章 507: 0506 Influence
The crisp October air hung heavy with anticipation as the assembled crowd stood there waiting. Following Dumbledore's reminder, the gathering of young wizards finally spotted their target. High above the ancient Forbidden Forest, where towering pines swayed gently in the autumn breeze, and against a magnificent backdrop of snow-capped mountains whose peaks pierced through wispy clouds, a mysterious black speck materialized in the vast sky.
The gathered students watched in joint astonishment as the object moved with astonishing pace, its size doubling and redoubling with each passing moment. The speck transformed into a blur, then into a more substantial shadow that darted through the air with remarkable elegance despite its growing mass.
"What in Merlin's name is that!" Justin Finch-Fletchley, from Hufflepuff with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, exclaimed with excitement. "Could it be a giant flying carpet?"
His imagination, like those of his fellow students, ran wild with possibilities.
Standing nearby, Hermione wore her characteristic expression of academic disapproval. Under normal circumstances, she would have launched into a detailed lecture about the illegality of flying carpets in British magical territory, complete with records from the relevant Ministry regulations. However, the extraordinary nature of this occasion blocked her usual instructive impulses, and she maintained an uncharacteristic silence.
The young wizards tracked the enormous object's trajectory as it cut through the deep blue sky, its approach accompanied by an increasingly audible whistle. Dennis Creevey, his small body practically vibrating with excitement, even compared it to a house dashing through the air.
The truth was very close to Dennis's description.
When the mysterious object finally revealed itself fully as it soared over Hagrid's hut, the sight drew gasps of amazement from the crowd. There, suspended in mid-air, was a huge powder-blue carriage pulled by a dozen magnificent winged horses– each of those was a pure Abraxan, similar in skin tone to palominos but as big as an elephant in their sizes.
The carriage's landing was also spectacular. To counter the tremendous momentum built up during its flight, the massive vehicle touched down with an earth-shattering impact that sent tremors through the ground.
The sound was like a clap of thunder, causing many of the younger students to cry out in alarm. Professor McGonagall, though visibly startled herself (her emerald-green witch's hat had been knocked askew), quickly restored order with a sharp command for propriety, reminding the students of their duty to represent Hogwarts with dignity.
As the dust cloud slowly dissipated, it revealed a deep furrow in the previously spotless grounds, stretching well over a hundred feet across the lush grass. Filch observed this damage to his meticulously maintained lawn with dismay, his facial features creasing into deep furrows of disapproval.
The moment Madame Maxime emerged from the carriage; Bryan could hear the predicted chorus of astonished gasps from the students behind him. Despite their preparation for meeting foreign wizards, few had anticipated encountering someone, apart from trolls who could rival Hagrid's extraordinary height.
Led by the professors, a round of enthusiastic applause erupted outside the castle. This warm welcome visibly pleased the tall woman who had stepped into the golden light spilling from the castle's entrance hall. Her face softened into a gracious smile as she walked forward to greet Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson, extending a hand that glittered with many sparkling jewels.
The difference in height between the visitors and hosts created an almost comical scene during the formal greetings. Even Dumbledore, who stood quite tall himself, had to just incline his head to kiss her hand in the traditional greeting, while Professor Watson was forced to rise onto his tiptoes to accomplish the same courtesy – a sight that drew several poorly concealed smiles from the watching students.
As Hogwarts' figurehead, Dumbledore took the lead role in these formal proceedings, with Bryan respectfully stepping back to stand beside the Headmaster after the initial ceremonial greetings.
However, Madame Maxime had other ideas. After exchanging the expected pleasantries with Dumbledore, she turned her attention to Bryan, her large, dark eyes, which held a curious quality, fixed upon him with intense interest.
"I 'eard about zat terrible attack at ze Quidditch World Cup Final, Watson—" Madame Maxime's voice reverberated with a deep, melodious quality that seemed to fill the entire courtyard. Her French accent, though noticeable, only added to her air of sophistication. "I 'ad several students who were present at ze time. Zey returned to Beauxbatons with ze most extraordinary tales. Zey described ze scene to me in vivid detail – your magical power is truly awe-inspiring, Watson—"
A hushed silence fell over the grounds as students strained to catch every word of this conversation. The pride radiating from the Hogwarts students was almost tangible as they heard their professor being praised by the headmistress of Beauxbatons. Many straightened their backs and lifted their chins, as if they themselves had received the compliment.
