Chapter 10

"When the new order is established, abominations like you will be made to live in concentration camps to work for the greater good," said Clamembaut to Philomène Fileur.

Philomène, strengthened by her blood bond, laughed.

"Your new order and your Sun King are too much of a laugh to manage anything beyond a little entertainment for the English," she said. "And by the way, you might want to go look in the mirror to see who is an abomination."

Philomène had been practising reinforcing wordless wandless spells with silent chanting, which acted as a focus or centring technique. Scorning to merely add words to the racist's forehead, she had gently laid on the semblance of a pair of buttocks, and every time he spoke, the anus between them vibrated.

Clarembaut came back from the mirror screeching in rage, which at least gave Philomène time to get a good shield up as he shouted

"CRUCIO!"

"Isn't that an expelling offence in decent schools?" said Philomène.

"It is," said Pharamond, who had turned up with fellow blooded Abelard Feufollet and Jean-Luc Bonheure in response to their little blood sibling's mild concern. "And don't even think of using the Killing Curse, arse-face, because she knows the mirror charm to reflect it right back at you."

"I will duel you! You who think yourself something special," declared Clarembaut.

Pharamond shrugged.

"As you will. Best to get all that silliness out of your system before the visitors arrive and wonder at such a rude fellow amongst our otherwise justly famous Gallic courtesy," he said. "I'll go get a teacher."

Pharamond ran into Homère Tisserand as the first teacher to be found, which did not please him much; though Homère enfolded him in a big, affectionate embrace, and kissed him on both cheeks in a way which was less threatening somehow than being gazed at soulfully and sighed over.

"Pharamond! My little cabbage! I have news to share, and only you and Darryl Zabini would appreciate it and rejoice for me!" he cried.

"Indeed, sir?" said Pharamond, curiosity winning over exasperation.

"Indeed, yes! I have met a wonderful lover, he is a quidditch player, in Marseilles, and we are to live together in the holidays, and I will see him sometimes at the weekends! He is my soul mate," added the History teacher.

"That's marvellous news!" said Pharamond, heartily, grateful to the said quidditch player, and truly glad for a teacher he was fond of, despite the crush the man had had on him. Pharamond was comfortable enough with himself not to be particularly worried, but it had been a little wearing. "I'll write to Darryl," he added. "We keep in touch; he and his wife are teaching in France and Papa is helping to fund them."

He did not add that he hoped the quidditch player was not trifling with M. Tisserand because it would be pretty awful for the poor man to find true love and then to be let down. The wizarding world did not thoroughly approve of homosexuality, largely on the grounds that wizards were small in numbers, and it reduced the number of live ones to breed rather than on the rather odd 'moral' grounds that muggles seemed to find for their prejudices. Pharamond made a silent promise to himself that if the quidditch player did hurt his teacher, said quidditch player would be playing with the word 'jilt' across his forehead.

"I need a referee sir," he said. "The new boy wishes to duel me."

"Oh, that one," said Homère with distaste. "He is of the same ilk as that idiot whom Darryl tricked into killing himself."

"Yes, sir," said Pharamond. "And we need to keep him realising that his beliefs are silly."

Homère brightened.

"Quite so!" he agreed. "How is he to find seconds?"

"The Première can draw lots, and the ones with the short straws have to represent him," said Pharamond.

News of the duel having spread, the Première and Terminale classes had already gathered, along with most of the Seconde, supporting Philomène. Even those who disapproved of part goblins in the school would, on the whole, support one of their own against an interloper. The only problem had been Antoinette Labellette, who by all accounts had been under compulsion by Achille, and was now under the protection of Marauders in Durmstrang. Philomène was sorry for anyone who had had their brain trampled by a creep and wrote to say she had put their encounters behind her, understanding that a compulsion had been involved, and wishing Antoinette well.

It helped, had she but known it, in bringing Antoinette to a greater acceptance that goblins could be civilised as not many pure-bred humans would have been that big.

Homère Tisserand meanwhile drew up a piste, and when there were no volunteers to second Clarembaut, he summoned straws and made the youngsters of the Première draw for the dubious privilege of that office. The losers were Marc Guiscard, and Erzuli Duschesne.

"I hope she doesn't summon a loa to get rid of Rénébreux," muttered Abelard to Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc could not control a snigger; though Erzuli's abortive attempts to try Voudon the previous year had been quite frightening, and without Darryl's knowledge of Comparative Magic might have been dangerous. It would be a while before poor Erzuli lived that down, although perhaps that was no bad thing, to remind her not to meddle in what she did not understand.

