Hadrian walked briskly down the hallway, just short of a run. The small holiday they had been given had quickly run out and now the year was really picking up in terms of schoolwork. The only difference this year had to all the others before it was the subtle thrum of energy that seemed to surround every student and teacher.

Hadrian hated it.

Everywhere he turned the Triwizard Tournament was on someone's tongue. He never thought he would miss the inane conversation topics and scandals his classmates used to find so interesting.

But what he hated even more than the now official reviving of the tournament, were the eyes and whispers dogging his every step. It seemed most of Beauxbatons had already decided he would be their champion.

Well, he thought with a slightly bitter smirk, they are going to be disappointed. He had no intention of signing himself up for a death match between countries. It was bad enough he had to go as a representative.

In fact, that was where he was heading now. Two days ago he, as well as twenty-nine other seventh years were asked to attend a small meeting with their Headmistress. They were not told what the meeting was about, but considering everyone asked to attend were the top students in their year, it did not take a genius to put two and two together.

Still, it rankled him just how fast everything was progressing. Éric had assured him it would take almost a month to pressure Scandinavia to agree, and yet not two weeks after France folded, word of Scandinavia's approval had reached them. Hadrian had thought he would have more time to prepare himself for his inevitable return to his birth country – and now he was becoming agitated.

He was almost positive Voldemort was somehow behind Scandinavia's severe lack of fight.

Hadrian quickly scaled a staircase and took a left, his destination coming up.

The Headmistress had chosen one of Beauxbatons' duelling halls to host the meeting, given the size of her audience.

The white door was already ajar when he reached it, and he could make out the buzz of multiple voices just inside. Clearly he would be one of the last to arrive. His lips thinned.

Without further ado, Hadrian slipped into the hall and kept himself close to the marble wall. A quick scan of the room allowed him to spot Claire and Raina. He wasted no time in sliding up next to them.

"And here I was hoping you had died." Raina stated bored, not even bothering to turn her head to look at him.

"And miss a chance to torment you with my presence?" Hadrian tugged on her braid with just enough force to snap her head back. Raina shot him a look, murder in her eyes.

He grinned at her.

"Go to hell Evans." she hissed.

"Oh sweetheart, out of the two of us, you would be more at home there."

"What are you two bickering about now?" Claire snapped.

"Merely how I cannot wait for Raina to shed her mortal skin and re-join the other demons in their fiery kingdom." Hadrian smirked and turned back to the girl in question. "Tell me honestly, does it hurt pretending to be human? Craving the souls of the innocent lately?"

Raina rolled her eye. "You are such an arsehole Evans."

"I'm hilarious." The two girls shared a glance at his response, amused at how certain he sounded.

He could practically see the scathing response on the tip of Raina's tongue, but whatever delightful comment she wanted to make was cut off by the sound of the door opening fully. As one, all the students present straightened to attention with the swiftness of those who had years of experience.

Hadrian watched as their Headmistress glided down the path the students created for her. For such a tall woman, her gracefulness would be momentarily surprising to anyone not accustomed to the sight. Hadrian could still remember the first time he had seen Madame Maxime in person, and with amusement recalled how he had had to crane his neck back to even glimpse at her face.

To an average sized man she would be several heads taller. To a scrawny eight year-old she positively towered.

Madame Maxime smiled down at them once she reached the small raised platform usually reserved for the presiding referee of a duel. She hardly needed the extra boost to her height, but Hadrian supposed it was just a formality.

"My students," she began, the sweet words filling the air like a caress. "I am positive that at this point you would have deduced why we are here?"

No one nodded or spoke to confirm her words, it was rhetorical question after all. Only an idiot would not have figured it out, and it was safe to say that if one were an idiot they would not be present for this meeting in the first place.

"The Triwizard Tournament has been restarted, and as it once was, our prestigious academy will be competing." Her sharp dark eyes trailed over them with all the intensity of a lioness. "It goes without saying that you are the best of Beauxbatons. And with this title comes a responsibility to your academy."

Madame Maxime ran one hand over the fur collar of her dress. "You will be sent to Britain as our representatives. As such I expect you all to hold yourselves with the respect and dignity befitting students of Beauxbatons."

Such simple words. But Hadrian could feel his classmates bolstering under Madame Maxime's speech. He wondered if he too would be brimming with the same excitement at the prospect of being a champion, if he was not slowly filling with anxiety over the whole event. He liked to think he was smart enough to see passed the ephemeral promises of glory.