Bryan's response was modest, his lips quirking into a slight smile as he observed the gigantic headmistress.
"Yes—" Bryan said, genuine surprise coloring his tone at her choice to raise this topic in such a public setting. His eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement as he continued, "You've already witnessed my abilities in Paris, haven't you, Madame? I'm quite skilled at creating impressive illusions."
"Oh, not at all!" The protest came immediately from several Hogwarts girls, their voices rising in unified disagreement. Their defensive reaction to their professor's modesty drew knowing smiles from both Dumbledore and Madame Maxime, the latter looking particularly pleased with this display of loyalty.
As Madame Maxime stepped aside, she revealed her students to the waiting crowd, and the contrast between the two schools became immediately apparent.
The Beauxbatons delegation stood in perfect formation, their powder-blue silk uniforms creating a glitter of movement that caught the fading daylight. Each garment had been expertly tailored to its wearer, the fabric flowing like water with every slight movement.
"They're so fancy!" Lavender's admiring exclamation carried clearly across the gathering. Her eyes were fixed on the silk uniforms that seemed to embody luxury and old-world aristocratic refinement. The difference between these elegant outfits and the practical black robes of Hogwarts was plain and impossible to ignore.
"Yeah, compared to them, we look quite shabby!"
Parvati's resentful comment followed quickly, her dark eyes darting accusingly toward Professor McGonagall, who had just ordered her to remove her decorative butterfly hairpin which was her only ornament.
"Ridiculous—" Hermione muttered, her tone quite disdainful, though it was unclear whether her scorn was directed at her classmates' superficial concerns or the impractical nature of the Beauxbatons uniforms. As her practical nature clearly found fault with the entire situation.
Harry observed the scene thoughtfully, noting that while the Beauxbatons students certainly looked glamorous in their formal attire, their choice of clothing seemed poorly suited to the Scottish climate. The silk uniforms, while beautiful, had little protection against the biting October wind. There was no room beneath the precisely fitted garments for warm woolen sweaters or extra thermal layers. Already, many of the visiting students were visibly shivering, clutching their silk scarves tightly around their shoulders in a pointless attempt to ward off the cold.
Just as the Hogwarts students were discussing the Beauxbatons students' attire.
"Meester Watson—!" A young witch emerged from behind Madame Maxime. With one elegant motion, she pulled off her scarf, revealing her face. Her hair cascaded down her back in a silvery waterfall, catching what remained of the day's light and reflecting it back with an almost ethereal glow.
Hiss—
A collective gasp erupted from the Hogwarts queues. Many students stared incredulously at the attractive female student, their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets!
"Incredible—" Ron's voice came hoarse and filled with wonder, his eyes wide with amazement. "This girl... wow, she's really something!"
His reaction spoke for many of his fellow students who seemed equally captivated by the Beauxbatons girl.
"Ah, it's you, Miss Delacour—" Bryan's lips curved into a polite smile as he addressed her. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
The formal greeting, delivered with diplomatic courtesy but little warmth, seemed to displease the young witch.
Fleur's nose wrinkled slightly, a gesture that somehow managed to be both charming and disapproving, but before she could voice whatever thought had provoked this reaction, Madame Maxime intervened with maternal affection. "We'll catch up later, Fleur—"
Perhaps because Hogwarts students saw Professor Watson every day, they don't have a deep understanding of his current status in the wider wizarding world. The Beauxbatons students, however, viewed him through a different lens entirely. The duel at the Quidditch World Cup final had elevated Bryan Watson to near-legendary status in their eyes, and their reactions made this abundantly clear.
As Madame Maxime guided her students toward the entrance hall, each Beauxbatons student who passed by Professor Watson eyed him with awe and barely contained curiosity. Those who had wrapped their heads against the cold hastily removed their scarves, not wanting to appear discourteous. Their behavior caused a surge of pride among the watching Hogwarts students, who suddenly saw their professor through renewed eyes.
"If Dumbledore were sensible enough—" Draco snickered secretly in the Slytherin ranks, "he'd step down right now."
Draco's words sparked agreement among the Slytherins. Every Slytherin student couldn't wait for Dumbledore to leave and for Professor Watson, who came from Slytherin, to take over.
