FIFTY SIX – The Riddle House, The Scar

"Frilly sort of place, isn't it?" Flitwick asked, looking down at Beauxbatons as the Hogwarts carriage descended slowly.

Sprout looked out the window. The golden roof of the school reflected the sunlight while the grey-blue walls gave a welcoming impression. Beauxbatons had quite extensive grounds; the whole school was three floors and spread across what seemed like dozens of acres of land. "How on earth do the students get to classes on time?" she asked.

The carriage landed. Flitwick made to open the door, but it did so on what seemed to be its own accord. The Charms and Herbology professors looked across at each other with raised brows.

"Monsieur! Madame!" said an excited, accented voice. "Welcome to Beauxbatons! Madame Maxime eez expecting you in ze Dining Chamber. Dinner 'as been prepared for you. Come, come!"

Sprout and Flitwick stepped out of the carriage to see a man in his mid-twenties beckoning to them. As the professors followed their guide, Sprout began to regret not bringing lighter robes. Beauxbatons had a much warmer and more humid climate than Hogwarts.

"Professors!" Madame Maxime greeted pleasantly enough as her guests from Hogwarts entered her Dining Chamber. "Eet eez vairy good to meet wiz you. Please, sit!"

Sprout sat across Madame Maxime while Flitwick conjured several pillows which he threw on top of his chair before sitting so he could eat properly. He was kind enough to make the pillows powder blue so they matched the rest of the room's décor.

"'Ow are things at 'Ogwarts?" Maxime asked as golden trays laden with food levitated onto the table.

Sprout and Flitwick exchanged a quick look in which, somehow, Flitwick was silently delegated the politician and speaker.

"We can't complain," he said. "You never have the same thing twice at Hogwarts. Each year's always interesting."

"Ah, but of course," Maxime sighed dramatically. "Eet eez quite ze same at Beauxbatons. Tell me," she said, suddenly sounding much more interested in the conversation, "what became of zat Sirius Black?"

"He – er – got away," Flitwick said rather uneasily, shifting slightly on top of his pillows.

"Bah!" Madame Maxime said with a wave of her abnormally large hand. "Zat always seems to be ze case, doesn't eet? I'm sure you will catch 'im soon."

"Whenever Dumbledore wills it," Sprout mumbled as she pushed around a particularly unappetizing looking food item with her fork.

"What was zat, Professor Sprout?" Maxime asked politely.

"I was just commenting on how delightful this looked," Sprout somehow managed to say enthusiastically. She proceeded to shove a forkful of what she had been pushing around into her mouth and immediately regretted it. She only barely managed to keep from spitting it back out onto her plate. Across her, Flitwick tried not to smirk.

"Ah, yes, we 'ave most excellent cooks 'ere at Beauxbatons," Madame Maxime said proudly.

Sprout disagreed whole heartedly, but refrained from making anymore smart comments. The rest of the meal passed with pointless small talk and only once the plates, goblets, and cutlery had melted into the table did Madame Maxime begin business.

"You must tell me what Professor Dumbly-dorr has sent you 'ere for," she said, leaning forward slightly to listen intently.

"He's sent a letter along with us," Flitwick said and delved into his pocket. He pulled out an envelope with Dumbledore's thin, slanted writing on it in purple.

Madame Maxime took the letter, opened it, and began reading while Flitwick and Sprout watched her reaction apprehensively.

"Zis must be a joke," Maxime said after reaching the bottom of the letter.

"There's no joke, Madame," Flitwick said politely.

Thinking quickly, Sprout appealed to Maxime's very evident pride in her school. "The Triwizard Tournament is an excellent chance to showcase our students, Madame, as well as encourage them to work harder in class. Everyone puts in more effort when they're in competition."

"But zis tournament eez vairy dangerous," Maxime objected. "Eez Dumbly-dorr een 'is right mind?"

Anger flared up in Sprout at Maxime's suggestion. "Dumbledore's mind is just as clear and coherent as the next person's, Madame. You've read his letter. He's told you everything he has to say. Will you or will you not bring your students to Hogwarts to compete?"

"I will 'ave to consult my staff," Maxime said, turning her nose up slightly at Sprout, evidently displeased with her.

Also appealing to Maxime's pride, Flitwick spoke up. "We don't want to pressure you, Madame! We can simply ask another school – "

"I 'ave not given you my final word yet, Professor Flitwick," Maxime said, suddenly rather harsh sounding.

"Of course," Flitwick said with a slight bow, refraining from smiling with great difficulty. While Maxime had not given her official answer, he was now quite certain of what it would be.

"Jacques will show you to your rooms," Maxime announced, making it quite clear she had had enough of her company.

Then enthusiastic young man that had led Flitwick and Sprout to the Dining Chamber appeared once more.

"I think that went rather well," Flitwick said lowly as he and Sprout followed behind Jacques.

