CHAPTER 40: THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
In the faint light of the candles suspended in the air, the theater hall bore a striking resemblance to one of those intimidating courtrooms of the English Wizengamot. Immersed in the shadows, this impressively sized room was surrounded by a dozen balconies hanging from the walls, while woodwork, moldings, and decorations covered in gold leaf adorned the walls. Artists had meticulously reproduced scenes and events from Greek mythology, with the majority depicting various muses, among which Thalia, Terpsichore, and Melpomene held significant positions. Rows of seats covered in scarlet damask faced a long wooden platform serving as a stage. A set representing the typical interior of a well-to-do house had been arranged on it.
Unlike the rest of the hall, the stage was brightly lit, thanks to a small group of young girls hurrying about. Some were putting the finishing touches to perfect the set, while others were completing makeup and adjusting the attire of the third group, which would perform on the same stage before a giantess-like lady, the play for which they would be judged and graded by the end of the year.
Madame Maxime, seated in the front row after conjuring a seat suitable for her dimensions, played the role of the mastermind for today's theatrical production. Everything had to be perfect in her eyes. Rarely could the headmistress demand perfection or simply be perfectionistic with her little students. In truth, the benevolent and kind nature of the half-giant inclined her towards leniency and compromise with those who might make a slight mistake. However, as the supervisor of all theatrical activities at her school and the person in charge of this subject, she felt it was within her purview to chide and reprimand those who weren't moving fast enough or showing enough willingness to achieve what she deemed a satisfactory result. The way she nervously fanned herself was a good indication of the impatience that overcame her as she observed her students' little play on the stage.
Daphné, on her part, had nothing to fear from her headmistress. Madame Maxime liked her a lot, partly because she had a good relationship with her stepmother and promised Marie-Louise to refine her education. The headmistress restrained herself from raising her voice against Daphné, fearing what the Princess of Lamballe might say. Besides, Daphné had nothing to do on the stage at the moment, and her headmistress would have prevented her from helping the makeup artists or those mechanically moving the set with their little arms, deeming it inconceivable for her to waste time on such activities.
Behind the curtain, Daphné had to admit she was profoundly bored for the moment. Not even Lucie, dressed in a hilarious masculine costume and a fake mustache, could pull her out of the torpor she found herself in. The school year had started almost two months ago, and rehearsals, ongoing for eight weeks, occupied a significant part of their Sunday afternoons, one of the few days when no classes were held. Having had the opportunity to get used to her own role in the play, Daphné regretted not being able to enjoy this day of free time to rest, read, or simply weave while listening with a distracted ear to Tracey's ramblings or her teasing banter with Lucie.
What had possessed her to accompany Tracey to these theater classes? She didn't even need them to improve her overall grades! Furthermore, unlike her best friend, she had no talent for acting, at least no more than the others! No, decidedly, even after two months, she still didn't understand what she was doing, even though she had the most feminine role in the play, dressed in a lovely period gown with multiple petticoats, lace jabots on the collars, a whalebone corset compressing her slender figure to the point of affecting her breathing, and an updo adorned with a small hat and a braid letting her curly blonde hair fall. All her classmates would have dreamed of taking her place, but Madame Maxime had assigned it to her, and no one, not even Daphné, could deviate from her decisions.
"Hurry up, young ladies!" reprimanded Madame Maxime as the makeup touch-ups for the extras continued.
Feverishly, the makeup artists resumed their work, while Daphné saw some other students determining the placement of trinkets they placed on a fake fireplace out of the corner of her eye. Amidst all the hustle and bustle, Tracey seemed to be the only one who didn't appear rushed or feverish. The serious expression she wore, unusual for her, showed how deeply she was investing herself in this play, which she was initially not particularly enthusiastic about.
"Tracey seems so serious," Lucie commented, also watching their friend getting her face powdered without looking embarrassed. "It's almost intimidating..."