"Quiet—"Snape, standing behind the Slytherin ranks, heard his house students' discussions and lazily flicked a few strands of hair from his forehead as he spoke. But there was almost no sense of command in his tone.
Only after Madame Maxime and her elegant entourage had disappeared into the castle did Ron and his fellow students reluctantly tear their gazes away from the entrance. Many of the boys released disappointed sighs, their attention now turning to speculation about the upcoming arrival of the Durmstrang delegation. Excited whispers spread through the crowd as students debated whether their next guests might arrive in carriages pulled by dragons.
The waiting continued, but the romantic atmosphere created by the Beauxbatons arrival gradually gave way to physical discomfort as the temperature continued to drop. Even students wearing their thickest winter cloaks were shivering in the biting wind. Conversations dwindled as the young wizards focused on staying warm, their earlier excitement tempered by the desire to complete the welcoming ceremony as quickly as possible.
Harry's gaze drifted longingly toward the Quidditch pitch; its tall stands barely visible in the gathering dusk. Under normal circumstances, he would have been there at this hour, completing his daily training routine. The thought of vigorous exercise seemed particularly appealing now, as he imagined the warmth it would bring to his cold-numbed limbs. Instead, he stood here with his fellow students, foolishly waiting in the growing darkness for their final guests to arrive.
In the midst of this anticipatory silence, Bryan's soft observation carried clearly to those nearby. "Madame Maxime looks no different from a few months ago, and the young wizards she brought seem very lively—"
Dumbledore's response was equally leisurely, his gentle smile was visible in the growing darkness. "I agree with your observation, Bryan—"
The grounds fell into expectant silence once more as all eyes turned skyward, watching for the first sign of the Durmstrang delegation's arrival.
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章 508: 0507 The Banquet
The arrival of the Durmstrang delegation was just as spectacular and awe-inspiring as that of Beauxbatons, though in an entirely different way. The autumn evening air was crisp and clear, with a brilliant full moon casting its silvery light across the dark waters of the Black Lake.
"How on earth did that ship get here?" Neville exclaimed in utter amazement, as an enormous and magnificent ship emerged from the depths of the Black Lake. Illuminated by the moonlight, it appeared almost ethereal, like a ghost ship from maritime legends.
The polished wooden flanks gleamed wetly, while dozens of portholes cast warm, golden light across the rippling surface of the lake.
"The Black Lake isn't connected to any ocean! It's completely landlocked!"
Hermione stood beside him with her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Her fingers absently twirled a strand of her bushy brown hair as she contemplated.
"They surely didn't sail here through conventional means," She pondered thoughtfully, her eyes following the water still streaming from the ship's ropes. "I guess the ship must have some sort of dimensional compression charm, allowing it to change size at will, combined with a specialized form of magical transportation that allows it to materialize in any sufficient body of water within a particular distance."
"Cool!" Seamus exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm. He drew in a sharp breath of admiration as the ship's massive anchor splashed into the dark waters with a tremendous crash, sending ripples across the previously mirror-smooth surface of the lake.
The Durmstrang students began disembarking from their ship with military meticulousness. Through the softly glowing portholes, Harry and his fellow Hogwarts students could see their silhouettes moving around. As they emerged onto the deck, their body frames were imposing and somewhat intimidating.
Harry's initial impression was that they all had the same hulking build as Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's dumb bodyguards. However, as the delegation made their way across the sloping lawn, illuminated by the welcoming light spilling from Hogwarts' great oak doors, Harry realized their bulky frame was mostly due to their distinctive clothing.
Each Durmstrang student was wrapped in thick, heavy cloaks made of some kind of rough, matted fur that appeared both warm and somewhat wild in nature. The material looked rough and primitive compared to the sleek, silver furs worn by their headmaster, who led the group with confident steps toward the castle.
"Ah, Dumbledore!" The man called out with exaggerated warmth, his voice carrying clearly across the grounds. His accent was thick but accurate, each word carefully pronounced as he approached the steps where Dumbledore waited. "It's been far too long, hasn't it? I trust you're well?"?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied with genuine warmth, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles as he gave a welcoming smile.
Karkaroff's voice maintained its honeyed tone, though there was something artificial about his warmth that Harry couldn't help but notice.