"While at Hogwarts I expect you to maintain your studies to the highest degree, especially in joint classes. We must show those…lummoxes what proper wizarding students look like." A ripple of laughter echoed through the room, and despite the break in their expected demeanour Madame Maxime did not reprimand they for it.

Her comment stirred a thought. Hadrian could not help but be curious as to what the curriculum at Hogwarts was like, how it differed from what he learned at Beauxbatons. Obviously their different culture would have an impact, with them placing more or less value on certain subjects depending on its weight in their society. It will be fascinating to see how the differences influenced the students as well.

"It's going to be you." Raina murmured to him. Hadrian blinked and shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye, surprised the girl was talking to him. Their relationship was tempestuous at best, and downright vicious when they clashed over something. He was well aware that the only reason they even interacted as much as they did was their close ties to Claire. Claire had latched onto him a few years ago, and Raina – as Claire's closest friend – put up with his presence if only to keep her friend happy.

Hadrian and Raina had just never clicked. They tolerated each other, respected each other, but beyond that there was nothing more than the desire to crush the other.

With a careful glance around them, and half an ear paying attention to the Headmistress as she continued to speak, he leaned slightly towards her. "Not necessarily. There are plenty of worthy students here."

The look she levelled at him was both disbelieving and scornful. "We might be the best, Evans. But you are the best of us. It is almost cruel of Madame Maxime to get our hopes up." Raina tilted her chin towards the other students. "There might be plenty of worthy candidates to be our champion, but compared to you?"

There was a flicker of envy and weary resignation in her eyes. "Compared to you we do not stand a chance."

Raina was a powerful witch – probably one of the closest challenges he had in their year – and she was exceedingly prideful. Admitting this to his face had probably felt quite similar to conceding to defeat.

He thought carefully about how to best respond to her without rousing any suspicions as to his plans. That was the last thing he needed right now. "I may be powerful and intelligent," there was no arrogance in his voice, just cool fact. "but it takes more than that to be the champion. It is foolish to discount everyone else." He sent her a sharp look. "Especially yourself."

Content that he had put the matter to rest Hadrian tuned back into his Headmistress' speech.

"– champion is one of you. We must present a united front to the other schools. Regardless of who is chosen, I do not doubt that you will all do whatever it takes to support our champion." Hadrian felt a grin kick up the edges of his mouth.

Blatant permission to cheat if we have to. How sportsmanlike.

But his humour fell flat when a tightness entered Madame Maxime's elegant face.

"I will not lie, my students. This contest is exceedingly dangerous, and the threat of death will hang like a shadow over our champion. Do not make light of this decision. There is an expectation for you to nominate yourselves, but I tell you now that there is no shame in not doing so." Something soft smoothed over the harshness of her face.

It seems Éric was not lying after all. Some do not fully agree with the tournament.

Hadrian was slightly comforted by the fact that Madame Maxime appeared to be disillusioned to the hype. She, at least, appeared to understand the severity of the situation; and the fact that she felt the need to explicitly highlight the danger facing them was one of the reasons Hadrian held her in such high esteem.

"In one week we will depart for Hogwarts, please ensure you have sufficiently prepared yourselves and include all necessary pieces of school work. For those of you taking subjects not provided at Hogwarts, I will be holding classes and assessing you. That is all."

At her dismissal, all the students gave a short, respectful bow before trickling to the exit. Hadrian moved with Raina and Claire, and spotted Jacob ahead of them already slipping through the door with a few other boys.

"Mr. Evans." Hadrian paused and pivoted to see Madame Maxime gesturing for him. Raina and Claire had both stopped as well, the three of them acting like a stone in a river as the other students flowed around them.

Hadrian noted more than a few of his peers were staring curiously at him. No doubt they were wondering why he was being called back, or perhaps they were expecting him to be.

Without a word to Claire – it appeared Raina had already let herself be swept away – he strode back towards his Headmistress. The enormous woman smiled kindly down at him, somehow not making him feel like a child despite their ridiculous height difference.

He came to a stop in front of her and dipped his head in respect. It was not necessarily a rule to do so for the Headmistress, but Madame Maxime was the type to inspire such admiration without actively trying.

"'adrian," she greeted, her French accent sounding impossibly thick now that she had switched to English. "'ow 'ave you been?"