"Asking if Dumbledore's in his right mind – pah!" Sprout huffed as though the thought had been on her mind for a while. "What a ridiculous question! Of course he is! His mind's just different, is all."

"Weren't you the one that asked him if he was mad when he first suggested the idea to us?" Flitwick asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yes, well," Sprout blustered. "That's different."

"Entirely," Flitwick said with a roll of his eyes.

"It is!" Sprout objected. "You all knew I wasn't serious."

"Are you writing to Dumbledore tonight or shall I?" Flitwick asked, very purposely changing the direction of the conversation.

"I think you'd better," Sprout said.

"Very well," Flitwick agreed. "Jacques, good fellow! Where might I find an owl?"

"I will send one up to your room, Monsieur," Jacques offered. He flung open a door with finesse. "Madame," he said politely, indicating Sprout to enter.

After being shown to his own room, Flitwick sat down to write to Dumbledore to give him an update and vaguely began to wonder if McGonagall and Snape had killed each other yet.


The Transfiguration Mistress and Potions Master stood outside their carriage, cold wind whipping across their faces. No other human beings were in sight and their destination lay behind a rather intimidating and unwelcoming gate.

McGonagall checked her pocket watch and frowned. They were half an hour late. "This is your fault," she told Snape.

"Is it?" Snape asked scathingly.

"Who was it that failed to wake up on time this morning?" McGonagall asked. "Now they've probably gone back inside and who knows if they can see us from so far away?" She looked across the vast grounds of Durmstrang to the castle so far away it looked as though it were only the size of an average house

"Who was it that failed to notice I hadn't gotten up?" Snape asked.

"Do I look like your mother, Severus? You should be able to get yourself up by now, I think!"

"Karkaroff knows we're here," Snape drawled.

"Is that why we're standing outside in this wind?" McGonagall snapped.

"Payback," Snape explained. "We were not punctual and so Karkaroff sees no reason to hurry to get us inside."

McGonagall's eyebrows furrowed. "Exactly how much time did you spend with Karkaroff back in the day, Severus?"

"Enough," Snape said simply.

McGonagall sighed and looked back at the Durmstrang castle. It was a strangely off putting sight. It was smaller than Hogwarts, but that was not at all what made McGonagall uneasy. The fact that everything – the towers, the doors, the windows – was angular and regimented did, and she could see no sign of a warming fire burning inside.

Karkaroff suddenly appeared out of the ground a mere twenty feet behind the gates into the school.

"Professor McGonagall," he said with a bit of a bow, still behind his gate. "Professor Snape. You are later than I expected."

"Someone had a bit of trouble getting up this morning," McGonagall explained.

While Karkaroff took out his wand and opened the gate, Snape shot a glare at his colleague, who seemed not to care at all.

Karkaroff lead his guests across the lawn. He did not take them into the underground passage, safe from the harsh wind, that he had taken down to the gate. This and the fact that there was no warm fire despite the grate in the entrance hall to the castle put McGonagall in even more of a foul mood than she had been upon arriving to Durmstrang.

The interior of the castle was, much like the outside, very regimented, unwelcoming, and devoid of individuality. Pictures were few and far between and all the faces were harsh and judgmental, making anyone walking through the halls feel as though they were being very closely watched.

Unaware of the discomfort and unease of at least one of his guests, Karkaroff shrugged off his cloak and hung it on a stand that had risen out of the floor. Snape followed suite and McGonagall, figuring Snape knew Karkaroff's disposition well enough, followed his example and allowed him to take lead and begin conversation with the head of Durmstrang.

"So Dumbledore has sent you to Durmstrang," Karkaroff said as he began down a spiral staircase, giving no indication of his destination, nor any specific invitation to be followed. "Why?"

"The letter," Snape said quietly to McGonagall, holding out his hand as he began to follow Karkaroff. In a voice of normal volume, he answered, "He wishes to invite you and Madame Maxime to Hogwarts this year."

McGonagall pulled out the letter of explanation with Dumbledore's purple writing and put it into Snape's waiting hand.

"Why would Maxime or I go to Hogwarts?" Karkaroff asked in a tone that suggested the idea was laughable.

"He's written you a letter to explain," Snape said.

"Has he?" Karkaroff asked. "I've received no letter from Dumbledore since he asked to send you here."

"It would have been unwise for him to send this letter by owl," Snape said.

Karkaroff's interest became engaged enough that he stopped and turned to actually look at Snape and McGonagall. "Then you must have it."

Snape held up the letter. As Karkaroff made to snatch it, he pulled it back. "Perhaps you'd like to be sat and comfortable when you read it, Karkaroff."

Karkaroff attempted a smile that did not meet his eyes. "Perhaps so, Severus." He turned back forward and marched on.

McGonagall looked over at Snape, but he kept his head turned resolutely forward.

"Tell me," Karkaroff said as he opened the door to another cold and dark corridor, "how is Hogwarts?"