Though he matched Dumbledore in height and slenderness, the similarities ended there. Where Dumbledore radiated genuine warmth and kindness, Karkaroff seemed to dress his facial features in a carefully constructed mask. As he gazed up at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, his thin lips curved into what appeared to be a pensive smile, but his eyes remained as cold and calculating as chips of ice, showing no real emotion.
As Karkaroff began to lower his head, to inquire if Beauxbatons had arrived even though the massive powder-blue carriage bearing the Beauxbatons crest and its magnificent twelve-winged Abraxan horses were clearly visible nearby.
As he looked away, he finally noticed a figure who had quietly emerged from behind Dumbledore. The man had been standing there all along, watching the proceedings with an inconspicuous smile, but Karkaroff had been too preoccupied with his grand entrance to notice this while climbing the slope.
"Ah, Professor Watson!" Karkaroff's face split into a wide grin that revealed his yellowing teeth. "I was just wondering why I hadn't caught sight of you!"
His voice carried a note of calculated pleasure, like a merchant discovering an unexpected opportunity as he asked, "How have you been?"
"Just idling away the time, Professor Karkaroff—" Bryan responded with characteristic modesty, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that showed he knew exactly what was coming next.
"You're still as modest and graceful as ever, Professor Watson—" Karkaroff strode forward with eagerness. His silver furs swished dramatically with each step as he turned back toward his students. "Even after accomplishing such remarkable feats. Oh, come look, Viktor, this is the Bryan Watson you've been talking about for months!"
Karkaroff gestured to the group of burly students behind him, then spun back to Bryan with the air of a proud father showing off his most promising son. "Ever since he witnessed your performance at the Quidditch match, this boy has been absolutely captivated. He speaks of little else! Your name comes up in nearly every conversation!"
Viktor Krum's presence sent an electric current of excitement through the gathered Hogwarts students.
"Oh my God, can you believe it, Harry!" Ron practically squealed, clutching at Harry's arm. "It's him, it's actually Krum! We met him at the World Cup - remember when he called for Dad to help during the chaos? This is incredible - he's actually going to be Durmstrang's representative!"
Harry didn't need Ron's insistent reminder; he had already spotted the famous Quidditch player among the Durmstrang delegation. Krum was impossible to miss with his distinctive features - that prominent hooked nose and those thick, dark eyebrows that seemed to always furrow in concentration. He carried himself with the same powerful presence he had shown on the Quidditch pitch, though here, among his classmates, there was something more approachable about him.
Just like how the Beauxbatons students had looked at Professor Watson with a mixture of awe, curiosity, and admiration, many of the young Hogwarts wizards fell into a similar state upon hearing Krum's name.
A wave of excitement rippled through the crowd as young wizards pushed and shoved for a better view, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the international Quidditch star who was now respectfully speaking with Professor Watson.
Harry, observing the commotion, noticed something curious. Hermione, usually so easily annoyed by what she considered "Quidditch worship," seemed unusually calm, apparently not at all surprised to see a world-class Quidditch star among the Durmstrang delegation. This caught Harry's attention enough to voice his confusion.
"Don't you remember?" Hermione replied with her typical matter-of-fact tone, though there was a hint of satisfaction in her voice at having known this detail. "That night, before we parted ways with Krum, he mentioned to Professor Watson that he was a Durmstrang student. Given his competitive nature, it seemed obvious he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to represent his school as champion."
Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to recall the specific moment Hermione referenced. But the events of that particular night had been so chaotic, so filled with tension and fear, that the details had become somewhat muddled in his memory. Unlike Hermione, whose mind seemed to catalog every detail with perfect clarity, Harry couldn't quite reconstruct that particular conversation.
The great migration into the Great Hall proceeded with controlled chaos as the heads of houses shepherded their students inside, following the Durmstrang delegation.
The Beauxbatons students had already claimed their territory at the Ravenclaw table, their powder-blue uniforms creating a striking contrast against the sea of black Hogwarts robes. After much shuffling, whispering, and strategic maneuvering for optimal viewing positions, everyone finally settled into their places.
Many young wizards, Ron included, found themselves in a constant state of distraction, their attention bouncing between two magnetic poles - Viktor Krum, who was already surrounded by an admiring crowd at the Slytherin table, and the breathtakingly beautiful Beauxbatons student who seemed to radiate an otherworldly allure.