"I have been well Headmistress," in contrast, his own accent only had a tinge of French – a by-product of being raised by someone with a British accent. "is there something you wished to speak about?"

Madame Maxime inclined her head. "Indeed. Come, we will walk and talk."

He fell into step beside her, politely held the door open for her, and remained silent as they slowly moved through the marble hallways. Hadrian did not know if they had any destination in mind or if Madame Maxime simply desired to travel aimlessly while they spoke.

It was not the first time Hadrian had been asked to speak privately with the Headmistress. Ever since his fourth year – where his skills really began to outclass his peers – Madame Maxime had taken an interest in him. She often took the time to inquire after him, whether it be his classwork, his mother's health or discussions about where he would go in the future.

He knew what this one would be about though.

"I 'ad 'oped to speak to you about the tournament before we departed." She began. "I am sure you are aware 'ow…favourably your classmates view you, no?"

"You mean their belief I will be the champion?" He could not help the small trace of wiriness. "It has not escaped my notice." He looked up at her in time to catch sight of the small smile on her face, before it was wiped away.

"You may not 'old the same assurance, but even you must see 'ow likely your chances are?"

He let out a small sigh. "I admit there is a strong possibility I could be chosen, but I refuse to let that cloud my mind. Just because I might be chosen, does not mean I will be."

Madame Maxime conceded to that with a dignified nod. "Of course, 'adrian, of course." She stopped suddenly, prompting him to as well. They stood facing each other in an empty hallway for a few moments, a tenseness building in the air.

Finally, the Headmistress reached out and gently gripped his chin with her fingers.

"Is it selfish of me to pray you are chosen?" She had slipped back into French, her words so soft he almost missed them. But they froze him nevertheless. "This tournament was absurdly dangerous centuries ago, and I fear that it will only be worse now."

She must have seen his confusion because she was carrying on in seconds. "I know you are not foolish. You know who is behind this." Her fingers slipped away from his skin and her hand fell to her side.

Hadrian hesitated before speaking. "Lord Voldemort."

The woman breathed harshly. "A man renowned for his cruelty and power. I have no doubt that the tasks will be horrible for the champions to endure; but that is why I wish it to be you." Her dark eyes scanned his face. "Out of all my students I feel you are the most prepared to face these challenges. You are one of the strongest young wizards I have encountered, and I do not only mean your magical abilities."

The woman gazed at him with such sincerity that it was almost unnerving.

"I speak of your character. You are a wilful young man, and possess a resilience hard matched. That, more than anything, is why I wish our champion to be you. Because I know you would be able to overcome the challenges, and have the most chance of surviving without any…damages."

Hadrian remained quiet, though his thoughts raced with the force of a hurricane.

Madame Maxime seemed to understand his need to be alone because she grasped his shoulder to squeeze it comfortingly before brushing passed him.

OoO

That night Hadrian lay awake in his bed.

Am I being selfish?

His conversation with Madame Maxime had rattled something in his brain. He did not like the path his thoughts were travelling down, because he could already see the conclusion he would reach if he let himself stray.

I am protecting my mother and I from a far greater threat. He reasoned.

But at the expense of your classmates? You would willingly sacrifice one of their lives just avoid the chance you might be discovered? How proud your father would be of you. Another part of him whispered slyly.

He is dead. I doubt he is feeling much of anything right now. And there is no guarantee that the Beauxbatons champion would be killed if I did not nominate myself. Your point is flawed.

Ah, but we both know you would be consumed by guilt if such a thing happened. The voice almost sounded amused. All those treacherous 'what-ifs' and 'could-have-beens' would begin to creep in. For someone so adamant about keeping your 'friends' out of your travesty of a life, you are remarkably content to throw them into danger.

That is not what this is! If I became champion I would be under intense scrutiny, and the last thing I need is people paying more attention to me than necessary. I cannot risk the chance that Voldemort would become suspicious. I cannot risk everything we have worked for being destroyed. Besides, I can still offer support to the champion and help prepare them accordingly for each task. It is not like I would abandon them to death!

The other voice was silent, and Hadrian could not tell if that was a good thing or not. All he knew was the words rang heavily in his ears, and he could not seem to shake the oily sensation of selfishness that seemed to cling to him.

A muffled noise snapped him from his thoughts and he turned his head to see Jacob watching him from his bed. The other boy's eyes were half-lidded and glazed with drowsiness, but aware and fixated on him.