"I hope their blood status is not too dilute," said Clarembaut.

"It's as red as yours, and you might find out how red that is if you piss us off," said Marc Guiscard.

"Hear, hear," agreed Stephan Belette, which comment had most people staring, since Marc and Stephan were still inclined to take opposite stands on any matter, despite Darryl's efforts to resolve their foolish rivalries.

"MUST we act for him, sir?" whined Erzuli.

"Yes; you lost," said Homère, enjoying the way Clarembaut was getting angry that serving him was a matter of losing, instead of having all the class fawning over him as he plainly expected them to do.

In some years, he might have managed it. The current Première just happened to contain some of the most contrary pupils in the school who were not contrary in a constructive enough way to Maraud.

Duly on the piste, and as soon as Homère's wand dropped, Pharamond threw up a defensive shield and smiled gently as Clarembaut went for a stinging hex.

"How childish," he said, turning Clarembaut's nose into a honking daffodil.

"You dare speak of childish? You pretty boy who has succeeded only by selling yourself, whatever kind of blood taint you are, I will show you!" cried Clarembaut.

"Now those really are fighting words, and disrespectful of the faculty," said Pharamond, whose golden curls were a sore point with him. "I was just going to play, but if you are going to be rude about my school and its staff – oh, and by the way, I'm a pure-blood, which you, I believe, are not, because I checked your pedigree in the library – then I'm going to play serious and hurt you."

"Not as much as I hurt you! Crucio!" cried Clarembaut. Homère went to stop the fight but Pharamond waved a negating hand to him and shielded. Then he cycled Clarembaut through the most uncomfortable transfigurations he could think of, including owl and tuna fish – the tuna fish did not appreciate drowning on dry land – with excursions into woodlouse and cicada for fun, and finally back to human form where he cast septum sectum to bloody the boy's nose.

"What do you know, it is red not blue," said Pharamond. Clarembaut knew enough to stop the bleeding, and gave Pharamond an evil look.

"I know the mirror spell too, you know," said Pharamond, gently.

"I will find a way to kill you," said Clarembaut.

"So much megalomania in such a little imbecile!" said Pharamond.

"It was you! It was you who put the words on my head!"

"Yes of course it was," said Pharamond. "Had you any desire to get on with this duel or were you about to resign before my infinite superiority?"

Clarembaut cast the cutting spell, aiming to slash across Pharamond's body, to deliberately do what Silvina had once done in a fit of inept anger. Pharamond held his shield firm, summoned popping pustules filled with maggots just for irritation's sake and started chanting.

"What, can't do spells properly?" jeered Clarembaut. "You can't manage anything that isn't half-baked."

The watchers were gasping, and Clarembaut was vaguely aware that his body seemed smaller somehow. Pharamond finished his chant.

"Trouble is, I know plenty of spells to kill but that's usually considered a little inappropriate for a schoolboy duel. However, I think this may inconvenience you."

Clarembaut glanced down at the long goblin fingers that were holding his wand, and lost it.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he cried.

Pharamond had been adding the diffusion grid as the end part of his chant, at least half expecting this. He did not really want to use the mirror charm to kill the boy.

He took something of a headache and shared it around; even the diffusion grid did not prevent a slight effect passing through unless it had been much stiffened.

Clarembaut stared, open mouthed, ashen. Or as ashen as the olive complexion of a French goblin could be.

"That IS enough!" declared Homère, dispelling the piste and putting bindings on Clarembaut. "This must go to the Head!"

"Poor git has never been taught self-control," said Pharamond. "Go easy on him, sir; he's a victim too, in his own way."

Homère snorted, and dragged the bound goblin to Olympe Maxime.

oOo

"Who is THIS?" asked Olympe.

"Clarembaut Bloodsnob Stuckup," said Homère.

"Homère, that is uncalled for," said Olympe. "Why is he a goblin?" she paused "Perhaps I should ask, rather, whom has he irritated?"

"He insisted on duelling Pharamond," said Homère, with unholy glee.

"And nobody told me?" said Olympe, reproachful. Homère shrugged.

"Well, it would have been nothing out of the ordinary to see Pharamond put him in his place, only this boy cast both the Cruciatus Curse, that Pharamond had no trouble dealing with, and then the killing curse."

