With an inexplicable smile on the old principal's face, he patted Owen on the head, the kid seemed to like the matryoshka status.

But- Harry, Harry! It doesn't matter. Harry probably won't be coming to France anyway!

The old headmaster doted on him.

After passing through the sea of beautiful flowers.

Before Owen could continue to enjoy the scenery, a rather burly woman walked over in the distance.

She was almost as tall as Hagrid, and had a handsome olive face. A pair of dark, large, watery eyes, and a very pointed nose.

The hair is combed back and twisted into a shiny bun at the base of the neck.

She was wrapped from head to toe in a black forging garment, which glittered, and many luxurious opals shone on her neck and thick fingers.

The person who came was none other than Madame Maxim, the headmaster of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Welcome." Her gentle voice was like a gentle wind blowing in the mountains.

In accordance with French tradition, Professor Dumbledore offered a hand kiss.

Owen, on the other hand, was fixed on Madame Maxime, a man with blue eyes and long, waterfall-like silver hair. A girl who exudes amazing charm all over her body.

Fleur Delacour, who has the bloodline of Meiwa.

Well~ It's really beautiful.

According to the Chinese guest, Fleur is the most beautiful girl Owen has ever met. And he seems to have an indescribable affection for this girl with the blood of a beautiful baby.

It's like.

They are like relatives.

It's weird, but it's never true.

"Hello, Fleur Delacour, it's an honor to meet you!" She stepped forward with a smile and held out her hand gracefully. (French)

"Hello, I'm Harry—" (in French)

"Ahem, it's not good to always have someone else's name on top of it, little Owen." Dumbledore coughed lightly and reminded. (English)

"Uh-well, I'm Owen, Owen Sanchez." He and Fleur shook hands, and the other smiled awe-inspiringly, as if they liked Owen's 'prank'. (French, and the rest has always been French.) ）

"You speak French so well, and I seem to have a Parisian accent."

Fleur's voice is very good, with a sense of hoarseness, with a faint charm flavor.

"Accent?" Hearing this, Owen was suddenly stunned.

When you are young, you leave home and the boss returns, and the hometown accent has not changed and your sideburns are declining?

He.

"Well, strictly speaking, maybe, probably, maybe I'm actually French?" Owen touched his chin and thought about it carefully, hey! It seems like it's really good.

Damn! I seem to be really French!

Knock! He has become a traitor.

"Are you French?" Fleur was surprised by this, and then asked, "Then why did you end up at Hogwarts?" ”

She glanced cautiously at Dumbledore, who was discussing something with Madame Maxim.

Although the gentleman did have a great reputation.

But a Frenchman who ran to attend an English school of magic. I always think it's weird there.

Moreover, Owen~ This name is so familiar!

I think I've heard it somewhere.

"Family reasons, family reasons." It's embarrassing! Owen said with a sloppy eye.

Good guy, if you keep talking, you're really a traitor.

Look, he said before that the little wizards of the Bubbaston School surrendered as soon as they hit it, and there was no sense of accomplishment at all.

Co-author, I'm the fucking fastest one on the slide.

Damn Britain, I'm crazy about PUA, I almost thought I was the old London Zhengmi flag.

It turned out to be the white flag of old Paris!

？？？

Knock! This is not as good as the Zhengmi flag!

Hearing this, Fleur's eyes began to lose enthusiasm and her incredible speed. It is estimated that the young lady has already branded Owen as a traitor in her heart.

Okay – slightly awkward.

But that doesn't matter.

If we had stayed in France back then, it would have been the red flag of Chiguoguo's old Paris!

What does your Fifth Republic have to do with me?

————

After a few pleasantries.

Madame Maxim led them into a splendid building.

In a place similar to the Hogwarts Great Hall. A small banquet was held for them.

That's when Owen learned that although Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a holiday two weeks later than Hogwarts, it had already ended before July 10th.

It's just that students can choose to stay on campus.

What Owen saw were all students who chose to stay in school, most of them because of family problems, or some other special reasons, until the end of July, when the students left the school one after another. But there are still those who remain.

However, although the number of people was small, the momentum of the old Parisians could not be lost, and about dozens of senior students attended the banquet.

They sang a loud and elegant school song in the auditorium.

The melody is inexplicably like a Marseillaise, euphemistic and powerful, and a positive call to the future for generations of Bubbaston students.

Uh-huh – not bad indeed.