"Do you think so too?" Daphné asked, exchanging a smile with Lucie. "Heaven, if her mother saw her, I'm convinced she would ask Madame Maxime to give her theater lessons all the time... I've never seen her so involved in a project."
And involved Tracey was. Even outside of these sessions, her best friend continued to rehearse her role, even during other classes. Madame Beaumont caught her more than once with a copy of Molière's plays hidden in her book of the mores and customs of various European nobilities. Saying that their friend had a hard time was an understatement, but nothing could curb her enthusiasm for memorizing her role and all its subtleties.
Even today, while playing the role of a man, Tracey didn't waste a second to reread her notes one last time, disregarding the brush tickling her nose or the last recommendations from the directors. In her vibrant and puffed Rhingrave, complemented by white tights and red-heeled shoes, in her black-toned jacket adorned with numerous small red bows on the sleeves and a white shirt consisting of an imposing mass of frills and lace, and especially under that thick curly black wig topped with an oval hat decorated with an elegant white feather, Tracey seemed completely immersed in her role. If it weren't for the ridiculous mustache painted above her mouth to remind everyone that her character was primarily burlesque, Daphné would almost find her attractive in this long-outdated costume.
The play they were all participating in, titled "The School for Wives," prominently featured Mr. de la Source, a small noble eager to marry a woman who wouldn't overshadow him with her intellect and oratory talents. He had set his sights on a young girl named Agnès, whom he had adopted when she was still a child, isolating her from all scholarly society to turn her into a fool. This way, he ensured that she would never attract any ambitious man with her intelligence, unaware that she had started a relationship with another man during his absence.
Daphné played the role of the fickle fiancée who had been bathed in complete ignorance all her life. While this role bothered her, she made the best of it and complied with the requirements that accompanied this character in the play. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but imagine the same situation in the relationship she was building with Harry and the temptation that could always arise to seek comfort elsewhere if he was absent from home for too long. Would she ever be tempted by a fleeting affair because she felt neglected by Harry? The idea seemed so absurd to her, especially since she knew that nothing was more essential to him than family ties, sincerity, and fidelity in any relationship, and total honesty in all the connections he formed with people, regardless of their condition or rank. Yet, she still wondered what could happen to her relationship if one of them sought solace with someone else. For her part, she would rather play the role of this character and wear the costume than practice infidelity towards her fiancé because the repercussions in her eyes were painful and distressing enough for her not to entertain the thought; just think of her future stepmother and the unhappy married life she had with her unfaithful husband to realize that.
Moreover, Daphné knew she was a less skilled actress than her best friend, and she would still rather play one of the few female roles in the play and maintain some dignity than take the lead in a play where male roles were predominant. Tracey handled her acting much better, and even the male roles didn't intimidate her. It was as if her best friend had been waiting all her life for this moment to showcase her acting talent—a talent whose outlines had always been visible but needed refinement, sculpting, and grinding for everyone to marvel at.
"Everyone without a role in the upcoming act, leave the stage to give the actresses space!" ordered Madame Maxime as the majority of the young girls immediately exited the stage. With a nervous smile, Lucie also left Daphné, who, although not involved in this part of the play, chose to stay behind the curtain to better admire her friends' performance. Soon, no sound could be heard in the theater, and it was only when the director banged a wooden crate in front of her with a stick that the three actresses present began to replay the act.
Tracey was behind a wooden door slightly away from the stage, which she could have easily bypassed if one were to imagine that it had walls on each side. Lucie, seated in a chair near the fake fireplace, slowly unwound the thread from a spool that Marie de Frénouville, dressed as a common servant, used to sew what appeared to be a scarf. The feigned startle they both had when Tracey knocked on the door amused Daphné, but like her comrades, she refrained from laughing and listened attentively to the continuation of the play.
"Who knocks?" exclaimed Lucie, getting up from her seat, looking alarmed.
"Open, order, and you shall, I think, have great joy in seeing me after ten days of absence!" commanded Tracey in a pompous tone.
