Part 4

In what was rapidly turning in to the most awkward silence Hermione had ever seen outside of a movie, Ron - the insensitive and tactless brat, as the girl liked to call him - blurted: "Wait! Harry Potter! You're still alive?"

Hermione winced, feeling embarrassed that such a moron was not only a student, but a prefect as well. She wondered if the Headmaster was already regretting giving Ron the position. From the disappointment look the latter was sending the red head, that is indeed a big possibility.

Headmaster Adler, Hermione noticed, looked on the verge of laughter yet again. Harry's friend, the other boy standing next to him, looked indignant at Ron's words, not that Hermione could blame him. As for Harry himself, he just looked...confused but hiding it pretty well.

"Ronald," Hermione snapped, unable to believe his lack of tact. Harry Potter or not; shock or not; they were still guests and thus should be treated with respect.

"I do not understand why that might surprise you," Harry said, eyes narrowing, "or why you seem to know my name?"

"Of course we know your name," Ron replied, waving his arms around to emphasis his point, "You're the bloody boy-who-lived."

Silence.

"The what?" Harry repeated, tone incredulous.

"The boy-who-lived," Ron repeated excitedly. The little group composed of the other prefects who had also come out to greet the new arrivals were now all murmuring among themselves, occasionally casting looks at Harry. This, Hermione knew, was going to reach the Daily Prophet faster then the blink of an eye.

"Ronald," Hermione tried once more, "This is not the place."

Ron continued regardless.

"You survived the killing curse as a babe," he exclaimed passionately, "You're famous. Don't you know? You defeated You-know-who when he cast the curse at you and it rebounded."

Harry blinked.

"The killing curse rebounded," he mumbled to himself before his eyes widened as understanding dawned upon him. "So that's why she did it."

"I'm sorry my boy," interrupted Dumbledore, looking a little bit more composed then before. "But that's why who did what?"

Harry looked amused now, Hermione noticed. His lips were quirked up at one end, as if he knew a great secret no one else knew.

"My mother," he said simply, "But I do not want to get in to details here."

"Albus," Adler finally broke in before Dumbledore could press his student any further, "Don't you think that keeping your guests out here is bad manner as a host?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said quickly, eyes widening. "Please, do come in. I will personally show you to your quarters."

"That is wonderful," Adler beamed and gestured for the rest of his students to debarque from the jet.

Hermione silently followed Dumbledore back in to the castle, unable to resist throwing Potter a few glances from time to time. Luckily, the boy seemed too engaged in a deep conversation with his friend to mind her indiscretion.

"Potter," Ron hissed, catching up with her. "I can't believe he's here after 6 years."

"I know you are a fan Ronald," Hermione hissed back, mindful to keep her voice down. Getting caught gossiping about their guest was poor form after all. "But do try to keep a civilized manner around him. You are a prefect after all."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rolled his eyes. He was obviously not going to heed her warning. Hermione didn't know why she even bothered in the first place. Ron was like that annoying little puppy who could never be taught. And what's worse? He didn't even have the puppy's cuteness.

Hermione sighed. She really hoped things won't blow up in her face.


"This is smaller then I imagined," said Francois.

Harry cast an amused look at his friend. Francois, despite himself, grew up in the lap of luxury and can be more then a little snob at times.

"Hogwarts may be a private school but it does not have the same funding as Northolt," Harry explained. He didn't mind the size of the Great Hall; in fact, he found the place rather cosy. The charmed ceiling was a nice touch at any rate.

"Looks like they're divided in to houses here as well," Francois continued, looking around at the four tables. Harry noticed different patterned flags hanging above each of them.

"The red one is Gryffindor," the bushy haired girl explained, pointing to one of the tables, "Then we have Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I''m Hermione Granger by the way, Head Girl."

"It's nice to meet you," Harry shook her hand, "If I may ask, how are the students divided?"

"Based on their personality traits," she replied matter-of-factly, "Gryffindor is for the brave, Slytherin is for the cunning, Hufflepuff is for the loyal, and Ravenclaw is for those thirsting for knowledge."

He blinked.

Francois snorted.

"Oh you got to be kidding me," he laughed, "Who in Merlin's name thought that would be a good idea?"

"It has always been this way," the girl said a little defensively and Harry was quick to intervene.

"I apologize for Francois' directness, but we do not see how putting 11 years old in to pre-defined boxes based on personality attributes that may very well change later in life, could be good for their future development. I understand that some people may think that putting children with similar traits together will make it easier for them to make friends but in reality, it gravely restricts their way of thinking. They should, from a young age, learn how to interact with all sort of people. Don't you agree miss Granger?"

"I…" she stuttered, blinking hard, "I…" Put this way, she obviously had no idea why Hogwarts' current system was good either. Poor girl, Harry thought, already so indoctrinated that she no longer questioned the rules.

Harry smiled kindly at her.

"Do not worry," he said soothingly, "We respect tradition. After all, our school is built on tradition as well."

Dumbledore, who had left to make sure everything was ready for them, took that moment to come back to them.