Olympe paled.

"Homère…. Pharamond…." She swayed.

"He used the English defence and was sporting a zig-zag scar," said Homère. "I hope it fades; it does nothing for his looks."

"Do not frighten me like that and then get lost in trivialities about Pharamond's looks!" said Olympe, angrily.

"Sorry, Olympe. I cancelled the match then, of course, and brought THIS to you," said Homère.

"And quite right," said Olympe.

"It's not fair! He's not allowed to turn me into a goblin, I couldn't help losing my temper!" howled Clarembaut.

"Anyone can avoid using unforgivable curses," snapped Olympe "Ah, but you learn your values from Achille who thought it was all right to use the Cruciatus Curse on a little girl of thirteen," she added. "I think it's an improvement. Did he do that to your head too?"

"No, that was that little half-animal slut in the Seconde whom I was punishing when that boy...URK!"

Olympe was never going to be a world-class transfigurationist but she had pestered Darryl into teaching her the woodlouse curse.

Homère regarded the woodlouse with interest.

"When you negate it will he still be in goblin form or human?" he asked.

"I … well that depends if Pharamond chanted to change him," said Olympe.

"He did," said Homère. "How splendid. If Pharamond won't rescue him I suppose he's stuck like that, unless Desolina will undo the curse."

"As I'm about to expel him for his use of unforgivable curses, I don't see that it's any of her business," said Olympe, calmly, negating the woodlouse curse. "His father can pay someone to take it off; there are at least three curse-breakers in Europe capable of doing so, besides Desolina, and all of them donate such fees to schools educating goblins, so he can be proud to help in that effort." She absently dropped a saponification spell on the goblin Clarembaut, whose language was intemperate.

"Nasty little creature," said Homère.

"I am glad you were not swayed by his good looks," said Olympe.

"Not without danger pay," said Homère.

oOoOo

Clarembaut was over seventeen; not by much, but over seventeen he assuredly was. And rather than send for his father to take him away, Olympe decided instead to hand him over to the French Surveillance de Loi.

"But I did not know that you took full blood goblins, Madame," said the Enquêteur, scratching his head in bewilderment as he regarded Clarembaut. Clarembaut started swearing again and was the recipient of a double dose of saponification, from the wands of both Olympe and the Enquêteur.

"He's not a goblin by natural means," said Olympe. "That's just the sense of humour of the boy at whom he threw the killing curse."

"So this is a murder charge?" the Enquêteur blanched. This was not what one expected in a school, especially the prestigious Beauxbatons.

"No, no, the boy he duelled knows the English protective techniques, and this…this saléte is lucky that he did not meet the mirror charm going the other way. The other boy was concerned about killing another youth, however misguided."

"Hmm," said the Enquêteur. "I need to talk to all who were involved, you understand."

"Of course," said Olympe, who hated the idea, but who would have hated the idea worse had not those involved been at least her more stable youths. Apart from Erzuli, but the girl would just have to live with it. Homère could, as a historian, be relied on to produce an accurate and fairly impartial account, however much he embroidered the tale with malicious enjoyment for the staffroom.

The Enquêteur duly pursued his enquiries, politely but firmly; the French law enforcers were virtually free from either corruption or fear of position, and were much respected by the Aurors, their English counterparts.

"It would be potentially a bias to this young man, one way or the other, if he were to stand trial as a goblin," he said sternly to Pharamond. "I trust you are able to reverse your transfiguration?"

"Oh, certainly, sir, if you wish it," said Pharamond. "He had been offensive about my girlfriend, who is part goblin, and I just wanted him to see that it's not essentially a whole lot different to being human."

"Ah; I see. A not immoderate response," said the Enquêteur, who might have argued not to take to law even an inforgivable curse if cast under the throes of Crime Passionel, a recognised mitigation under French law.

"I try not to be immoderate," said Pharamond. "I am considering careers in politics or teaching, and both require a level head and fast but moderate response to trouble."

"It comes into the needs of an Enquêteur too," said the Enquêteur.

"One must be ready to be such, when dealing with children, sometimes," laughed Pharamond. "Did Madame Maxime think that prosecuting him would be more salutary than just leaving him to stew for a year or so as a goblin? That had been my intent."

"I presume so; after all, she cannot permit anyone to use such curses on her pupils, it is a bad precedent, and not all are as talented as you, M'sieur."