Listening to the soles of the feet can deduct a hole in the ground (fake) Owen's complexion will be white for a while, and black for a while. (As usual), Owen never expected that Dumbledore's first stop would be Bombaston! This made him, a French-born, French-born, French-old Muggle, and his mother not know where to go, and his conscience was disturbed.

The most embarrassing thing is that as soon as the opposite song rises, he knows how to sing.

But he wasn't singing the Bubbaston school song. It's the Marseillaise.

Yes!

Don't!

My conscience! O tormented conscience!

A certain demon and monster is about to show its original form under the glorious righteousness of this song born in the era of the Great Revolution.

In order to hide their embarrassment, as well as to reaffirm their position.

After the singing ended, Owen, who broke his head in the fighting song, got up suddenly, and opened his mouth to say a version of the Hogwarts school song of the 1940 Tour de France armored car race.

Lao Tzu was born as a Ming man, died as a Ming ghost, and even if he was reincarnated, it was the soul of the Celestial Empire. Just France.

Stand up, my fragile conscience!

Seeing that Owen seemed to be a demon, Headmaster Dumbledore was startled. Then, without waiting for his mouth to open, he quickly reached out his hand, grabbed it, and then pressed it to the chair.

It can be seen that the old principal is quite urgent.

To translate this look in Owen's words, it probably is- don't be ashamed, this is in Bubbaston, you are shameless, Hogwarts still wants it!

After pressing Owen, Dumbledore continued to smile and chat with Lady Maxime, the two of them seemed to be talking about some kind of game or something, but the other party was clearly resistant, and seemed to be worried about the recent incident in England. and discontent.

This kept Dumbledore from discussing the topic too deeply.

Like Owen said, he should have been around a lot with the principals of these magic schools.

The game can be placed next year, and he is not in a hurry.

And after not discussing those grand things, the two principals who have dedicated their lives to the cause of education naturally talked about the students around them.

Well, even the wizarding world can't escape the daily routine of relatives comparing themselves with each other during the Chinese New Year.

Madame Maxime praised her excellent student, Fleur, saying that she was the best student in Bubbaston in a hundred years.

Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, was visibly more modest, and in an ambiguous, obscure tone, he said that Owen was probably the best student in the history of Hogwarts Millennium.

As they spoke, the two principals burst out laughing.

There were inexplicably more electric sparks in his eyes.

Owen knew that an invisible war was about to begin.

And as the two important people in this war, Owen and Fleur. After a simple deal with the two mouthfuls, he walked out of the auditorium.

Is it better for adults not to bring children with them?

Very tired.

"Madame Maxim told me to take the guests on a tour of the school." Fleur flicked her long, waterfall-like silver hair.

Proudly and proudly smiled, "Look at how you compare to your Hogwarts." ”

"Hmm—does it count as warmer than Hogwarts?" Walking in the garden, Owen felt the sunshine from the south of France, and the whole person was warm.

"There's no time at Hogwarts when it's hot."

"Is it cold?" Owen's sudden brain circuit made Fleur a little stunned for a while, and the words that she had just prepared that might require mutual scolding were stillborn before she could say anything.

"Cold?" Owen showed an embarrassed but smiling expression, "It's more than 20 degrees in summer and more than 20 degrees below zero in winter." ”

"The black lake in front of the school is frozen for at least four months a year, and there are two months when the water surface is combined with a layer of ice."

"So exaggerated?" Fleur was a little shocked that there was a river outside Bubbston's estate, but it didn't freeze.

"We'll find out when you live for a year next year." Owen replied lightly.

Then, the two walked among the flowers, some talking.

They walked through small golden buildings and finally came to the Quidditch pitch.

"Hey, over there." When the two of them walked through the sea of flowers and enjoyed a beautiful life alone.

Suddenly, a rough voice in the sky interrupted all this!

Then a tall, rugged-looking, strong man rode through the sky on a broom and landed right in front of Owen.

"I know you."

"You're the same Owen, right, the shameless guy who sneaked up on Kureshi and Mazuhe, I've seen a picture of you in the newspaper, what's your name?"

"Harry Potter!" Owen opened his mouth and came.

"You're foolish! I know your name. The boy tossed his broomstick aside and drew his wand from the inside of his robe. To Owen.

"Oh! Am I so famous? Owen grinned, but the look in the boy's eyes turned into a provocation, a mockery.

Why would he know about Owen.

Not for the battle in London, now the whole of France is questioning the teaching of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

They don't care about the Secrecy Law!

All they cared about was why several of their little wizards couldn't beat an Englishman?

It's so dangerous to write, and I feel like readers who come across a more serious historical district will definitely scold me.

(End of chapter)