If anyone has any ideas for any sort of cover art, let me know! Or feel free to design it yourself, and I'll be sure to give you the proper credit and a shoutout!

A year and a half later…

If there was one thing Hermione despised about Hogwarts, it was how cold and drafty the castle was during the colder months. She simply desired to wake up in the morning and not have to immediately wish that she had pants as a part of her school uniform. Wearing a skirt in a drafty castle was not particularly high on her to-do list and there was only so much that a warming charm could do.

Hermione did her usual morning routine before meeting the boys in the common room. Harry's hair was as tousled and messy as ever, while on the other hand, Ron's hair was sticking up at an odd angle on the left side of his head.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione sighed. She waved her wand in his direction and watched his hair smooth itself down into some semblance of order. Ron simply shrugged.

The three friends made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, but were met with a large crowd of people gathered around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron – being the tallest of his friends – stood on the tips of his toes and read it aloud to the other two:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE

ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK TODAY, FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS

WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS

AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE

CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Brilliant!" said Ron. We have Potions last thing today! Snape won't have time to aggravate us all!"

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'll make time for it, mate."

Nobody was very attentive during lessons, as they were much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Even Potions was the tiniest bit more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed earlier, pulled on their cloaks, and hurried back downstairs into the entrance hall.

There, the Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair. Weasley, straighten your tie and cloak, I will not allow this school to become besmirched by your sloppiness," barked Professor McGonagall. "And, Potter, please comb through your hair!"

Parvati Patil frowned and pulled a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait, Ron grumbled as he straightened out his clothes, and Hermione fruitlessly attempted to help Harry comb through his wild hair with her fingers.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front, no pushing…"

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a chilly, clear evening. Dusk was already falling and a pale moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest across the grounds. Hermione, standing between Harry and Neville in the fourth row from the front and with Ron on Harry's other side, could see little Dennis Creevey absolutely quivering with excitement among the other first years.

"It's nearly six," said Harry, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione. "If I were to guess, I'd say they try to arrive in the most extravagant way possible."

"How would they do that?" Harry asked. "Broomsticks?" He looked up into the starry sky.

"I don't believe so…not from that far away…"

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate – maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts ground, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione rather impatiently.

All the students scanned the grounds rather excitedly, but nothing was moving. Everything was still, silent, and quite ordinary. Hermione was starting to feel cold. She wished they would hurry up. Perhaps the foreign students really were preparing a dramatic entrance. After all, wizards and witches can't resist showing off when they get together.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many eager students, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled Parvati Patil, pointing at the sky above the forest.

Something large, much larger than a hundred broomsticks was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, and was growing larger by the second.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked a Ravenclaw first year, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid – it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

"No…" gasped Hermione, nearly breathless from the sheer size of it. "It's a carriage…"

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the torchlights shining from the castle hit it, they saw a gigantic, power blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a very large house, soaring toward them. The carriage was pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students shuffled backward as the carriage hurled even lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed. Then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

A boy in pale blue robes hopped out of the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He then sprang back respectfully. Then Hermione saw a shining, high-heeled black show emerging from the inside of the carriage. This shoe was then followed by the largest woman she had ever seen in her entire life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped at the sheer size of the woman.

This woman, despite Hermione being used to the height of Hagrid, seemed unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap. The students, followed his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe to get a better look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smiles and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a large, glittering hand. Dumbledore, despite being tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

Hermione noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was not surprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here at any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses –"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore. "I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job."

Madame Maxime bowed slightly. "Very well. Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

As the Beauxbatons students huddled inside the building, they Hogwarts students stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

Suddenly, a loud and eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along the riverbed. From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of what was happening in the lake. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center. Great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were washing over the muddy banks, and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a gigantic plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor.

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool. And then Hermione saw rigging.

"It's a mast!" Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron. Fleur would love this ship if she were here, Hermione thought.

Slowly, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had an eerie skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

Durmstrang had arrived.

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione – he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still in school!"

The three friends walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron made sure to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Several of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they think to bring cloaks?"

Ron elbowed Hermione in the ribs. "Hermione, budge up, make a space," Ron hissed. Hermione shot him a glare and defiantly stayed where she was. Viktor Krum and his fellow classmates walked past the Gryffindor table and settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked awfully smug about this. "Thanks, Hermione, now he's sitting with Malfoy!"

"He's just a Quidditch player!" She eyed his thick black eyebrows and prominently curved nose. "Looks like any regular boy to me."

"He's the greatest Seeker alive!" Ron argued.

Hermione would have snipped back if it wasn't for Dumbledore standing up from the Head Table.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests," said Dumbledore. He beamed at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will officially be opened at the end of the feast. Until then, I invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Dumbledore then spread his arms wide, and the plates in front of everyone filled with food, as was usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Hermione had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" demanded Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that had appeared in front of Hermione.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione answered as she helped herself to a portion of it.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"Honestly, Ronald. It's French," said Hermione. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

The Great Hall somehow seemed much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there. Perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so elegantly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red, and the powder blue of the Beauxbatons' uniforms was a stark contrast against the black of the Hogwarts' robes.

"Excuse me," said a voice with an awfully familiar French accent from behind Hermione, "but are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Hermione stiffened at the sound of the voice. The necklace with the delicate flower pendant around her neck grew to be unnaturally warm. That couldn't be Fleur…could it? What were the chances that Fleur was both a witch and here in Hogwarts?

Hermione watched Ron flush a deep purple out of the corner of her eye. Ron's mouth dropped open but only a faint gurgling noise came out. Harry, having noticed that his friends had suddenly become useless, pushed the dish in her direction and said, "Yeah, have it."

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," said Hermione breathlessly, mentally kicking herself back into action. "Yeah, it was excellent." She picked up the dish and turned to hand it to the girl, intent on figuring out if this was Fleur for herself.

The bright blue eyes that were the exact same as the French skies met her own. Hermione was met with a familiar bright smile.

"Bonsoir, 'Ermione," said Fleur, her smile never fading. "Eet ees good to see you again."

"Bonsoir, Fleur," replied Hermione faintly. "Ça va?"

"Ça va. Très bien. You 'ave been practicing your français," Fleur observed, her smile somehow brightening in the dim torchlight of the Great Hall.

Hermione finally shook off the last vestiges of shock. "Yes, I've always liked the French language." Among other French things.

Fleur smiled again, but glanced back at her friends back at the Ravenclaw table. "I must go now with ze bouillabaisse. I am glad to 'ave found you again, mon amie. A bientôt, 'Ermione."

Hermione watched Fleur walk away with the bouillabaisse. Ron and Harry stared open-mouthed at Hermione.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron exclaimed while attempting to discreetly wipe a trail of drool from his chin. "Why didn't you ever tell us you were pals with a beautiful Frenchwoman?"

"She's my friend, Ronald; I wouldn't dare tell you anything about her." Ron scowled at that. "You can't even look at her without drooling."

"Hey! I will have you know…"

Hermione ignored him, as she was more focused on watching Fleur's retreating figure than she was on Ron's petty argument over why he should be introduced to Fleur. She lifted her hand to lightly trace the necklace around her neck. It was cool to the touch again.

Hermione smiled to herself. Fleur was back.