"What's wrong?" the other questioned softly, shuffling so he was on his side facing Hadrian. His hair was tussled and stuck out at odd angles, and the sight made something warm spread in Hadrian's chest. It was times like this he was glad they were split into pairs for their rooms.

"Nothing Jacob, go back to sleep."

"Are you sure?" He could see that the longer they spoke the sharper his friend's eyes became. He had no desire to talk about what was troubling him – that would just lead to another argument between them.

So he put on a smile for Jacob, a small soft thing. "I'm fine Jacob. I just have a lot on my mind." Under his duvet he waved his hand and sent a wandless, nonverbal sleeping spell at the other. It had hardly any magic behind it – not enough to completely knock Jacob out, but just enough to make the urge to sleep seem a little more insistent than it was.

Jacob hummed something as his eyes fluttered closed and Hadrian sighed, refocussing his gaze to the white roof above him. Jacob would thank him in the morning for giving him a restful night.

He would have to write to his mother, let her know when they would be leaving and to inform her of his plan to avoid becoming champion. He would do that in the morning though, during his first free period when he had time to sit down and properly construct it.

The thought of his mother just stirred another aggravated trail of thoughts to his head. They had left on a bad note, and now he would not get a chance to see her until after the tournament ended and he returned to France. Which meant months away from her with limited communication. Because while Hadrian doubted it would be difficult to write to his mother while he was in Britain, he did not want to chance having his mail intercepted or monitored in any way that could reveal something crucial.

Enough, I will deal with this in the morning. He forced himself to stop thinking and rest so he would be prepared for tomorrow's classes.

OoO

Almost the entire academy had come to see them off. Hadrian could see the mass of blue-clad bodies below them clogging up the main garden.

It was predawn right now, painfully early for even them to be awake and trudging up the side of a mountain. Late last night their luggage had already been transferred into their carriage, a small mercy as far as he was concerned. He only wished they had not already positioned the carriage on the runway, which was far above the school.

"I do not see why we cannot just use portkeys to get there." Claire grumbled from his left. Hadrian huffed a chuckle and held out a hand to help her steady herself. The path they were walking had long ago been worn smooth, but that just made it more difficult to walk on the higher up they went. Already, a few had slipped.

Claire accepted his hand with a grateful smile and together they moved the last few metres into the cave mouth. Instant relief at having reached the runway rose. Hadrian tugged his friend after him as they moved towards the carriage itself.

It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The soft blue colour with golden highlights, craved to magnificent detail with all manner of magical creatures. On each door was Beauxbatons coat of arms.

"They are beautiful." Claire whispered. Hadrian followed her gaze to the Abraxans already connected to the carriage with their harnesses. And she was right. The magical horses were simply stunning to see, even as they pawed the ground and were clearly agitated at being trapped in such a confining space.

Soon enough they were able to climb into the carriage and were welcomed to the sight of an expansive lounge room filled with lush seats, thick carpets and a roaring fireplace that was already ablaze and filling the carriage with warmth. The interior was remarkably similar to the academy itself, even down to the palette of soft blue, stark white and gold.

It felt like home.

"Hadrian!" The call snapped his eyes over to Jacob, who was waving for him to join him by the entrance to a hallway.

He gave a small squeeze to Claire's hand before letting it go and making his way to Jacob. The other boy was grinning at him. "You must see our rooms, they're fantastic." Was all he said before grabbing Hadrian's arm and pulling him down the hallway, which was lined with beautifully painted doors.

"I have already taken the liberty of claiming one for us, and our luggage is already inside." Jacob pushed open one of the doors and stepped aside to allow Hadrian full view of the room. It certainly was as impressive as the rest of the carriage. It reminded Hadrian vividly of their dorm rooms, only far grander.

The two beds were gorgeously decorated with blue sheets and more pillows then he thought necessary. Hadrian made his way to the one without wrinkles – clearly Jacob had already taken it upon himself to claim the other one – and smoothed his hand over the material. Silk.

Taking a seat on the edge of his bed Hadrian swept his curious gaze over the rest of the room. The walls were white, with the occasional splash of gold, and he could pick out several decorative carvings in the pieces of furniture.

Intricate vine patterns along the bed frames and headboard. Images of faeries on the dressers – looking far more innocent then they were in reality. Winged horses on the desks – so realistic they almost seemed to be moving in the dark mahogany.

