The Eighth Arrondissement was located on the right bank of the Seine, in the northwestern part of old Paris.
Stretching from Place de la Concorde in the east to the Arc de Triomphe in the west, it sat along the city's central axis and was essentially the heart of Paris.
Tourists and celebrities flocked here, while luxury boutiques and venerable cafés lined the streets.
From Place de la Concorde all the way west, orderly buildings and shops stood on both sides of the road.
Farther ahead lay the Arc de Triomphe. Traffic, pedestrians, and the chatter of tourists blended together, ensuring that the area was rarely quiet from morning onward.
As noon approached, the plentiful but gentle sunlight filtered through the towering plane trees lining the Champs-Élysées, breaking into patches of shifting light across the broad, tree-lined avenue.
Tom and Fleur walked side by side, hand in hand.
Paris in June wasn't particularly hot, and an occasional breeze drifted past, carrying a soft, almost languid warmth that made the whole stroll incredibly pleasant.
Passersby couldn't help turning their heads for a second look.
Tom made no attempt to disguise himself. He looked like a beautiful young man straight out of a myth.
Fleur's beauty was equally striking. Even though she was only in her teens, she already possessed that breathtaking, almost dangerously captivating quality that could bring a kingdom to its knees.
"I haven't been shopping here in ages." Fleur turned toward Tom, a gentle smile permanently resting on her lips. "I think the last time I came was during last year's summer vacation. You came with me then, too."
Tom teased her. "What are you implying? Were you planning to bring someone else this time?"
"Of course! I have plenty of girlfriends, you know." Fleur gave an arrogant little huff. "It's just that they're not particularly interested in Muggle society. Even the latest fashions on the Champs-Élysées can't tempt them. They think the shops in the wizarding world are already more than enough."
"But I think wizarding designers are still at least two levels behind Muggles when it comes to taste and craftsmanship."
The more Fleur talked, the more excited she became, and her pace quickened.
"Come on, let's hurry. I'm going to buy plenty of things today. We probably won't have time to come back here for another year."
As it turned out, Fleur was something of a little rich girl herself.
And her family's wealth wasn't limited to the wizarding world. The Delacour family also possessed considerable wealth and property in Muggle society.
It was a secret that was rarely mentioned in the wizarding world. Even when Tom had compiled his History of Magic, he'd found nothing about it in his research.
It was only when Tom had casually asked about the history of the Delacour family's ancestors that he'd unexpectedly gotten the whole story.
Mr. Delacour had talked for more than half an hour, even taking out several yellowed family genealogies along the way.
The Delacour family had nearly a thousand years of history in the Gallic wizarding world.
Yet their origins actually lay in Muggle society.
And not just among ordinary Muggles. They had once been a noble family.
They were even connected, however distantly, to the legendary ancestor of European civilization, Charlemagne.
In the ninth century, Charlemagne's empire was divided into three kingdoms, giving rise to West Francia.
It was around this time that the House of Herbert was granted the title of Count of Vermandois.
The most famous member of the family during its early years was Herbert II, who had once imprisoned King Charles the Simple of France. At the time, he was one of the most powerful regional nobles in the kingdom.
After the twelfth century, however, the male line of the Herbert family died out, and the county passed through a female heir into the Capetian royal family.
Some members of the collateral branches weren't willing to follow the main family and attach themselves to the royal house.
So they left the family behind and settled along the Oise River.
There, they built an ancient manor and adopted a new surname for themselves: Delacour.
The name "La Cour" essentially meant the lord's manor.
From that point onward, the Delacours became an independent branch of the family.
Several centuries later, one of their ancestors married a witch.
From that moment on, the Delacour family possessed wizarding blood.
Then, several centuries after that, during the religious wars, the Delacour family decided to fully withdraw from Muggle society and enter the wizarding world.
That was when they gradually disappeared from the records of Muggle history.
Even so, they continued to retain considerable assets to this day, including vineyards, rare mineral deposits, and vast tracts of farmland.
Their rental income alone brought in a substantial fortune every year.
That was the history Mr. Delacour himself had told Tom.
Which meant that today, Fleur was going to play the role of a wealthy heiress treating her pretty boy to a shopping spree.
She wasn't just going to buy herself some new clothes. She was also determined to give Tom a complete makeover from head to toe.
Tom had originally wanted to point out that his wardrobe already contained more than enough clothes.
But when he saw how excited Fleur was, he swallowed the words.
Besides, he was already accompanying her out today. Buying clothes wasn't any different from buying anything else.
Just then...
The relaxed, leisurely atmosphere of the Champs-Élysées was abruptly shattered by a commotion.
