Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. If you are actually stupid enough to believe this, feel free to sue me.
Finally, something he liked about this country. He had only been here two weeks, and he was already hating the weather (it had rained almost non-stop since he came here), the way people dressed (how come they were all wearing dresses? How was a man supposed to fight in those?), peoples feelings towards technology (why do they insist on using quills and parchment when there was things like pencils and paper). But, he thought with a smile, they sure knew how to make their lamb chops.
Reaching for the platter to refill his plate, he was surprised when he found that someone was addressing him.
"Hey mate, how come I didn't see you on the train? Speaking of which, how come I've never seen you here before?". This came from a tall boy with blazing red hair, clear blue eyes and freckles covering his face. Smiling, he answered the boy.
"I walked. And I'm an exchange student, so I'd be more surprised if you had seen me here before".
"You walked here? From London?". The boy raised an eyebrow.
"No, I walked from Wick, Scotland", he said as he put the platter back on the table, having refilled his plate.
Their conversation seemed to have attracted the attention of some of the other residents of the table; in this case, a girl with bushy brown hair, large brown eyes and above average-sized front teeth.
"Really? Where are you from?", the girl asked.
"Up north", he said with a smile, refilling his goblet as he spoke. Although it was his first time drinking it, he was getting quite fond of pumpkin juice.
"What school did you go to?". Again, this came from the girl. Swallowing the piece of lamb chop he had in his mouth, he responded.
"I didn't go to school. I was...", he paused, searching for words. "Home schooled. By my grandfather".
"I'm Hermione Granger", the bushy-haired girl said. "This is Ronald Weasley" - she pointed to the red-haired boy - "And this is Harry Potter" - she pointed to a boy sitting opposite to her, emerald green eyes and a curious scar not entirely hidden behind unruly locks of raven-black hair. Harry Potter, eh? This scrawny boy was the great warrior who toppled the Dark Lord? He didn't look like much of a warrior. Appearances can be deceiving. Do not always trust what your eyes tell you. He shook his head as he heard the words of his grandfather echo through his head. He looked up.
"I'm Wolf", he said.
Wolf sighed as he settled himself on the roof. It had finally stopped raining; the clouds were breaking up, allowing a full moon to be seen through the cover. The night had been an interesting one.
All the others had been in an uproar when Dumbledore had told them about le tournoi de quatre-magicien; Wolf, however, had not been. After all, that was why he was here. Le tournoi de quatre-magicien, or the Four-wizard Tournament, as it would be called in English, was an ancient tournament, dating back almost six centuries. It featured a wizard, or witch, from four of Europe's four oldest schools: Beuxbatons, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and his home village, Yána.
No tournament had been held in over two hundred years, due to the large death-count that the tournament had acquired throughout the years.
Shaking his head, clearing it from thoughts, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, letting the smell of the night fill his head. Gliding into the Illusion of Elsewhere, he was relaxed.
More than two hours later, he entered the tower room that was now his home. He could hear that the other boys in here was already asleep, and he was about to fall asleep himself. Stripping off his robes, he fell back on his bed, instantly asleep.