition!" Fleur's voice cut through their business discussion like a blade of pure ice. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, "No, you absolutely cannot do this!"

"Of course, I can, Miss Delacour—" Bryan's reply was accompanied by a series of sharp neck cracks as he twisted his head, the sound echoing in the quiet shop. He rubbed his brow with weariness and said. "Are we finished here? Have you decided whether to purchase this dress?"

The sudden shift in topic caught Fleur off-guard, momentarily derailing her building tirade. His reminder brought her back to her original purpose in trying on the dress.

"What... Oh, the dress!"

Taking several deep breaths to compose herself, Fleur made a conscious decision to temporarily set aside the uniform debate, unwilling to let it completely spoil what should have been a perfect moment. Her natural grace reasserted itself as she pushed aside her irritation.

"What do you think?"

The pretty smile that was her birthright returned to her face as she executed a perfect twirl, her arms spread wide in an elegant gesture that showed off the dress to its full advantage.

"I already have a dress prepared for the Yule Ball," she said, her voice carrying a hint of coquettishness, "but I believe this one is even more beautiful. What do you think? If you like it..."

"It's fine," Bryan said with devastating briefness.

Fleur waited expectantly, sure that more commentary would follow such an inadequate response. But Bryan had apparently exhausted his capacity for fashion criticism with those two words.

Instead, he turned carelessly toward the shop window, his attention caught by the first drops of rain beginning to fall outside. He muttered something under his breath about the weather, his tone carrying clear disapproval.

Fleur stood frozen in place as if struck by a particularly powerful Petrificus Totalus, her cheeks gradually flooding with color until they matched the pink roses in the shop's window display. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, while beside her, Gabrielle pressed her small hands against her mouth to contain her growing amusement at her sister's predicament.

"Never mind!" The word exploded from Fleur with all the force of a blasting curse. She whirled around and stormed back to the changing room, the dress swirling around her like angry storm clouds.

The aftermath of the Gladrags Wizardwear incident left a visible mark on Fleur's typically boundless shopping enthusiasm. She moved through the village streets at a pace that said she was trying to outrun her own embarrassment.

Even Gabrielle's gentle attempts at consolation fell on deaf ears, causing her to miss entirely the complex look Bryan casted after her retreating figure.

"Achoo!"

The sharp sound of Gabrielle's sneeze cut through the steadily intensifying patter of rain. Fleur had been intent on returning directly to the school carriage, but the weather had other plans.

The wind was picking up force now, driving the rain at an angle that seemed designed to find every gap in their clothing. Only then did Fleur notice her sister's condition – Gabrielle's silvery bangs were plastered to her forehead, her thin body trembling against the cold, damp wind that cut through the village streets.

When Gabrielle turned her large eyes toward her sister, they held such a pitiful expression that Fleur's protective instincts immediately overwhelmed her personal distress.

"Alright—"

Fleur wrapped a protective arm around Gabrielle's shoulders, her eyes scanning the row of shops on either side of the rain-slicked street with new purpose. The earlier irritation in her voice had transformed into sisterly concern.

"We can find somewhere to shelter from the rain and get something to eat—"

The realization that it was already lunchtime coincided with her spotting the Three Broomsticks through its fog-misted windows. The warm glow from within revealed the comforting sight of numerous patrons moving about.

With careful steps, Fleur guided Gabrielle across the treacherously slippery cobblestones toward the pub's entrance. Behind them, Bryan's gaze also turned toward the shop, but his brief assessment of the scene within caused his brow to furrow with concern, and his pace quickened.

Focused on Gabrielle's comfort, feeling the alarming chill of her sister's arm through her sleeve, Fleur's protective instincts urged her forward. She reached for the mist-covered door handle, eager to get her sister into the warmth.

But as she pulled the heavy door open and stepped across the threshold, a dark figure suddenly burst forth from within, moving at reckless speed. Before Fleur could process what was happening, before she could utter a warning cry, she felt something solid collide with her nose, and then—

"Oh!"

The pain that exploded through her face was extraordinary, the kind that made sparks dance behind her eyelids and threatened to send her consciousness fleeing.

The force of the impact destroyed her balance, sending her stumbling backward. In that moment of weightless terror, she was certain she would end up face down across the wet cobblestones – until she found herself caught against something solid and warm!

Bryan had moved with unexpected speed, catching Fleur's falling form while simultaneously reaching out to steady Gabrielle, who had also been caught in the chaos. After ensuring both sisters were stable, he shifted slightly to examine Fleur's nose, which was already showing signs of swelling. A heavy sigh escaped him as he recognized the culprits of this collision.

"Potter, and Granger," he called, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and exasperation.

His gaze moved between Harry, who stood near the bar holding his forehead with an expression of shocked panic, and Hermione, who was hurrying over with equal parts concern and guilt written across her face.

"Is today a Hogsmeade visiting day?" Bryan's question carried the weight of someone who already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway. "How exactly did you end up here?"

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