Pharamond nodded. It made sense. Partly he was sorry for Clarembaut to be such an ass, but one could not permit intemperate little ticks to wander about willy-nilly. He chanted to restore the boy to his normal appearance.

He did not remove Philomène's curse. The Enquêteur raised an eyebrow.

"Your work also?"

"No, my girlfriend; she is in the Seconde, and he chose to insult her by calling her an abomination. I thought it cleverer than mere words."

"She is a talented girl."

"I think so," Pharamond was proud. "He arrived saying how wonderful he is and yet cannot deal with removing corridor curses. He is, of course, an agent of Le Roi Soleil, poor brat, and worth using legilimensy on him to see how much is his true belief and how much is compulsion. We've had pupils under compulsion from Achille before."

"Eh bien?" the Enquêteur was startled.

"Yes, a girl was expelled, and it was discovered subsequently that her nastiness stemmed from a deep compulsion. Our temporary chanting professor removed it, and the compulsions in the heads of the rest of her family, but she is happily settled in at Durmstrang now, so has not returned. I have friends there, you understand, who keep me informed," said Pharamond. "It was a habit of the English Voldemort too; some of these supremacists are such inadequate little ticks that they need compulsion to keep control of their followers."

"Phaugh, they are loathsome," said the Enquêteur. "I will take your recommendation on that. If he is acting through compulsion, then he needs medical intervention, not a prison sentence. Do you truly believe he is?"

Pharamond hesitated.

"As it happens, no," he said "But it would be unfair not to consider it, and I would not wish to be unfair. I think he is a spoilt brat who has never been brooked, has always been praised and told how clever he was, and believes that he has the right to do what he wants. And that is almost as much an abuse as if he was beaten every day and told he was worthless," he added.

"Not under the law, though; and I doubt he'd even recognise it as such," said the Enquêteur regarding Clarembaut with disgust. "Thank you for your co-operation, M. Duval; I hope we shall not need to call on you, as you are still a schoolboy, but if we do, I doubt it will come to trial before the end of the Triwizard. You are entering?"

"I am," said Pharamond.

"Then permit me to wish you the best of luck!"

"My thanks; and I hope that I am wrong and that Clarembaut needs more help than punishment," said Pharamond.

OoOoO

When Clarembaut's angry father turned up, he discovered that Beauxbatons employed half-troll security guards at need, and Olympe had floo'd to hire a couple just to prevent that very eventuality. She had hired them for the duration of the first task and could claim it was purely for the Triwizard. The security guards explained forcibly to M. Rénébreux that if their son had been arrested then perhaps he should be talking to the Enquêteurs, as Beauxbatons wanted nothing to do with criminal scum. The more articulate of the security guards enjoyed himself no end visibly despising a wealthy near-pure blooded wizard whom, he had heard, was a racist like his son. It was a sweet moment for someone of a race that was not accounted highly in Wizarding society, save as a weapon to aim.

It might be said that the same security guards were much moved, on the arrival of the visitors, that the English and German children at least mostly called them 'sir' and treated them with respect.

oOoOo

The schools arrived at Beauxbatons in their various conveyances; Hogwarts in David Fraser's Catalina, Durmstrang with its Pirate Ship, Prince Peak with its helicopter, a form of conveyance which also brought the contenders of the London Free School, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy and David Fraser, who loaned one of their taxi company's air taxis. Jade would have liked a rebuilt Tante Jü, a Junkers 57, because of the film from which the Schloss Adler was named, but settled for arriving by coach and flying horse, which scared her own fragile children less for the time being. Gennic was of course the driver. The Marauders and their intimates promptly mingled in such a way that apart from the uniforms it was impossible to tell who came from which school.

Hellibore's school also arrived conventionally by flying coach, though Biirta murmured to Gauda that she'd wager that they flew the whole way instead of using tack enchanted as a portkey, or even utilising nodal shift.

"Hellibore's boys have never even heard of nodal shift," said AHHa, who had overheard. "You guys enchanted tack as a portkey and arrived with your mounts still happy? I'm well impressed."

"It's a matter of training them," said Biirta.

"I'll tell Severus," said AHHa.

"He knows," said Silvina. "Lucius was giggling wildly about it."

"Lucius would," said Biirta, dryly.

"What's happened to the Russians, have they bottled out?" asked Zajala, coming over.