It was a beautiful room, open and light, and he noted briefly the magnificent glass chandelier hanging from the roof.

He wondered how stunned someone who had not grown up surrounded by this type of extravagance would be. It seemed his years at Beauxbatons had dulled his perceptions a little, if he was hardly fazed.

"What's through there?" he asked, gesturing to a separate door. Jacob waved his hand dismissively.

"Bathroom."

Hadrian had no doubt the bathroom was just as – if not more – luxurious then the bedroom. He would explore it later when he showered. Instead, he let gravity have its way with him and fell backwards, bouncing slightly as he hit the mattress. Jacob made a soft noise from where he stood and Hadrian bit down a grin.

It seemed gravity was not the only one that wanted to have its way with him. "When are we leaving?" he asked quietly, feeling slightly drowsy now that he was on a comfortable surface after being forced to wake up before dawn. His eyes slipped closed.

"No clue. I would imagine soon though if we want to get there reasonably early."

Hadrian hummed. He could hear Jacob rummaging around for something but did not bother opening his eyes.

He was forced to move though when something heavy landed on his stomach. He grunted and reflexively shot up while Jacob chuckled at him. Hadrian glared at him, and retaliated by hooking his ankle around his friend's and jerking it out from under him.

With a curse Jacob tumbled backwards into his own bed, complete with flailing arms. "Arsehole." the other boy spat, looking distinctly ruffled.

"Bastard." Hadrian snipped back, turning his eyes to the thing Jacob had dropped on him. It was a red leather-covered book that had no title. "What's this?"

Jacob shrugged, "My father asked me to give it to you, sent it along late last night. I didn't look."

Hadrian cocked a single black eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?" Éric would hardly give him something without there being some meaning behind it. Jacob shrugged and lounged back on his bed.

"Probably."

"As helpful as always." Hadrian muttered. He picked up the book and turned it over and over in his hands, debating what it could be. He finally opened it, flipping through the worn papers and seeing a majority of it was handwritten notes, with the occasional diagram. He paused on one and studied the detailed sketch of a creature.

He racked his brain and quickly supplied a name to it. Nundu. One of the most dangerous creatures in their world. He flipped some more and came across a drawing of a Hungarian Horntail.

Acromantula.

Demetor.

Manticore.

Quintaped.

Why would he send me a book on dangerous creatures? Hadrian thought with a confused frown.

"So?" Jacob prompted airily from where he was staring at the ceiling.

"I'm not sure." Hadrian murmured, eyes running over the notes rather than the pictures themselves. From what he could see there were pages of information on each creature, from their strengths and weaknesses, to myths – both magical and muggle – involving the creatures.

He finally went to the first page, where he found a short jotted note in Éric's elegant writing.

For the future. Take care.

Hadrian almost snorted. How incredibly cryptic of the man. Of course it would have been too difficult for Éric to explain himself.

There were three sharp knocks at the door, and Hadrian snapped the book shut. He could hear Claire calling for them. "Madame Maxime is aboard and everyone is accounted for. We are leaving in a moment. Come and see the take off."

"I guess that's our cue, come on." Jacob let out a quiet grunt as he stood and made his way to their door. Hadrian took a moment to slide the book under one of his pillows for later perusal before he went to join his friends.

Everyone was gathering around the windows, no doubt exhilarated to see their take off. Hadrian only felt a small stirring of wonder, the joy he always got whenever he witnessed impressive feats of magic. But it was heavily shadowed by the feeling of dread.

In only a short amount of time he would be at Hogwarts, the very heart of Voldemort's territory. He would be surrounded by his enemies, in constant danger and unable to communicate with his mother. He was smart, and knew he could get through this, but the reality of the situation was still suffocating.

And in a small, insignificant part of his mind there was the ever swirling curiosity. Hadrian had always ignored it, content to instead focus on his hatred. Now though…

He was going to finally meet Voldemort. The man that had always been a part of Hadrian's life, an obstacle he would have to overcome, a threat he would have to neutralise. Sometimes, when he was younger, Hadrian had often wondered if the man was even real, he just seemed so untouchable.

And despite everything, that curiosity remained. He wanted to see the man, to know what made him tick. It was a dangerous thought he never shared with his mother – one of the only things he kept from her – because he knew how she would react.

So instead he focussed on the hatred that was always within easy reach. It boiled under his skin.

