"Friedm, I heard there's a rather fascinating advertising board at the forest's edge. Let's have a look together!"
Friedm, who was watching some passing leprechauns, didn't catch what Draco said before being dragged toward the woodland border.
Seeing Draco's amazed expression, Friedm looked up: "How's that then? Brilliant, isn't it? Lys made it. That model was originally just someone else's advertising board."
Draco's wonder shifted to his father's friend behind them—whose features were scrunched together from sucking an Acid Pop. The amazement faded, replaced by something rather indescribable.
But when he turned back to witness the silver droplets and blossoms bursting across the ground, he couldn't suppress his awe once more.
Friedm was still prattling about his sister's intended functions for the broomstick: "...right now it's like a large Flying Broomstick with dreadful performance."
After this summary, he pulled Draco back toward the tent area—there were loads of peculiar pets, foreigners, and various... er... wizard-like beings there.
Such as right now...
"Sorry, sorry! Lys! Ah! Help me! Lys!"
"You can't treat me like this! I'm telling my father!"
Right under Lys's nose, the two children slipped away for just a moment and plucked a feather from a Veela who was berating her husband. She promptly knocked each of them on the forehead several times.
Lys hadn't even finished her yawn before hastily bowing in apology.
But the furious Veela, incensed by her husband's complaints, was so livid she could barely speak coherently. Her face gradually elongated into a pointed bird's head with a vicious beak, whilst her already somewhat feathered shoulders transformed completely—scaled plumage covering them as they became wings that she used to pummel her husband's skull.
Lys fled awkwardly with both children through the magical fire the Veela was hurling everywhere.
Seizing both children by their collars, she examined them thoroughly. Good—no serious damage.
Just that both lads' foreheads were rather red from that hot-tempered Veela's knocks.
Observing the feather still clutched tightly in Friedm's fist, Lys truly couldn't fathom why this child had been obsessed with 'feathers' since birth.
"What's happened here!"
The escalating domestic dispute attracted the French Aurors patrolling this section. They stared at Lys gripping the children—children still clutching that feather—and froze momentarily.
Upon spotting the raging Veela nearby, they all relaxed considerably.
They even consoled Lys and the boys: "Ah, terribly sorry. Our cheerleader staff member has a slight... issue requiring internal resolution. If there's nothing else, you're quite free to continue your tour."
The official even thoughtfully cordoned off an area for the Veela to vent properly.
Lys observed carefully, noting the Veela's husband seemed perfectly fine—even somewhat enjoying himself—before departing. She tapped her wand tip against both children's foreheads, and the faint red marks vanished instantly.
As Lys departed with the two lads, she failed to notice the French Auror captain studying her retreating figure with uncertain eyes for quite some time.
Gripping Friedm's collar, Lys lectured him: "Only cause as much trouble as you can handle. You can't even manage a warming charm without reducing roast meat to charcoal, yet you're provoking adult wizards?!"
Friedm kept his head down, not daring to speak. Draco beside him asked with genuine confusion: "But weren't you there?"
He gazed up with pure bewilderment, completely missing Friedm's frantic gestures below.
"I was there? Naturally I was there. Of course I'll do everything within my power for my family until my dying breath. But Draco, some things can't be accomplished through willpower alone. A curse happens frightfully quickly, and you both must understand—many uncontrollable situations begin with seemingly trivial incidents."
Lys's grey eyes suddenly reminded Draco of his mother, though his mother had never regarded him with such icy coldness. Miss Rahm's current gaze resembled the serpent draped across her shoulder.
Shivering instinctively, Draco nodded obediently.
"Friedm."
"Yes, Lys. I mustn't fear trouble, but I shouldn't actively court it either." Friedm winked at Draco.
Truth be told, Friedm hadn't actually yanked the feather free—it had been dangling precariously from the Veela's arm, wavering before his eyes, and he simply couldn't resist plucking it loose.
Releasing her grip on Friedm's collar, Lys adjusted her left arm guard and gloves whilst checking the sky. "Fancy playing a bit longer, or shall we dine early and rest so you can rise early for tomorrow's match?"
The children conferred briefly—they wanted more playtime, since their seats weren't together and Lucius wouldn't permit Draco to wander freely. So they dashed off to the Irish section for extended revelry.
Sporting clothes adorned with dancing shamrocks, the pair didn't bid farewell until darkness descended.
Friedm lingered before the Malfoy tent, watching Lucius collect Draco before turning back toward Lys.
At that moment, Lys was dismissing Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports, who'd sold her the tickets.
"Naturally I'll indulge your little hobby, Bagman, but you know I'm travelling with a child—gambling hardly sets the proper example. However..."
Lys produced a bag of Galleons at precisely the right moment. "To express gratitude for your assistance, what was that wager you mentioned?"
"Ireland wins but Bulgaria catches the Snitch!"
"Hmm, rather demanding conditions, those. Perfect then—that's my choice, Bagman."
Though Lys meant 'take the gold and we're square,' Bagman interpreted differently. He seemed genuinely invested in his little pastime.
He earnestly wrote Lys a betting receipt and signed his name with flourish.
Whilst waiting, Lys noticed Bagman had a rather odd-looking wand tucked in his belt. Curiosity piqued, she inquired.
"That wand in your belt—why does it look so peculiar?"
"What? This thing?" Bagman replied whilst scribbling his note. "The Weasley twins used this to supplement their wager. You know them—Arthur's boys."
Bagman's round face displayed amusement: "You've never seen such entertaining little contraptions. Watch this!"
He pressed the note into Lys's palm, withdrew the wand, and cleared his throat theatrically.
"Squeak!" The wand he was flourishing suddenly transformed into a rubber chicken.
"Brilliant, isn't it? Rather entertaining! Your wager was actually their suggestion too. I'm quite fond of those lads—tremendously amusing young men..."
Mid-speech, Bagman spotted Barty Crouch Sr., Head of International Magical Cooperation, approaching with evident urgency.
He hastily bid Lys farewell and advanced to engage Crouch:
"The Triwizard Tournament in three months—we'll be overseeing that as well! Dear Crouch, surely you're not planning to..."
This left Lys standing alone, mentally analyzing the possible alchemical principles underlying that wand's construction.
"Blimey," Lys rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "that really is rather fascinating."
"Lys, can we head back now?" Friedm tugged at her sleeve hem, drawing her from contemplation. He was growing tired—they needed an early start for tomorrow's match.''
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