"They're planning on making an entrance," said Eve Cherrytree, then flushed as she came face to face with the Prince Peak contingent. "AHHa, you Marauders, I am sorry I was such a poor prune."

"'S okay, if you know you were, means you aren't now," said AHHa. "A pretty hard lesson."

Eve shrugged.

"It took quite well, anyhow," she said. "I'm the team diviner."

"Are you? Cool!" put in Yrdl. "Our top diviners are either staff or a lad in the second, so we've none along. We had a small disruption from Achille and a few attempts at kidnap from the Russians."

"Oh THAT's what the knot patterns, are, engulfing charms thrown over people!" said Eve. "I say, we need to spread this."

"I think it's about time we made you a Marauder," said Yrdl. "Then you'll understand even more about other sorts of people, and you can pulse people when ideas like that take you by the seat of the pants."

"Your English idiom is more English than most English," marvelled Eve.

Yrdl giggled.

"Thanks!" she said.

Meanwhile Flo had collected Riker and Austin from the London Free School, as they were associated by having a cousin who would be coming to the Prinzhorn the next year, and might as well meet some of the people who would be her prefects.

"My sister wants to come into the sixth," confessed Riker. "If she was only in age, I bet she'd be our best shot as a champion!"

"That's generous of you," said Flo. "Oh our current fifth are a decent bunch, it's a massive class though, sixteen."

"You reckon that a massive class?" said Riker. "We have twenty or thirty in most years now."

"Well, it's massive for Prince Peak," laughed Flo. "There's been a few new people join it over the years; Severus – he likes his sixth to be informal – tries to keep classes to no more than a dozen, but by the sixth it matters less anyway, as you are all divided up into smaller NEWT classes."

"Well there's only the three of us staying on for NEWT," said Riker. "There'd have been five if Storm and Zephyra hadn't gone to Hogwarts, but they look like they're accepted, which is good."

"As I understand it, Narcissa Malfoy roped them and their mothers into her society for marginalised women; their mothers are running a hostel," said Flo, who might not have been a visitor at Malfoy Manor, but she knew most of what was going on.

"They do move in exalted circles!" said Riker, looking pleased.

"They're talented, I believe," said Flo, "and that's what counts to Mr Malfoy and his ladies."

Storm and Zephyra meanwhile said hello in a dutiful sort of way to Jocelyne Todd, who was sneering at them and telling them that they had no hope of being champions of a big school like Hogwarts but that she at least would be competing.

Storm and Zephyra had to resist the urge to jinx her at this juncture.

oOoOo

There was a sudden thunderclap, and the sky glowed, and snow swirled from it, followed by the beating hooves of three perfectly matched white flying horses, harnessed troika-fashion, and drawing a massive sleigh, ringing with sleighbells.

"Knotwork gate," said Zyrillis.

"I wish I knew half of what you people were talking about," said Adam.

"Pattern magic; it's pretty new," said Zyrillis, "Well it is for a lot of us. Don't ask me; the experts in Durmstrang are only fourteen. And Eve, who's been buried in knot magic for the last week or so off some muggle magic device called the interwebs or something. They have enchanted spiders to run about in eclectic wires bringing information."

Adam opened his mouth to explain the Internet and decided that perhaps this was not the place or the time. However, if Marauders rated the Internet for research, maybe he had an advantage in catching up!

Severus was busy cuffing his team, who had started a slow hand clap.

"MANNERS you horrors, let us not be shown as niculturniy in front of these Russians!" he urged them.

"Where's Lilith, sir?" asked Adam. "Did she not slide in with your people?"

Severus gave a short bark of laughter.

"Lilith, bless her, will turn up in her own sweet time. She's quite capable of just putting her name in, and then being there for the results. Don't worry about her! You're new to her group," he added kindly.

"Yes, and Sextus told me to watch her back," said Adam seriously.

Severus forebore to point out that if anyone needed protecting, Lilith was probably the last to be likely to be on that list. Having someone along to watch her back was probably a good idea at that, though Severus also suspected that Sextus would be managing to hover in feyspace too, having had the determination to learn how to use it.

The sleigh circled lazily, which was a waste of time so far as almost all those watching were concerned, since only a handful of those watching appreciated the skill of driving troika fashion, and the greater number of those were goblins. Caspar Jefferson, who drove, applauded politely, and Norman Tugwood joined him, having some hazy idea of the skill, and all of the Schloss Adler contingent, for whom horse handling was a semi-formal lesson. The comment the Russians heard, however, was from Beauxbatons' Hauvoise Nuitobscur, who said,

"Poor things, can they then afford only three horses?"