"That girl must be part Veela!" Ron said hoarsely to Harry, as he stared dreamily at the Beauxbatons girl. His eyes had taken on a slightly glazed look that Harry recognized from the Quidditch World Cup. "How do you think Professor Watson knows her?"
"I don't know!" Hermione snapped; her voice sharp enough to cut glass. Her response came before Harry could even form a reply, and there was no missing the irritation in her tone. "Perhaps he caught her attention by standing there gawking like a mindless troll - much like you're doing right now!"
Ron appeared not to have heard a single word of Hermione's sarcastic reply; he remained mesmerized by Fleur, who was casting frequent, active glances toward Professor Watson at the staff table, her silvery hair was catching the light of the floating candles with every movement.
Dumbledore's voice suddenly filled the Great Hall, carrying easily to every corner despite its gentle tone.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - our distinguished guests," he announced, his face beaming with genuine pleasure as he surveyed the assembled crowd, paying special attention to the visiting students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
Fleur, having temporarily shifted her attention from the handsome professor, was now examining the Great Hall with an expression of barely concealed disdain. Her facial features arranged themselves into a look of sophisticated criticism as she released an unmistakably sarcastic laugh.
"Nobody's forcing you to stay!" Hermione muttered darkly, her patience clearly wearing thin with the French student's apparent superiority complex.
The feast that appeared before them today was truly extraordinary. The house-elves had outdone themselves, preparing an international meal that showcased not only traditional British wizarding palate but also French cuisine and Eastern European dishes.
Golden platters creaked under the weight of exotic delicacies and familiar comfort foods, while crystal goblets filled themselves with various beverages ranging from pumpkin juice to fine French wines (for the staff only, of course).
However, few students could truly focus on the delicious food. Most of their attention was on the visiting students from the two schools, while those like Cedric Diggory, who aspired to become Hogwarts champion, were eagerly anticipating the announcement of the champion selection process.
The appearance of the Ministry representatives halfway through the feast created yet another ripple of interest through the Hall.
"Phew—"
Ludo Bagman arrived looking somewhat disheveled, his round face flushed from apparent fatigue. After exchanging hurried greetings with Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, he leaned in close to Dumbledore, speaking in what he probably thought was a discreet whisper.
"Barty expressed some concerns," Ludo explained between heavy breaths, "so he's personally accompanying the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on their inspection."
"Sounds exactly like Barty—" Bryan commented with a knowing chuckle, his eyes meeting Bagman's for a brief moment. Ludo quickly averted his gaze, showing an almost painful reluctance to maintain eye contact with Bryan.
The sharp pain that suddenly shot through Ron's shin finally managed to break the spell that had held him captive. "Ouch!" he yelped, shooting an angry glare at Hermione while rubbing his injured leg. "Have you gone completely mental again?"
"When you finally manage to tear your eyes away from her—" Hermione replied without a shred of sympathy, "Perhaps you'll notice who's just arrived!"
"What?" Ron's irritation gave way to confusion, but Harry's subtle head nod toward the staff table finally directed his attention to where Ludo Bagman sat, his robes were slightly crooked but his smile was as bright as ever.
"Oh, it's Bagman!" Ron's entire demeanor transformed instantly from annoyed to excited. He turned to Harry with renewed vigor, his previous grievances forgotten. "It's Bagman, Harry! We should go ask to him about the situation!"
To be honest, Harry didn't want to spend more energy on this matter, but he knew how much it meant to Ron, and he understood the significance of several hundred Galleons to him. As Harry hesitated, Ron looked troubled again. His gaze returned to Bagman, who was now toasting with others at the staff table, and said hesitantly,
"Maybe this isn't the best moment, Harry, I mean, Bagman's here for the Triwizard Tournament opening ceremony. We should probably wait for a more appropriate time."
Before Harry could respond, Hermione's exasperated sigh cut through the air. Ron, seemingly eager to avoid another confrontation with her, quickly turned his attention to his brothers, Fred and George, who had been watching the discussion with unusual intensity.
"What about you two? Are you planning to confront Bagman about it? You lost quite a bit of money too!"
"Just let us catch him alone," Fred said with grim determination.
"We're definitely not letting him wriggle out of this one!" George added with equal resolve, completing his twin's thought as they often did.
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