"Who goes there?" Lucie insisted, walking slowly towards the door.
"It's me."
"Georgette!" her friend stammered, now looking at the other servant with horror.
"Well?" replied Tracey, abandoning her sewing work as she stood up from her chair.
"Go on, you!" Lucie ordered her, stepping back to stand near her and pushing her towards the door.
"Well, I won't!"
"What a ceremony to leave me outside!" implored Tracey, raising her tone slightly. "Hey there, I beg you!"
"Wh-who knocks?" Marie asked once again.
"Your master."
Terrified, Marie returned to Lucie, using her stage name Alain, and just like Lucie a moment ago, was now trying to push her to open the door by pulling on her arm.
"Open up!" Lucie impatiently tried to free herself from her grip.
"I breathe fire!" Marie explained, demonstrating with a bellows that she squeezed in front of the set.
"I prevent, fearing the cat, that my sparrow flies out!" Lucie asserted.
"Anyone of you two who doesn't open the door will have nothing to eat for more than four days!" threatened Tracey again, knocking on the door.
Silence immediately fell on the stage, and for a few seconds, Lucie and Marie stared at each other, frightened by the impending punishment. Like before, neither seemed willing to open the door to their master, but now both rushed towards it, struggling with each other to be the first to open it.
"Why come when I run there!" Marie exclaimed, trying to push Lucie.
"Why me rather than you? The pleasing stratagem!"
Lucie's grammatical mistake did not escape anyone, but being precisely one of the popular quirks that Molière liked to slip into his plays, Madame Maxime did not interrupt the act to correct it. On the contrary, she was now enjoying, just like her students, the desperate attempts of the two actresses to be the first to open the door for Tracey, and she almost giggled as loudly as they did when Lucie or Marie exaggerated their falls with ridiculous acrobatics.
"I must have a very patient soul here!" Tracey exclaimed, almost shouting.
"At least it's me, sir!" Lucie cried, trying to insert the key into the lock, which Marie was trying to take from her hands.
"I am your servant, it's me!" Marie replied, managing to snatch it away and turn it.
Without waiting, Marie opened the door, and Tracey was already stepping into the doorway when Lucie fumed with anger, her gaze furious towards the servant.
"Without the respect of the gentleman here, I'll...!"
The blow she tried to administer to Marie was easily avoided by her, but Tracey received the slap full in the face, her wig dangerously tilting to the right side of her face as if about to fall off.
"Damn it!" she grumbled, glaring at the poor Lucie, who suddenly became very embarrassed.
"Sorry," she stammered, stepping back slightly, looking down.
"See this clumsy one here!" Tracey continued to rant, advancing towards her, fist raised.
"It's her too, sir..." Lucie apologized, now pointing at Marie.
"Both of you, be silent," invited Tracey, taking deep breaths in the middle of the stage. "Think about how to answer me, and let's leave the nonsense. Well, Alain, how are things here?"
Lucie seemed again uneasy, almost intimidated by Tracey's demanding tone, but Daphné knew perfectly well that it was just a façade. Like her best friend, their little French friend also possessed a certain talent for acting. However, the timid nature of their friend shone so powerfully at this moment that for a second, Daphné believed Lucie was genuinely frightened by Tracey's authoritative voice.
"Sir," she mumbled, nervously twisting the tails of her shirt. "We... Sir, we are... Thank God, we are..."
"Who teaches you, impertinent beast, to speak in front of me with your hat on your head?" Tracey thundered, now repeatedly removing the hat that Lucie insisted on keeping on her head.
"You're right, I'm wrong..."
"Stop!" interrupted Madame Maxime, rising from her seat. "Miss Desmoulins, your performance is admirable, but you need to be more prompt in your movements! This scene is meant to be comical, yet you are so nervous, my poor girl, that your hat doesn't wait for your colleague to take hold of it before slipping off your head!"
"Forgive me, Madame Director," Lucie apologized, lowering her head politely as she now looked at her feet instead of her superior.