To have appreciation from goblins and no realisation of the message they brought from any of the major schools was gall and wormwood.

And Severus had to bite the insides of his cheeks to avoid laughing.

"I thought you were supposed to have one out in front and two behind the way Veta and Jo do it," said AHHa, frowning.

"That's unicorn, arguably more challenging than driving Troika, which is suited to driving in snow and on ice," said Severus, "As none of the horses foul the ground for any behind."

"Ah, all this snow that there is in the… South of France," said AHHa, with deep irony.

"Permit them their conceits as have Durmstrang with their silly ship," said Severus.

"Is it then that those schools who are self-confident do not need to show off?" asked Yrdl.

"Oh we all show off, my child," said Severus. "But some of us do it with understatement, and the Russians could have achieved that with a less showy gate and their magnificent steeds with a simple carriage. And before anyone has ANY ideas, it is forbidden to invite the Russians to go skiing and mount insubstantial mountains made of transfigured air."

"Oh bother! You take all the fun out of it, Sir," said Vya, giggling.

"Blitzen!" said Xanthe, suddenly, as the Russian team dismounted their sleigh. "Look what the cat dragged in with the Russians; that's where Aglaia Hallow ended up!"

"They're welcome to her," said Xanthippe.

"At least she never joined the ECC," said Xanthe, "but she DOES know our styles and some English methods."

"And any one of our juniors could jinx her into a ball," said Xanthippe.

This was not entirely true; Aglaia had opted for quantity over quality in the ZPs but she was not by any means an incompetent witch, and Arithmancy was her best subject, which was a basis for a lot of things, including Geomancy at which Aglaia did shine. She was also a competent potioneer and well versed in Ancient Runes, showing her to be capable with the subtle subjects. However, Xanthe decided not to argue the point. It would be interesting to see how the Russians treated Aglaia and how well they seemed to rate her chances of being chosen; because that would give a better idea, perhaps, of their expectations of academic attainment than even duelling with them had done. Some of the duellists had been fairly competent; but how good they were all round would be what was being tested here.

Even if one might be a little concerned that the first test, set by Hellibore's, might be a little pedestrian.

"Only eight, Sergei?" asked Agata Bacso, sweetly, as she counted the Russian contingent.

"I prefer quality over quantity," said Dolokhov.

"Then why did you bring one of my cast-offs?" asked Agata.

"This poor girl was beset by your too-ready love of blood-taints and softness on elves," sneered Dolokhov, "and has come to a school where we know how to deal with such trash."

"I'm sure she's as popular with her new class mates as with her old," said Agata, smiling brightly.

Aglaia glowered at her.

None of the young people with Dolokhov showed any friendship or affection for each other, which might just have been an attempt to show nothing that could be perceived as a weakness in front of the enemy; or it might just have been that they did not find each other convivial.

"Shall we repair within to the Great Hall and introduce ourselves?" suggested Madam Maxime, cheerfully. "Though many of these young people seem well-known to each other!"

"Weddings, symposiums and so on being what they are, Olympe," said David, genially. "Dear me, Sergei, your youngsters are quite on the fringe of society, aren't they? I don't believe even Miss Hallow's branch of her family mix with either Lucius Malfoy's parties, or Eduard Von Frettchen's."

"None of my students would wish to have anything to do with such decadent people," said Dolokhov.

"Decadent? Eduard will raise an eyebrow, but Lucius would doubtless agree quite cheerfully," said David.

"He would," said Jade. "Uncle Lucius is like that. David, I've just realised, we have two school heads – even though I'm junior head – who are past Triwizard winners, isn't that fun?"

"Oh absolutely," said David. "Severus has a habit of training Triwizard champions, after all, Harry and Lionel are from his handwork too."

Severus bowed austerely. It helped him hide the unholy grin at this gamesmanship.

"And I am happy to take on any more of your students who feel that they have not received an adequate education from you, Sergei, as two of your past pupils have leaped at the chance of studying in the decadent milieu of Prince Peak," he said. "They are so glad to have the chance to study first hand the parts of the Zilanti the Sons of Zwilnik – no, I mean the Sons of Zirnitra – so kindly donated last year. We've had sundry members of the Order of the Dragon apply for extra study too, but I was unable to find room for them this year," and he smiled brightly.