His hands clenched into fists behind him as he watched Claire and Jacob take up a position by another window, talking loudly with excitement. Their voices became a buzz in his ear as his breathing became harsh. He embraced it and allowed it to replace the curiosity.

He would finally meet the man that murdered his father, the man that had so royally fucked up his life by targeting their little family so many years ago. And he would not be able to do anything about it.

He would have to avoid notice, keep his head down and not misstep as he had with Malfoy. He could not afford a mistake, because while he had managed to divert Malfoy, he knew without a doubt that if he slipped in front of Voldemort he would be finished.

OoO

"My Lord."

Crimson eyes leisurely trailed over to the bowing figure. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Lucius." His gaze easily picked the shiver that ran through the man's body at his voice.

The blond man straightened, cautiously, as if unsure he was allowed. The respect and fear that swathed the pureblood was as amusing as always. He turned back to his book and leaned his cheek on his fist, picking up from where he had left off.

Lucius waited, head slightly bowed as he waited for his Lord to address him. If it were anyone else Lucius would have been offended at being made to wait, especially seeing as he was the one summoned. But Lord Voldemort did as he pleased, and if he wished for Lucius to stand quietly off to the side while he read, then Lucius would do so.

Minutes rolled by until finally, Lucius heard the soft sound of the book closing and his Lord standing. He peeked through his eyelashes to watch the man smooth down his robes and walk towards the wall lined with bookshelves.

Long, pale fingers danced across the titles before they rested on a gap and slid the book back into its place. "What do you have to report?"

Lucius raised his chin to stare directly at the man.

"My Lord, we have received word from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They are on their way and should arrive within the hour."

He could make out the satisfied gleam that entered those mesmerising red eyes, and felt a jolt of pleasure at being the bearer of good news for his Lord. He did not know the real reason behind his Lord's decision to revive the Triwaizard Tournament, or if there even was some ulterior motive, some grand scheme already in motion.

Lucius doubted he would be told if there was, or at least not a moment sooner than his Lord wanted him to know.

"Excellent, I am pleased." His mark thrummed in agreement to those words and the sense of euphoria flooded him, clogging his mind. "Were there any complications during your trip?"

His Lord had moved to his desk and was shuffling through a number of pieces of parchment. It seemed he already moving on to other matters.

Lucius shook off the lingering pleasure and replayed the question in his head. Unwillingly, a flash of burning green crossed his mind, as well as a voice.

"What's your name, child?"

"Curious?"

Obviously his delayed response did not escape his Lord's notice, and Lucius once again found himself under the scrutiny of the powerful man. There was an intensity to the crimson gaze, and for a brief moment Lucius wondered if the man had used legilimency.

He cleared his throat.

"There were a few politicians that rose complaints, but I was able to…persuade them to see reason. Only one required a more personal visit."

"Which one?"

"Éric Korin, my Lord."

Amusement bled into the man's expression. "Ah, yes. I had forgotten Lord Korin had joined the French Council. I trust you handled the man surreptitiously."

"Indeed, my Lord." He paused, considering. "I believe Korin's son, Jacob, will be attending the Tournament."

His Lord had returned to his papers. "And? What impression did young Mr. Korin give you, Lucius? Is he 'champion' material?" There was an odd tone to his Lord's voice, something mocking. It gave Lucius pause as he tried to decipher it, but he pushed on.

"I did not get the opportunity to speak to the boy. There was…" he forcibly stopped himself from mentioning the second child. He doubted his Lord would be interested in hearing about an arrogant mudblood, one that stupidly questioned the man. "There was no time." He amended when he realised the break in his sentence was too obvious to be brushed off.

His Lord spent a moment to watch him closely, as if he knew there was something he was holding back. Once again an image of the boy slipped to the front of his mind.

His Lord blinked and hummed. "Very well, that will be all Lucius. Please ensure that the students and staff are gathered at the appropriate time, as well as the dignitaries. We must provide a warm welcome to our guests."

Lucius bowed and left the room.

Voldemort waited until the man had left the office before leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers and frowning lightly. He closed his eyes and brought up the image he had managed to pluck from Lucius' shielded mind.

It was a child, roughly sixteen, though he could be younger. Dark tussled hair and bright green eyes. He had no idea why this child was on Lucius' mind, but if he had to guess he would say the boy had been present during the meeting with Korin.

