"I didn't know you were the Elf Queen—and I didn't need to!"
Fleur huffed, her voice laced with disdain. Just because she had a quarter-Veela bloodline didn't mean she had to care about Diana's supposed status. She wasn't raised among the Veela, nor did she owe allegiance to magical hierarchy.
And the truth?
Diana had exaggerated—intentionally.
In Merlin's time, the Elven Queen wielded immense power. Queens like Lilian had aided Merlin in his most legendary exploits.
But those days were long gone. The elves had waned. Goblins and dark elves had long since split from the traditional Elven tribes. Diana's "Queen" title was honored only by the pure-blood elves. To the rest, it meant little.
But Fleur didn't know that—and it was her ignorance that made her fearless.
"There are plenty of reasons I don't call you 'Professor,'" Fleur continued, her green eyes glinting with silvery defiance, laced with mockery.
"I know that when you taught at Hogwarts, students practically fled your classes."
"You taught three sessions of Defense Against the Dark Arts—three!—and now you're cozying up to your former student?"
Fleur's voice rose, biting, as she fixed her sharp gaze on Diana, then flicked it briefly toward Moriarty, her lip curling slightly.
A professor? This is what a professor looks like?
Moriarty didn't say a word. His face was impassive, which secretly pleased Fleur.
Diana, watching the silent interaction, sneered.
So… Fleur still didn't know about her and Moriarty.
Should she tell her?
She glanced at Moriarty. Perhaps not. She still didn't fully understand Moriarty's stance toward Fleur. No need to cause heartbreak and confusion—yet.
Honestly, Moriarty, she thought, annoyed, you put me in this position.
She ground her heel into the floor and, without warning, stomped on Moriarty's foot under the table. Her smile, however, remained elegant and cold.
"Miss Fleur," Diana said smoothly, "you may think you know what went on at Hogwarts, but the truth is buried beneath rumors. Many… thrilling stories unfolded that only professors know."
She turned toward Moriarty and added with a coy grin, "And speaking of students—he was one of the worst truants. Naturally, as a professor, I had to offer him remedial lessons."
Her toes pressed harder into Moriarty's foot.
Fleur's eyes sparkled with disbelief.
*Remedial lessons? In his room? With you?
She was ready to explode. Diana had the audacity to act innocent, while her meaning was crystal clear.
Fleur's nostrils flared. "Moriarty doesn't have time for your 'lessons,'" she snapped. "We're reviewing the Japanese team, if you don't mind!"
And just like that, she slid to Moriarty's right, seized his sleeve, and pulled him slightly toward her. She spread the notebook across her lap with a bold flourish.
Her eyes—bright, focused, unblinking—locked onto his.
Moriarty said nothing, but he followed her movements—his gaze drifting from her hand to the soft white Lolita dress she wore. Her legs, wrapped in pristine white silk, crossed neatly beneath the notebook.
Adorable and elegant.
Irresistible.
And Diana noticed.
She sighed inwardly. She had dashed out this morning with barely any grooming after their long, passionate night together. Now, seeing Fleur's immaculate ensemble stung.
But Diana had magic.
With a simple flick of her hand, her clothes shimmered and reformed—now a long, pale pink, body-hugging dress wrapped around her, topped by a transparent tulle cape. The skirt brushed the floor, flowing over her previously exposed heels.
Silently, she slipped off her shoes and placed her bare, well-shaped feet atop Moriarty's slippers, toes teasing suggestively.
"Miss Fleur," Diana said coolly, "do you even play Quidditch?"
"Play?" Fleur repeated. "I'm one of Beauxbatons' main players."
"Main player?" a new voice interrupted.
The door burst open.
Tonks tumbled in, her face flushed with excitement, holding a Nimbus 1990S broom.
Behind her came a rush of others—Roman, Red Nose, Afro… and trailing last, the ever-chatting Jericho and Maxi.
"Oh, little brother~ That Nimbus 1990S is incredible!" Jericho gushed to Maxi. "If I wasn't starving, I'd still be flying!"
Then his eyes caught Diana.
"Ah—Professor Diana's here too?" he blinked. "Oops. Sorry about that. Got a little carried away."
Tonks, unfazed, spotted Moriarty and grinned.