"As for you, Miss Davis... This role suits you admirably!" Madame Maxime complimented her in an eloquent tone. "It pleases me to think that in this fourth year of study, you seem to have finally found something to delve into within our school."
"The thing wouldn't have been so if madam hadn't encouraged me to enroll in these acting lessons... The merit is yours, Madame Director," thanked Tracey, removing her hat to bow respectfully in the same way as the men, her fake curly wig threatening to fall off again.
Her gesture made Madame Maxime giggle with pleasure, but the director quickly composed herself and hid her amusement under a mask of impassivity that could have made Daphné jealous.
"We will continue this play next week," she told them, signaling one of the school's maids to take her cloak and personal belongings. "Don't be late, young ladies. I remind you that your final grade will take into account not only your acting skills but also your diligence in this class, your behavior during it, and even your punctuality. Now go, we will be at Hogwarts within the hour, and it would be most inappropriate to see some of our students dressed as men in the presence of our hosts."
Dressing again, Madame Maxime left the theater followed by her maid, while her students saluted her with another curtsy. Once the door closed behind them, they all returned backstage, abandoning any notion of good manners. Amid protests, admonitions, undressing in front of their classmates, and hair-pulling fights among those vying for the first place in front of the mirror to redo their makeup, the place quickly became chaotic, making it difficult to be heard and, above all, understood.
Daphné took the time to undress behind a screen, assisted without even asking by Lucie and Marie, who had claimed the roles of ladies-in-waiting to her for a reason that escaped her. Since her first year, Daphné had expanded her circle of friends, either out of interest and to please the heiresses of powerful families, or out of genuine fondness for the girls themselves, and both of them fell into the latter category. Without assigning them any other role than that of a friend and confidante, Daphné nevertheless noticed that over time, a private circle had formed around her. Whether at the table or even in the corridors of Beauxbatons, her classmates orbited around her like a swarm of bees around their hive. While the position of the best friend was, of course, reserved for Tracey, her other friends chose other roles that allowed them to keep her company by combining the useful with the pleasant: they helped her dress, style her hair, hold cumbersome objects that she alone couldn't lift, kept her company when Tracey was absent, accompanied her on all her movements, sometimes staying in the background... For a moment, anyone could have thought that Daphné had restored the traditions of the old French Court, and, indeed, the actions of her friends closely resembled those of the courtiers of the last century.
"You played admirably, Daphné," Marie said to her as she loosened the corset of her dress.
"I was only seen once in this play today," Daphné reminded her as she rolled her eyes, suppressing the urge to sigh at her friend's behavior. "My role wasn't significant for this session..."
"Yes, but we only saw you at that moment!" retorted the heiress of Courneuve.
Daphné preferred to give up the argument as she passed over her head the dress, which she delicately placed on a nearby chair. It was when she began to take the underwear that Marie and Lucie were offering her that Tracey made her triumphant reappearance, a triumphant smile on her face.
"So?" Tracey asked her once she joined her. "How was I?"
"Brilliant," she replied sincerely. "Consider asking your mother if the possibility of a career in this field is open to you. I'm sure you could thrive in it."
"I don't know," murmured her friend thoughtfully as she removed her costume. "Mom is only waiting for my majority to give me the title and responsibilities of the Davis household, and I don't think I can pursue a political career and an artistic career at the same time. As for my father, I don't think such a career would please him. Actresses, after all, have a bad reputation when it comes to their morals. I don't want people to say that I am a girl of loose virtue and thus tarnish the name of the Davis household."
"What your father thinks of your choices should be the least of your worries," Daphné reminded her, helping her friend remove the voluminous rhingrave around her waist. "He's in Azkaban for the rest of his life, and I don't think being an actress could harm your family's reputation more than the multiple murders he committed. As for your career, it's entirely possible for you to delegate your duties to your mother for a few more years and take them back only when you've grown tired of theatrical scenes and adoring crowds coming to admire the great and talented Tracey Davis!"
