𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺

Chapter 70 - Cerulean and Crimson

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He was the indomitable flame, 

the resilient ivy, the solid cliffs against the violence of the storm.

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Betelgeuse did not see how Sirius could make Potter feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of hundreds of people. It was clear as day that Sirius missed the spectacled boy.

In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry within the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament.

It had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly coloured life story of Harry; much of the front page had been given over to a picture of the boy, and the article had been all about him.

The misspelt names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions had been squashed into the last line of the article.

Cedric Diggory had not been mentioned at all.

The article had appeared ten days ago, and Betelgeuse would have been feeling a raging case of second-hand embarrassment if she had cared enough about the matter.

Rita Skeeter had reported in vivid details an awful lot of things that Betelgeuse doubted Harry had ever said.

A lot of crying over his dead parents and an improbable love story with Granger.

Betelgeuse shook her head, ridding herself of these annoying thoughts as she leisurely wandered through the Reference Section of Hogwarts Library. The section included various books that were sources of information about different subjects, even Alchemy.

Her grey eyes caressed the aged bound covers of ancient tomes with reverent interest, following the curved letters of gilded titles long faded by time.

"Hello," a near heavy accented voice suddenly said beside her.

Betelgeuse turned her head with cold indifference, fixing the stranger with piercing grey eyes.

It was a boy, no, a teenager.

His light blue clothing made of fine silk stood out like a beacon, shining in the dim light of the corridor. A thin blue button-up classic collared shirt under a bright blue blazer with white trimming on the edges, a dark blue necktie, light blue trousers, and dark blue and grey shoes betrayed his original dwelling, Beauxbatons.

The Black studied him with unhurried accuracy.

The young man possessed a sun-kissed angular face; scattered on his straight aristocratic nose were barely visible freckles, perhaps, carried out by long hours spent under the blessing sun. His mouth, rosy like the first roses that bloomed in the cold winter night, was curved into a gentle smile.

Looking at the stranger, the Black thought about Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children. The newcomer's hair shone like the sun, and he had the same casual beauty that Bill possessed, but Betelgeuse could not find in his clear blue eyes, serene like a cloudless summer afternoon, the same slightly proud awareness of his beauty.