With a considerate hum, he pushed the image away and focussed back on the reports on his desk. He had a significant amount of work to complete before he had to attend the arrival of the other two schools.

Something troubled him though, a sense of familiarity he felt when he saw the brief flashes of Lucius' memories.

OoO

"Hadrian."

He glanced up from the book Éric gave him to see Claire looking at him as if he had somehow failed all of her expectations at once. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

The part veela sighed from her place by the window. "Drag your nose out from that book for a moment and come here." Annoyed that she was breaking his attempt to forget his looming doom, but knowing the girl would simply become more insistent and distracting if he ignored her, he went over to her.

He stopped next to her and waited expectantly. Claire rolled her eyes and forcibly turned him to face the window, "Look." she ordered sternly.

Humouring her, Hadrian turned his gaze to the countryside he could see zooming passed beneath them. They had crossed into Scotland not too long ago, and he knew they would be coming up to their destination soon.

"Not down, you idiot." Claire snapped. She pointed further along, more towards the horizon. Heaving a sigh, as if she were a demanding child and he the obliging adult, he followed to where she pointed.

And promptly lost the ability to breathe.

Because he could see it.

"Hogwarts." He whispered.

Before them was an enormous body of water, glistening in the rising sunlight and bathing the ancient castle on the mountainside in a beautiful array of pink and gold. Each window was like a shining diamond thanks to the reflexive light and simply added to its splendour.

Instantly, he felt all his anxiety drop away. It did not matter that his worst nightmare dwelled in that castle, it did not matter that he was about to be in constant danger.

Nothing seemed to matter as he watched the beautiful image grow larger until he could clearly see all of it in perfect detail.

"It is no Beauxbatons," Claire murmured in his ear, leaning against him. "but there is something striking about it, isn't there?" Her blue eyes switched between looking at Hogwarts, and looking at Hadrian. She felt a smile tug at her lips at how enraptured he was.

He is as remarkable as the castle. She thought privately.

She had noticed how withdrawn Hadrian had been acting since returning from their holiday. She also knew there was no way he would tell them what was bothering him. She briefly wondered if it was his mother. Hadrian rarely mentioned anything about his home life, it had taken them almost three years to find out his father was dead.

Claire still remembered their first year at Beauxbatons, the joy at finally being able to move from the junior school and into the official academy. She remembered how everyone had their parents there to wish them luck, and how Hadrian had stood alone the entire morning.

Claire remembered asking him where his parents were, and how simple Hadrian's response had been.

"My father's dead, and my mother couldn't make it."

She wanted to ask him what had happened, if he had had a fight with his mother, or if there was something else affecting him. However, every time she opened her mouth the words died in her throat.

Hadrian did not talk about his personal life. She doubted he would reveal anything now.

So instead she sighed and wrapped her arms around him, trying to impart to him her silent support. He was still gazing reverently out at the castle but she could feel the tension bleeding out of him the longer they stood like this.

She did not want to think about how chaotic their lives were about to become. Claire knew there was a high possibility Hadrian's name would be called as their champion. There was barely any contest between Hadrian and the rest of them, so who else could it be?

The thought that her friend's life would be in danger left her feeling cold and made her want to hide him away from this entire tournament. The only comfort she had was that Hadrian was exceptional, and he would have the support of Beauxbatons best. Even if he did not win the tournament, she would be there to ensure he came out at the end alive and safe.

"Attention." Claire blinked as Madame Maxime's voice rang out all throughout the carriage. Hadrian broke away from her, and they turned to see their Headmistress standing in the middle of the lounge room. Slowly, all of them emerged from wherever they had wandered and gathered in front of the formidable woman.

"We will be landing in a matter of minutes, I expect you all to be prepared and properly dressed for our arrival." Here, Madame Maxime's dark eyes pointedly lingered on some of the students who had either removed their school blazers, or were looking a touch rumpled.

Claire heard Hadrian's sigh and glanced at him. There was a grimace on his face. He looked as if Madame Maxime had just handed him a death sentence.

"Be here in five minutes, and pair up. We are to be greeted by the British dignitaries and," Madame Maxime halted, "the Dark Lord."

Claire felt her heartbeat quicken. To think that someone as powerful as the Dark Lord would be in front of them, so soon. It would be absolutely incredible to see the man in person. Surely everyone would be feeling the same burst of nervous excitement she felt in that moment.

If she had looked at Hadrian, she would have seen that not everyone did.