"The great and talented Tracey Davis," her friend repeated dreamily, looking absentmindedly at her silhouette in a mirror a few steps away. "That sounds so good!"
Lost in her dreams of glory and fame, Tracey did not forget to finish removing her costume while Daphné, having more or less finished getting ready, now helped her with the support of Lucie to speed up her preparation. The confusion in the dressing rooms had never been as visible as today, but the anxiety of discovering a new school and especially new students not particularly prepared to welcome them warmly must be the reason. All the girls were busy finishing their dressing as quickly as possible, pushing each other with a shoulder, trying to tower over others by their height to admire themselves in the mirrors, occasionally quarreling over a missing or damaged hat. But Tracey did not have to wait long to feel ready to leave the theater and return to her room. She never cared as much as the others about her outfit, even less about her hairstyle, so she watched her classmates run in all directions in search of some missing element of their attire with an amused look. Satisfied, she calmly left the seat on which she had sat to put on her high-heeled boots, ignoring the eagerness with which several girls immediately pounced on it to access the adjacent mirror, and followed Daphné and Lucie towards the exit where Aglaé and Marie were already waiting. Now all that remained was to await their imminent arrival at Hogwarts, and their flying carriages, in which the entire school seemed to have been accommodated, were only a few leagues from their destination.
Indeed, Daphné and the others were in a carriage, and if those bringing the students to Beauxbatons already allowed for several cabins to separate them, this one was simply gigantic: dozens of classrooms, rooms for students, corridors, the theater, a dining hall, private apartments for teachers, offices, and even a reception hall! Of course, from the outside, the carriage was still much larger than one would expect from this means of transportation, but magic had the ability to always push its own limits, and even after two days of continuous flight, the students were still amazed at the vastness of the place. What was the point of building such a beautiful school if everything needed could be contained in such a small carriage? Even Daphné didn't know what to answer to that.
As for the reason why she found herself in this pleasant carriage, the answer lay in Scotland, more precisely at Hogwarts, where the Triwizard Tournament was going to take place for the first time in over a century. For this occasion, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had been invited to participate, at the expense of other schools that had already had the opportunity to compete with the famous English wizarding school. Moreover, it was the first time that an all-girls institution could compete in this competition, and Madame Maxime ardently aspired to win the trophy. However, the tournament had new rules aiming to minimize the possibilities and threats that could endanger the lives of the competitors. Besides reducing the danger of the tasks, there was now an age limit for those who hoped to participate, starting at seventeen. Daphné couldn't register for it, but in truth, she had never even considered entering the tournament. However, due to the Christmas ball that would take place in December, students from the fourth year like her up to the last year could be part of the journey and cheer for their designated competitor. So now, only the lower-year students remained at Beauxbatons, and if some cried injustice and favoritism, a simple lecture from Madame Maxime deterred them from going any further.
"How do you think your sister is doing at Beauxbatons?" Tracey asked her.
"Without Madame Beaumont by her side, I'm sure she and Rosie will adapt better than us to this school," she replied, imagining what Astoria might be doing.
Her sister had indeed just joined the school, escaping the convent in which she had been languishing until then, and whose devout atmosphere had tested her patience. Astoria had been very excited about coming to her academy, especially since she had been redoing her entire uniforms since July because she enjoyed wearing them so much. The acclimatization had been rapid, but her first escapades with Madame Beaumont had been just as quick; It took only two days for her and Rosie to get on the wrong side of the deputy headmistress due to a delay in the dining hall, and despite Rosie's explanation that she wasn't used to waking up on her own, having gotten used to being awakened by servants, her excuse did not hold, and both of them received their first punishment. Needless to say, their mothers were particularly displeased with this introduction, and a scolding reached them the next day at breakfast and in front of all the other students.
