"So why are the Death Eaters after him?" Harry asked.
"They raided a huge stash of potions," Dumbledore said, looking somewhat puzzled. "According to my old friend, the Death Eater claimed Voldemort has returned. Hmm… perhaps that's why Headmaster Karkaroff is so on edge? They've always had their own ways of communicating, or rather, secret channels for information."
"So he thinks Voldemort's back out there, gathering his old followers and taking revenge on those who betrayed him," Harry said, rubbing his chin. "No wonder Karkaroff's in such a hurry, practically dragging his students here from the first day of term. Are you sure your friend's all right? Like, not under the Imperius Curse or anything?"
"Unlikely," Dumbledore replied, though he seemed a bit uncertain. "I'd say he's something of a master when it comes to Memory Charms. If his memories had been tampered with, he'd likely notice. Honestly, though it's not exactly ethical to say, I'm rather curious why he's still alive after being tracked down by Death Eaters."
"Maybe he struck some kind of deal?" Harry speculated. "To save his own skin, you know."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said calmly. "But we can't condemn him for something like that without proof."
The students were whispering incessantly. It was a chilly evening, with night already fallen and a bright white moon hanging over the Forbidden Forest. They were busy guessing how the representatives from the other two schools would arrive.
"Quiet, please!" Harry suddenly shouted. "The Beauxbatons delegation has arrived!"
"Professor! Where are they?!" a student called out immediately, but Harry didn't need to answer. Everyone soon spotted a massive shape soaring swiftly over the Forbidden Forest, heading toward the castle.
"What is that?! An airplane?!" a first-year student shrieked, clearly from a Muggle family.
"Don't be ridiculous… it's a flying house!" another student retorted.
Under the students' eager gazes, a gigantic powder-blue carriage landed on the open ground in front of the castle, pulled through the air by twelve magnificent winged horses—Abraxans, each the size of an elephant. Harry had ridden them before during his time at Beauxbatons.
The carriage bore an emblem of two golden wands crossed, each emitting three stars. The door swung open, and a boy in a pale blue robe leapt out. He fumbled on the ground for a moment before a golden spiral staircase descended. Then, Madame Maxime stepped down from the carriage, her towering height eliciting gasps from the students. Aside from Hagrid, they rarely saw someone so tall—especially a woman.
Harry began clapping to welcome her, and the students quickly followed suit.
Though he'd once privately imagined pairing Madame Maxime with Hagrid—their heights were strikingly similar—she was distinctly different from him, at least in appearance and demeanor. Today, her hair was swept back into a shining bun at the nape of her neck, and she was draped in black satin from head to toe, with opals gleaming at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Harry stole a glance at Hagrid and noticed his eyes fixed on Madame Maxime, clapping absently.
Got it, mate, Harry thought.
In such a formal setting, the meeting between the two headmasters was naturally more solemn than Harry's last encounter with Madame Maxime. The only issue was his height—or lack thereof—compared to hers. When she extended her hand, Harry's attempt at a courteous hand-kiss was, to put it mildly, a bit awkward. There was no mistaking the stifled giggles from both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students.
"Dear Madame Maxime," Harry said earnestly, ignoring the laughter, "welcome to Hogwarts."
"Headmaster Potter," Madame Maxime replied in her deep voice, "I trust you've been well."
"Thank you, everything's going smoothly," Harry said with a smile.
"And of course, you, former Headmaster Dumbledore," Madame Maxime added, clearly an old acquaintance of Dumbledore's, as she smiled at him. "I hope you're well, too."
"Very well, thank you," Dumbledore replied, performing a hand-kiss with ease. Despite his age, his height allowed him to do so without bending at all.
"My students," Madame Maxime said, waving a hand behind her. The Beauxbatons students had already disembarked and were curiously eyeing Harry and the towering Hogwarts castle.
"Let me introduce you, Harry," Madame Maxime said with a smile, pulling forward a girl wrapped tightly in a scarf, revealing only a pair of striking blue eyes. "Fleur, I mentioned her to you when you visited France, remember?"
"Of course," Harry nodded. "Pleased to meet you, miss."
"Likewise," Fleur said confidently. "You're younger than I imagined, but I believe you're Headmaster of Hogwarts because of your exceptional abilities."
"Thank you," Harry said, smiling. "I hope you'll enjoy your time at Hogwarts."
"I will."
"Well, it seems you've already made introductions," Madame Maxime said, clapping her hands. She glanced around. "Has Karkaroff arrived?"
"Not yet, but he should be here soon," Harry replied. "Would you like to wait or head inside to warm up?"
"Let's go inside," Madame Maxime said. "Oh, and our horses—you remember what they like, don't you, Harry? You got along so well with them during the holidays."
"Single-malt whisky," Harry said with a grin. "They're excellent mounts. I'll have Hagrid take care of them."