She didn't hesitate—bounding across the room, leaping into Moriarty's lap, and wrapping her arms around his neck.
A kiss landed on his cheek.
"Fleur!" she chirped. "So you're really a main player?"
"How about a match this afternoon?" Tonks suggested, beaming. "I ran into a few Durmstrang girls earlier—we could throw them into a scrimmage!"
Crack.
Fleur's quill snapped in her hand.
Tonks… in Moriarty's lap.
Tonks… kissing Moriarty.
Fleur's face twisted.
Diana's eyes gleamed in amusement.
Tonks' spontaneity had certainly disrupted Diana's plans—but it had also blindsided Fleur.
Diana could see the girl's shock. She knew Tonks meant no harm—Tonks was free-spirited, bold, and open-hearted.
But intention didn't matter.
Fleur was crumbling.
And Diana?
She stepped up her efforts—only for Fleur to suddenly rise to her feet.
Now things were heating up.
Just as Fleur moved forward, Jericho finally looked up and blurted, "Hey, sir! We're back!"
He scanned the room—and blinked.
"Wait... Professor Diana? And is that… Fleur? From France?! You came all the way to Canada!"
Silence.
Heavy. Unforgiving.
Tonks, realizing the tension, suddenly stiffened. Her hair turned a solemn gray. Her grin vanished.
Fleur's face went pale.
Jericho froze.
"Did I say something wrong?" he whispered urgently to Moriarty, hand half-raised.
Maxi dragged him away without ceremony.
Roman and the others quickly followed, slamming the door shut behind them.
Outside, Maxi shoved Jericho. "Couldn't you tell something was off in there?"
Jericho groaned. "How was I supposed to know Fleur Delacour was in Moriarty's room?"
"We saw her when we arrived!" Roman pointed out. "She flew in just to support him."
"The battle between Senior Tonks and Meiwa Fleur is scarier than any dragon," Jericho muttered.
"What are you whispering about?" a gentle voice asked behind them.
They turned. Penelope Clearwater and Gemma Farley stood nearby, each carrying a thermos.
"We heard something about a battle?" Gemma raised a brow.
Jericho scrambled to change the subject. "Ah—uh, here to see Moriarty?"
Penelope smiled. "Yes. Gemma and I made soup. We shrunk it with a charm and brought it for him—our best wishes for the championship."
The boys stared.
Two more?
They looked at the thermos buckets, faces pale.
Gemma pushed her glasses up. "Step aside, please. We're going in."
The boys parted like curtains.
And then ran—fast.
"What's gotten into them?" Penelope asked. "They look like they saw a fire-breathing Chimera."
"Doesn't matter," Gemma said. "Let's knock."
Inside, Moriarty was just standing when he heard the knock.
He gently shifted Tonks off his lap and went to open the door.
His eyes widened.
Penelope and Gemma were dressed in light Muggle outfits—sweaters, blue jeans, and white sneakers. Each held a thermos, smiling.
"Moriarty," Penelope said, "we brought you soup. Best of luck in the final!"
Moriarty hesitated, then stepped aside. "Come in."
He couldn't exactly slam the door on them.
The girls stepped inside…
…and stopped.
"Professor Diana?"
"Sister Tonks?"
"Student Fleur?"
Meanwhile, outside the hotel, Jericho tiptoed into the open air.
But before he could sigh in relief—
"Blanche?" a voice asked.
It was Lilith.
She was holding a glowing goblet of vibrant blue liquid.
"Is Moriarty in his room?" she asked.
"Y-yes! Absolutely," Jericho said, panicked.
Lilith raised the goblet. "It's a magical food pairing—local Canadian spirits and specialty mixers. It's a new blend."
Jericho gawked. "You brought that to Moriarty?"
"It's not a 'thing.' It's a delicacy." She turned and headed inside.
"Does he even like that?"
"What do you know?" she replied.
Miraculous Food, she called it. A name she coined just for him—born in Greece, reborn in Canada.
Jericho watched her vanish inside.
He turned and ran the opposite direction.
"Merlin's beard—don't let another girl show up."
Roman and the others nodded solemnly and sprinted away.
But as their footsteps disappeared…
A new figure appeared at the entrance.
Mrs. Malfoy.