A huge crowd of Muggles came pouring around a distant street corner, forming a dark mass as they marched along the main road.
Their overlapping shouts drowned out even the chirping of birds and insects in the trees.
At the front of the procession, several people held cardboard signs above their heads. Their demands had been painted in thick red letters with spray paint.
[Drive Out the Wizards! Eliminate the Threat of Humanity!]
[We Don't Want Freaks Hiding in Our Cities!]
[A Witch Hunt Can't Wait!]
[Give Us Back Our Right to Know!]
Several middle-aged men leading the march had flushed red with excitement. They waved their signs while shouting at the tops of their lungs, with the followers around them chanting in unison.
"Everything that happened in New York was real! Those politicians lied to us! There are freaks and aberrations in this world! They're not human! They're monsters! They might be hiding among us! They can use spells to control our minds! Everyone, stand with me and fight back!"
The pedestrians along the street reacted in all sorts of ways.
Some tourists looked frightened and hurriedly pulled their families toward the sides of the road, keeping as far away from the protesters as possible.
Others looked uncertain.
They began wondering whether wizards really existed, discussing the matter loudly among themselves.
Eventually, several people even joined the protest.
You really had to hand it to the Gauls. And to Paris.
Revolution and protests were practically part of the local tradition.
They were always right at the cutting edge of whatever version update the world happened to be running.
"..."
Fleur pressed her lips together. Her feelings were complicated.
Back at Hogwarts, she'd already heard about the news leaking into the Muggle world. The newspapers had made the situation sound extremely serious, but she'd never witnessed it personally.
Without seeing it with her own eyes, it was difficult to truly understand what it meant.
When she'd read the news at school, she could still tell herself that it was merely the reaction of a small number of Muggles.
But when those people actually marched right past her, holding up those signs and shouting those words, she realized that seeing those things happen in real life felt completely different from reading about them in a newspaper.
It was just a simple crowd of protesters.
And yet, they made her genuinely feel the fear and rejection Muggles held toward wizards.
It was almost as though her very presence here was somehow wrong.
Tom tightened his grip around her little hand.
Perhaps because of her Veela blood, Fleur's body temperature was somewhat lower than a normal person's.
"Don't think too much about it," Tom said softly. "Do you know why I don't have that many worries?"
Fleur turned her head to look at him.
Tom gave her the answer. "Because aside from you people, I rarely care what anyone else thinks. And I'm certainly not going to worry about what those people think."
"I live for myself, not for people who have nothing to do with me. Whether they hate wizards or like wizards, that's their business. As long as they're simply expressing their opinions normally and don't bother me, it has nothing to do with me."
"But if they become a threat to me, then they're my enemies. And if they're my enemies, why should I care whether they're wizards or Muggles?"
"Darling, if these people like shouting, then let them shout. Think of them as a TV show. Or just background noise. You don't need to take it to heart."
Fleur gave a faint, bitter smile. "Tom, I'm not nearly as thick-skinned as you are."
"Like the first time we met. You were just a second-year who'd barely entered the wizarding world, and you still killed those poachers without hesitation. If it were me, even now, I don't think I could bring myself to kill them so easily."
"...But I do think I'm more resilient than Hermione. If she were standing here right now, I bet her eyes would already be red."
At that, Fleur couldn't help giggling.
The oppressive mood she'd been feeling only moments ago suddenly became much lighter.
Tom rubbed the top of her head. "If Hermione ever heard you say that, she'd probably send you ten letters just to lecture you."
"Hehe. You won't tell her, right?"
"Depends on how you behave tonight."
Under Tom's guidance, Fleur stopped paying attention to the noisy protesters.
Even when they passed right by the crowd, she didn't spare them another glance.
There was even a trace of mockery in her eyes.
Two wizards had just walked openly past them, and not a single person had noticed.
These people could shout slogans all they wanted.
The people wizards really needed to worry about weren't them. It was the people in power.
And so far, no government, including the American authorities, had officially made a statement regarding the existence of wizards.
That silence was an attitude in itself.
The noisy crowd gradually disappeared into the distance.
Just as Tom and Fleur were about to enter a shop, a female reporter accompanied by a cameraman suddenly stopped them.
She wore an enthusiastic smile. "Hello, handsome sir and beautiful lady! I'm a reporter with TF1. Could I borrow a little of your time and ask you a few questions?"
The cameraman had already hoisted his equipment onto his shoulder, pointing the lens directly at the two of them.
Several pedestrians nearby also stopped to watch, curious about what these exceptionally good-looking young people would say.
Fleur frowned slightly.
She was about to refuse outright, but Tom gently pressed down on her hand.
"Sure. Go ahead and ask."
.
.
.