Dolokhov ground his teeth.

oOoOo

In the Great Hall, the schools sorted themselves out into school order rather than Marauder and friends order, and waited politely for Olympe to ask them to begin.

"I thought that the three original schools might introduce themselves first," said Olympe, "Followed by Prince Peak and Hellibore's, as being the next to join, then the Free London School, the Schloss Adler and the – ah, bah, I cannot pronounce all this Russian, the Russian Pure Blood School."

"An excellent idea. Alphabetically in each section?" asked David.

"Indeed," said Olympe.

oOo

Beauxbatons fielded twenty-four hopefuls, of whom Pharamond and his friends were three, the rivals Marc and Stephan in the year below them, Eduard Batonnoir, whose ears Darryl had fixed, and indeed the entire of those who had initially signed up for the chanting in those two years, including the two gigglers that Darryl had banned, and probably covering the brightest and best in Beauxbatons within age for being willing to try something new.

Agata introduced her eighteen, who were mostly gazing on Aglaia with amused contempt, including Eve, who was finding acting with solidarity could be most amusing.

David then introduced his contenders, relieved that he had no more than Olympe. The disgust with which the Russians gazed on the goblins was really quite amusing, and David had to poke Jabala gan Kordach quite hard when he noticed suspicious hand movements to cover a wordless spell. Jabala grinned at him unrepentantly. As David had introduced her as a daughter of a Council Member, which snobbery was the only one he permitted, the Russians were even more outraged. Each of the three main schools had its members clapped politely by all the others, with the exception of the Russians, some more than others. The Marauders raised quite a cheer for all other Marauders regardless of school, and Eve was given a good cheer from Prince Peak, which left her rather teary.

Next Hellibore produced his sixteen, who had renewed their acquaintance with the Prince Peak students rather more stiffly than the hugs exchanged between the Prince Peak students and those of various other schools; they looked very self-conscious. They were given a good clap nonetheless.

Prince Peak's contingent got a good yell too. There were Marauders all over.

Dolokhov sneered.

"All of my contenders are of pure blood," he said "So they are naturally superior and any one of them could make the rest of these… contenders… look foolish."

"Just like in the duelling contest," said Xanthippe, brightly.

Dolokhov glowered.

"I will introduce my superior students, despite rude interruption," he said. "The two boys first: Arkadi Volkov, who understands more of the Dark Arts than any of you have a hope of learning…." Here he had to pause as the Prince Peak and Durmstrang contingents burst out laughing, and the Schloss Adler and Hogwarts students sniggered, "….Fedya Charykrovy, who is generally talented at all spells: Avdotya Byerosya, who is skilled with Arithmancy and many other arts; Aglaia Hallow, also an Arithmancer, who also knows Geomancy; Ephresinya Kooveshina, who is both an arithmancer and skilled with ritual…." He paused again and scowled as Yrdl whispered to Crow that she wondered if she was as good as the Prince Peak third years, because if so she really was moderately competent. Dolokhov went on, louder, "Kladvia Mesyatseva, arithmancer; and Palagina Motyileka, also a skilled ritual witch."

Fortunately he did not know the English idiom as Eve murmured with glee that they and their ritual could all get knotted.

"I've only got three," said Neville. "My school is in the poorest part of London, and my kids get their abilities ground out of them by poverty. Having three contenders is marvellous news for me, and I'm dead proud of all of them to have risen above grinding poverty."

He introduced the three, and Hogwarts, Prince Peak, Schloss Adler and a substantial number of the Durmstrang contingent as well as luminaries of the Beauxbatons ECC gave them a good cheer.

"And we have sixteen, which seemed a reasonable number for our size," said Jade, and proceeded to introduce her contingent. Durmstrang gave a good cheer to another German school on principle, and Harald Trollkettil had both feet stood on hard by a twin on each side for starting to ask why they were cheering a school of blood taints and goblin trash.

And then Lilith appeared out of nowhere, walking down invisible steps from near the ceiling, winked at Adam, curtsied to Olympe most beautifully, and said,

"Lilith Snape, sole entrant from the school of Extrinsic Translocation by Jiggery Pokery."

Severus groaned at this piece of flippancy, and Olympe, who had known Lilith since she was a baby, gathered the little girl to her ample bosom for an outsize French embrace.

And now all were gathered.