"Hagrid?"
"My Care of Magical Creatures professor," Harry said, gesturing toward Hagrid. "Trust me, he's an expert in this area. You can rely on him."
Madame Maxime glanced at Hagrid, momentarily taken aback by his size, then quickly turned back. "Perfect, then," she said, giving a slight bow before addressing her students. "Follow me."
Harry returned the courtesy and watched as the Beauxbatons group headed into the castle, accompanied by Professor McGonagall, who would guide the guests.
Durmstrang was late. By late October, the evening chill had many students shivering in the breeze, craning their necks to the sky, speculating about what kind of carriage Durmstrang might arrive in.
"Wait, look at the lake!" Lee Jordan suddenly shouted, pointing at the Black Lake.
The once-calm water began to churn, waves crashing against the damp shore as a massive whirlpool formed in the center, as if a giant plug had been pulled from the lake's depths. Within moments, a grand black ship rose from the water, gleaming under the moonlight, reminiscent of ghostly vessels from old tales.
As the ship neared the shore, an anchor splashed into the shallows, and a plank was lowered. The passengers disembarked swiftly.
Compared to their last meeting during the holidays, Karkaroff looked far more haggard, his ornate robes unable to mask his weariness.
"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff's eyes lit up as he stepped ashore, calling out enthusiastically. "My dear old friend, how are you?"
Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, Karkaroff rushed over, ignoring his own students.
"Quite well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"Oh, that's wonderful, truly wonderful," Karkaroff said, visibly relieved as he shook Dumbledore's hand vigorously. "Hogwarts is lucky to have you. Everyone knows it's only safe with you around. Splendid."
"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said lightly. "Last year, I stepped down precisely because I failed to protect Hogwarts in time. In fact, I believe Headmaster Potter has done a far better job than I ever did."
"Er, of course, of course," Karkaroff said, as if only just noticing Harry. He extended a hand. "Headmaster Potter, naturally… I only meant Dumbledore's experience, you understand."
"I'm just a guest," Dumbledore said with a shrug, committing to nothing.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Headmaster Karkaroff," Harry said calmly, shaking his hand. "Please, come inside. The Beauxbatons group has already arrived."
"Yes, Hogwarts… dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff said, looking up at the castle. His smile didn't reach his eyes, which remained cold. "It's good to be back—I mean, it's good that Beauxbatons is here. Let's get inside and warm up. Viktor! Come here!"
"You must know him, Headmaster Potter," Karkaroff said, his smile finally carrying some genuine warmth as he mentioned the name. "Viktor Krum—the best Seeker in the world, I'd say! You're something of a Quidditch star yourself, Potter. You'd understand, wouldn't you?"
Viktor Krum's appearance sparked an even louder cheer from the Hogwarts students than Beauxbatons' arrival. As a Quidditch celebrity, his fame among wizards needed no explanation.
Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins were among those jumping and craning their necks to get a better look at Krum, some frantically searching their pockets for pens to get his autograph.
Krum had a prominent hooked nose, thick black eyebrows, and a muscular build, though his cloak concealed much of it.
"Hello, Headmaster Potter," Krum said politely, bowing before speaking, unlike Karkaroff. "I've read about your matches. The feints you used have become something many Quidditch players try to emulate."
"Thanks, I know of you, too," Harry said with a smile. "When Professor McGonagall recommended me to the Kenmare Kestrels, they used you as an example to get me special permission."
"It's different," Krum said, shaking his head. "I was much older when I joined the Bulgarian national team. No offense, but will you be playing in next year's World Cup? I hear you haven't played for the Kestrels in a while. Their performance has been… lacking."
"Hard to say," Harry replied thoughtfully. "You know how things are—wizards, Muggles, everything's a mess right now. I'm not sure if I'll have time for the World Cup. Quidditch was always just a way for me to stay active, really."
"That's a pity," Krum said, genuinely disappointed. "I was hoping to face you in next year's match."
"Enough, Krum!" Karkaroff interrupted, clapping Viktor on the shoulder. "Headmaster Potter has far more important things to deal with, so you'll have to carry the Quidditch star mantle on your own. Let's not dawdle—it's freezing by the Black Lake at night."
The guests filed into the Great Hall, and the Hogwarts students returned to their seats, eagerly watching the newcomers. The Beauxbatons students chose seats near the Ravenclaw table, while the Durmstrang group, true to the reputation spread by Slytherin students, sat right at the Slytherin table.
After all, Durmstrang was the only one of the three schools that openly taught Dark Magic, and Slytherin had always prided itself on such studies.
"Look at the Slytherins," Ron sneered. "They're swarming Krum like a pack of overexcited lapdogs. I bet a celebrity like him can see right through their nonsense. Can you believe it? Even Malfoy's trying to cozy up to him. He's embarrassing us shaman apprentices!"
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