Marcelle shifted uncomfortably in her seat and fixed her ragged headdress. The wind blowing in through the carriage windows was ruffling up everybody's hair and making the entire giant flying carriage as cold as ice. Marcelle could just hear the beating wings of the colossal Abraxan Flying horses outside.
She was sitting in the spot where her bed would be when they arrived, next to two of the other girls in her house, one of them the new one who had asked about her the other day. She was eyeing Marcelle warily, clearly judging her threadbare clothing and worn out shoes. Marcelle glared at her and turned her head the other direction, still scowling. She wished that the Headmistress could find a more convenient way of transport rather than a giant pumpkin-shaped carriage pulled by flying horses. It was squishy and stunk inside, and there were no facilities. The girl sitting on the other side of Marcelle was fidgeting nervously as though she needed to go. Marcelle was trying to slowly inch her way away without looking too repulsed.
Headmistress Maxime stood up suddenly from her grand seat at the end of the carriage.
"Children," she said elegantly. "We are about to touch down in Northern Europe, at the Durmstrang Institute of Magic. I would like you all to sit down, hold on tight to the handles in the bottom of your seats and brace for impact," Madame Maxime sat down again.
Marcelle grabbed on to the handles and held on for dear life, her knuckles turning white. She was fine with flying through the air, but the landing was the part that really scared her. She had no idea what would happen. What if we crash in to the ground? What if we bounce up and down? What if we run in to a wall or a tree? What if the whole carriage falls apart?
The carriage swooped downwards, and Marcelle held her breath, her mind whirring in to an all-out panic.
"Help, help, oh lord save our souls, help me, help me, help!" she whisper-shouted quietly to herself, begging fate to spare her life.
The carriage hit the ground with a bump, and Marcelle let out a tiny, terrified shriek, attracting the judgmental stares of several of her peers. The carriage bounced a few times before coming to a slow stop, right in front of the grand doors of the towering fortress. A seventh-year girl sitting closest to the door got up and opened it for Madame Maxime, who elegantly stepped out on to the grass. Gradually the students followed, forming a crowd behind their headmistress.
Marcelle was one of the last out, being highly frazzled by the landing. She stumbled awkwardly down the baby-blue steps and stood at the back of the group, surveying her surroundings. All the Durmstrang students were lined up in front of their doors, which were at the base of a huge tower. The highly fortified castle was made almost entirely of stone, some of which was crumbling away. She could see the Hogwarts students standing on the other side of them, appearing to have arrived by several smaller carts drawn by invisible horses, or something. Marcelle tuned in as Headmistress Maxime spoke.
"Aleksandrov!" She greeted the Headmaster of Durmstrang. "It is so good to see you after all this time. I hope you are well? The students all behaving accordingly? Not teaching them too much dark magic, are you? The Tournament will be awfully unfair if you have." She said very quickly with a strong French accent.
"Madame," his voice was as cold as his ice blue eyes. "I am well, thank you. Now, I invite all of you," he said, indicating the group of Hogwarts students, whose Headmaster had remained oddly quiet and was staring up at the fortress with distaste, "Inside."