"You may now go sit where ever you want," he smiled, "All the Dumstrang students have already settled down. Dinner will be served in a moment."

"When will we be able to put in our names for the tournament?" Harry asked when he saw the Headmaster already engaged in deep conversation with an older witch at the Head Table. Sometimes, Harry wondered if someone as carefree as Adler was really was fit for being the Headmaster of such a prestigious school. Really, he thought, the man can be such an excitable child sometimes.

"You can do it after dinner," Dumbledore smiled, "And Mr. Potter, if I may talk to you privately after this? I would very much appreciate it."

"I'm coming as well," Francois broke in, "Professor."

His gaze held no give so Dumbledore agreed reluctantly.

"Thank you for protecting my virtue Francois," Harry said in amusement as Dumbledore walked away.

"That man is a master manipulator," Francois said seriously, eyes never leaving Harry's, "You know that, right?"

"I know," Harry sighed. If there was one thing Harry knew it was Dumbledore's reputation. That was another reason he was so grateful he hadn't chosen Hogwarts all those years ago. He couldn't imagine having to go school everyday under the thumb of someone who wants to control your every move. "He has to be. Come, let's not think about that at the moment. We should choose a table and settle down."


They ended up at the Slytherin Table, sitting down next to Victor Krum. Harry noticed that some of the students who had been outside when they had arrived and knew who he was, looked more then a little shocked by his decision. This, of course, made Harry frown. He didn't even go to Hogwarts so why did it seem that they have already put some kind of label on him?

"Victor," Harry said, shaking his head minutely to dispel his concern for now. He forced a smile, "How delightful to see you."

"Harry," Victor replied, smiling as well. "With you as Northolt's champion, we won't stand a chance."

"You flatter me Victor," Harry replied, relaxing a little and easing in to their familiar playful banter. He liked Victor; he had met the man a few years ago when he had seen him train along with his Quidditch team. He was a wonderful player and a talented wizard. Francois, on the hand, wasn't too keen on the Bulgarian. Apparently, he was too flirty for his taste. Harry really couldn't see Victor Krum as "flirty" but he allowed Francois his own opinion. Sometimes, the boy's crush on him could colour his perception of the world. It was an undesirable trait for sure, but an necessary evil that came with being human.

"Your guard dog seem a little on edge," Victor commented off-handedly. Harry could have sworn Francois nearly growled in reply.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. Harry wondered if Francois knew that by acting the way he was, he was playing right in to Victor's hands.

"Who do you think will be Hogwart's champion?" he asked a Hogwart's student with a head of blond hair, turning to him instead of playing along with Victor's game.

"Probably be that Diggory," the boy replied in disgust. The name Diggory sounded familiar, Harry decided, perhaps the boy's father is a member of the British ministry of magic.

"Cedric Diggory," another girl said, pointing out the student in question. Harry followed her finger and his gaze landed on a handsome lad a little older then himself, sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Judging by the number of students hanging on to his every word, he was obviously popular; in other words, a worthy ally to have. "He's one of the strongest students here…or so everyone say."

"How interesting," Harry said, already deciding to go introduce himself at the first given opportunity. Perhaps not today since he had so many things to do after dinner.

With his curiosity satisfied for the moment, he turned back to Victor, "You'll be Durmstrang's of course."

"Of course," Victor replied simply. It wasn't boasting per say, it was a simple declaration of fact. Victor's prowess in the world of duelling was well-known after all. "I can't wait for-"

Unfortunately, Harry never did find out what he couldn't wait for because at that moment, Victor was cut off by a commotion near the front.

Confused, Harry looked up from the man and towards the double doors where a red-headed girl had just entered. She walked towards the Gryffindor table, her gaze vacant, nearly bumping in to a few students as she passed. Surprisingly, no one called her out on it, preferring to scatter away like bugs.

"Who is she?" he asked, intrigued. Something was wrong with that girl, that much he knew.

"That's Ginevra Weasley," the blond replied, his tone odd. "She's…I don't know…She was normal...well, in her own way, up until her second year. Then, it appeared she became another person. Rumors has it she was the one to have opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"Draco," his friend snapped, "You know that's not true. Only the Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber and the Weasleys are sure hell not any where near that."

"She looks possessed," Francois said, eyes still fixated on the girl, "Don't you think so Harry?"

"Hmm," Harry agreed.

The girl suddenly looked towards him, as if sensing his attention and their gaze locked. Harry could have sworn he saw Ginevra's brown orbs flash red for a second before she looked away again.

Harry's smile grew.

Now, wasn't that interesting…

"I know that look," Francois hissed, "Please don't try to find trouble on our first night here. Let's just get this bloody tournament over with so we can go home."

"Francois," Harry mock gasped, "Where is your sense of adventure?"

"As far from you as possible," Francois deadpanned before he returned all his attention back to his food, ignoring Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes.

At the Gryffindor Table, Ginevra ate on, her terrified classmates keeping as much of a distance from her as possible.

This trip, Harry mused, will be a show.