Snape spared McGonagall a quick glance.

"Hogwarts is just fine," McGonagall said, taking her hint. "Staff and students are all well."

"Did you ever find Black?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, he got away again before he could properly be brought to justice," McGonagall half-lied.

"What is justice?" Karkaroff asked scathingly.

"Where are we going, Igor?" McGonagall asked to redirect conversation.

As an answer, Karkaroff opened a door that led into a large room filled with many rectangular tables, each with only seven wooden, unpadded chairs, one at the head and three on either side.

"We try to have a staff member at the head of every table," Karkaroff explained as he sat down heavily at the most highly polished table. "It's a good way to build camaraderie between staff and students."

McGonagall thought it was more of a way of the staff asserting their power and constantly monitoring their students than to build relationships. In fact, she was sure it was, but knew it would do far more harm than good to voice her thoughts. "You can't possibly have that many staff members," she said instead, looking at the numerous tables around her. Hogwarts was the largest school in their world, and it had fewer than thirty teachers!

Karkaroff showed his yellow teeth once more. "Student leaders are allowed the other open seats."

McGonagall could think of no intelligent reply that was not sarcastic, so she merely nodded.

"Sit," Karkaroff invited, gesturing to the chairs on his left and right. Snape took the seat to Karkaroff's right, McGonagall, the one on his left. "I am seated and comfortable," he announced. "The letter, Severus?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Snape produced the letter from his sleeve and handed it over to Karkaroff, who opened it with a strange flick of his wrist. While the head of Durmstrang read, Snape and McGonagall had a strange sort of nonverbal conversation in which neither of them even moved much, but managed to establish their roles in the coming conversation.

"Bah!" Karkaroff exclaimed, finishing the letter and throwing it down on the table. "This is madness."

"Madness?" McGonagall queried as politely as she could manage.

"The Triwizard Tournament was disbanded; that was decided upon by an international convention. What makes Dumbledore think he can raise it up again?"

"Why he thinks he can isn't why we've come, Karkaroff," Snape said.

"Are you willing to compete?" McGonagall asked.

Karkaroff leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful, weighing his options. "I am willing," he said finally. As McGonagall gave an inward sigh of relief, he continued, "I will bring my students to Hogwarts, but I insist a say in the tasks and organization of the Tournament."

"Of course," Snape said before McGonagall was able to reply. "We'll send word of your reply to Dumbledore and he will arrange a Floo meeting with you and Madame Maxime."

"Wonderful," Karkaroff said with another unnerving smile. He slammed his hand down on the table twice and food began to shoot up out of it. "I must inform my staff of this development." He rose and left without any further instruction or invitation.

"That was hardly worth a trip up here," McGonagall snapped, her diplomatic aura breaking.

"Is Dumbledore sending Fawkes?" Snape asked as he helped himself to the food before him.

"Yes," McGonagall said. She looked at her pocket watch. "About three hours."

"Be sure to mention how easy it was to convince Karkaroff."

"Just imagine," McGonagall said dully, "he'll be at Hogwarts all year." The realization caused her to lose her appetite. She pushed her plate aside to rest her forehead on her hand.

"Do you know if Pomona is going to send you anything from Beauxbatons?" Snape asked.

"If she does, it had better be good news."


Dumbledore

McGonagall

Sprout

Flitwick

Snape


Minerva!

You went through my trunk!

Did I?

Yes, you did! I didn't pack my Notebook!

How odd it managed to slip into your things, then, and how marvelously convenient.

How odd indeed.

What's Karkaroff said?

Durmstrang's coming. Maxime?

It took a bit of – er – convincing, but Beauxbatons will be participating.

Convincing here meaning manipulating?

Manipulating is a nasty word, and don't act as if you didn't!

I didn't. Karkaroff readily agreed.

Eager to show his non-Muggle born school is the best, no doubt. How's Severus?

More surly than usual. Hopefully we'll get to leave soon.

Dumbledore's asked you to stay for some of the negotiations as well?

Well he hasn't said when he wants us back.

Hopefully we'll be back home in time for the World Cup!

Much as I'd like to say differently, I doubt it.

Well Filius and I were sent the contract from the Ministry to have Maxime sign. You'll probably get one for Karkaroff tomorrow or the day after.

I'm surprised the Ministry has managed to do anything not involving the Cup. They really got the contract out?

You know Barty Crouch. As soon as Dumbledore told him about the Tournament he got someone right on those contracts.

Oh, good Lord… Barty and Ludo are going to be at Hogwarts, too!

I like Ludo.

Of course YOU do. HOW he got to be head of a department…

He's a smart boy!

That's just the problem. He's a boy – he never grew up!

Well we can't all be rigorous rule-followers, now can we?

Fawkes just came. I'll see you back at Hogwarts, Pomona.


Author's Note

Your author had a craptastic day and cannot come up with a snarky note. Apologies.

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