Wednesday, September 7th
Charlotte,
How have your classes been? Hogwarts begins its term on the first of September, yes? I imagine that our curriculum differ greatly, and am curious to how. Durmstang's professors concentrate on the Dark Arts, which is something I've never been fond of, but there has never been another option.
Deek continues to improve, though he is, a you put it, grumpy. He responds well to sausage, but seems to miss you fiercely. Our healer has done what he can, but whatever attacked Deek did a fair amount of damage. He favors one wing, and has yet to fly, but I have hope that he will improve. He and Orion get on splendidly when they are together.
Viktor
Charlotte reread the letter for the second time, tapping the tip of her quill against a blank sheet of parchment. The library around her was quiet; only the occasional sound of a turned page and the scritch-scritch-scritch of a quill on paper interrupted her thoughts.
Viktor,
Hogwarts students return to campus on September 1st, but classes do not begin until the following day. Weekends are usually spent class-free, as well as holidays. As an opposite of Durmstrang, Hogwarts offers no Dark Arts at all, but rather subjects such as Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. We do have a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but it's rumored that the position is cursed as a professor hasn't lasted more than a year in decades. Some don't even last the whole year.
As it's no longer a required class after passing O. , I had elected not to continue taking it, but my Head of House, Professor Flitwick, insisted. I don't know to what end he hopes to achieve, but it's never been a class that's held my interest. This year's teacher is a Ministry auror, Alistair "Mad-Eye" Moody. I had my first class with him on Monday morning, and it was - I don't know if I have a good word for the man. He's terrifyingly paranoid, and makes no effort to conceal his disdain that we students aren't.
Deek can be difficult to deal with when he can't do what he wants to when he wants to. He's been that way since he hatched. He's a very independent bird, and I'm sure being unable to move about freely isn't helping. Thank you for taking such good care of him. He means the world to me.
Yours,
Charlotte
She folded her letter, charmed it, and packed her things. Sitting in the library, failing to study, was doing her no good, so she headed back to her dorm. She dropped her school bag on her bed, and kicked off her loafers, replacing them with a pair of mud boots that had seen better days, but would keep her from ruining her nice shoes in the owlry.
Orion, the poor thing, had been having trouble fitting in with the other birds, seeing as he was a goshawk, not an owl, so when Charlotte arrived in the tower where the birds slept, he leapt from his isolated spot, and descended onto her shoulder. She brushed her fingertips though the feathers on his breast, and in turn he spent a few moments preening through her dark hair.
"Thank you," she said when he was done. "Would you mind taking this to Viktor?"
Orion held out his talon so she could tie the dragon hide case around it.
"Stay safe," she whispered, and the bird took off.
Friday, October 30th
"I'm going to be sick," Charlotte muttered.
"You're going to be fine," Ada said.
"I can't eat anything."
"How do you know? We haven't even sat down to supper yet. They're not even here yet."
The students had been gathered outside the Great Hall to welcome the incoming delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and Charlotte was finding it hard to fight off the chill of late October. Ada, incomplete contrast, didn't even seem to notice it was cold due to her excitement.
"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" called Dumbledore from one of the front rows.
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.
"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.
"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" yelled another boy.
That student's guess was closer...As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville Longbottom 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.
Charlotte and Ada had just time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.
A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then they saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman Charlotte had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.
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, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward towards Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Charlotte, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now 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 unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what she could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.
"As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.
"He should be here 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, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.
"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and Charlotte and Ada were pushed aside as the crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Charlotte heard a Gryffondor boy ask.
"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said another, whom Charlote recognized as Harry Potter. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"
Ada took the pause in commotion to pull Charlotte in and wrap her under her cloak. Charlotte, who was shaking near uncontrollably, thanked her. They stood, shivering still, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.
For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -
"Can you hear something?" said someone suddenly.
Charlotte listened; a loud and oddly 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 a riverbed...
"Viktor said Durmstrang is to arrive by ship," Charlotte said just before another student shouted.
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they all had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant 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 Harry saw the rigging...
"It's a mast!" Harry Potter said in wonderment.
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely 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.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Charlotte noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of giants or American linebackers...but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, she saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Charlotte noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Charlotte caught a glimpse of a curved nose and stubbled, sharp jawline. She nearly squealed when Ada pinched her on the hip, and she turned from the Durmstrang students to shove her friend away from her.
"Charlotte," Ada said, clearly mesmerized by the student that had just passed them by. "That was Viktor Krum!"
As the students filed into the Hall behind their Durmstrang guests, Ada left Charlotte with a quick hug to join the Gryffindor table. Charlotte turned herself to Ravenclaw's table, and was surprised to find that the Beauxbatons students were hovering around the benches as if they were unsure where they were welcome to sit.
"You're more than welcome to join us," Charlotte told them quietly, taking a seat for herself.
Several of them glanced among themselves, but it seemed the decision was made when a young woman with silver blond hair and beautiful blue eyes smiled, and chose the seat in front of Charlotte. The rest of them found space between other students until the table was a combination of navy and periwinkle blue.
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around 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 be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
The plates in front of them filled with food as 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 Charlotte had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign. Taking notice of her still squeamish stomach, Charlotte only sampled bread pudding and water, and hoped her nerves would settle.
"You are not 'ungry?" asked the Beauxbatons student that had sat in front of her.
"Sick to my stomach, I'm afraid," Charlotte said, a small smile at the corner of her lips.
"I am Fleur Delacour," the girl said, offering her hand across the table.
"Charlotte Wright," she said, clasping Fleur's surprisingly steady hand in her own.
"It is very nice to meet you, Charlotte."
"You as well, Fleur. I hope you enjoy your time here."
A student farther down the table, Charlotte could not tell if they belonged to Hogwarts for Beauxbatons, scoffed. Charlotte flushed, but Fleur's eyes cut to the perpetrator and silenced them with a heavy look.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Charlotte felt a slight thrill of excitement laced with dread, wondering what was coming.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; a Gryffindor boy actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.