However, Rosie had not finished with her mischief, and despite the recommendations of her two mothers, Beauxbatons quickly became the new playground for her pranks and other games in which she naturally involved her best friend. Most of the time, she managed to escape the school's vigilance by slipping away as soon as she felt the threat looming, and even though all the school's teachers strongly suspected her of being responsible for the misdeeds, nothing could support their theory, and Rosie thus avoided new sanctions. But when she got caught... nothing changed, even going to receive a lecture from the headmistress in her office, and her nightly escapades, mischievous tricks, and antics resumed the next day. However, one essential point had to be recognized in the pranks she played on her classmates, and in a way, it was praiseworthy: she only set out to torment the lives of the most arrogant, authoritative, or vindictive students towards others, those who bullied or mocked the weaker ones... And on this point, Cordélia Duprès became Rosie's designated victim, even though she was three years her senior.
"I wonder what they're doing," Tracey said again. "Have they meanwhile formed a committee to fight against injustices done to first-years? I never would have imagined them leading this wave of protest against the school's administration because they found it unfair not to be able to come to Hogwarts as well!"
Seeing and replaying in her mind Astoria and Rosie standing on their table in the dining hall and calling on their comrades to strike would remain etched in her memory for a long time, and this memory drew a broad smile from Daphné. Moreover, they had managed to rally a considerable number of girls to their cause, who also felt that they had the right to participate in this trip. However, their little rebellion quickly came to an end when Madame Maxime herself had to stand up to restore order and punish the little troublemakers. It was also the first time that Daphné saw someone outside her family, her stepfamily, or Sister Catherine manage to calm Rosie's temperament and ardor, and for that, she had even more respect for her headmistress. If anyone could transform her future sister-in-law and soften her character, surely it had to be her.
Just as they reached the exit, Marie immediately pounced on Daphné to readjust her uniform once again, pretending to find a false fold or an ill-fitted hat. Daphné let her do it without interrupting her, accustomed for a long time now to her little attentions and preferring, in contrast, to bet with Tracey on how long the two little rascals would take to turn the school upside down in their absence.
Finding their way back to their room wasn't too difficult, as it was located in a corridor adjacent to the theater. However, they also had to navigate through a particularly lively corridor where students from other years were running frantically from one room to another in search of some elusive element of their outfit. Madame Maxime had been particularly demanding about their appearance, considering it a sign of seriousness and excellence to give Beauxbatons the image of a school with standards superior to those of Hogwarts. Even if their headmistress hadn't put it that way, each student knew perfectly well that it was about outshining Hogwarts in terms of aesthetics and decorum—a field in which the English school had not shone for a very long time.
"Look at these hysterics!" grumbled Tracey as she tried to make her way through the chaos that the corridor had become.
"However, they are not wrong," argued Aglaé as she tucked a strand of her Venetian-blond hair behind her ear. "I would prefer to return to Beauxbatons immediately rather than show up dressed like a slattern in front of the English."
"We are English, I remind you," she replied a bit sternly, nodding her head towards Daphné.
"I was not insulting your nation," she apologized politely. "I was just saying that in front of our foreign hosts, we must show everyone that it is in France, as always, that fashion trends are set and undone, and therefore, we are the guarantors of the luxury and beauty of French aesthetics beyond our borders. Haven't we always been the standard-bearers of fashion developments throughout Europe for centuries? It would be inappropriate for us not to honor our country for that."
Fashion... that was the least of Daphné's concerns at the moment, but she refrained from expressing her opinion on the subject to avoid prolonging the conversation. Anyway, who at Hogwarts cared about the latest fashion trends? The students' uniforms had barely changed in nearly a century, and the arrival of a hundred young ladies in their finest uniforms certainly wouldn't change anything.
The end of their journey and the door leading to their room spared her from any further discussion with her friends, especially when Tracey and Marie almost fought to open it for her and allow her access.
Their room resembled the one Daphné had at Lamballe, except that four beds had been added here and there, and the dimensions had increased. The furniture had also been quadrupled, at least what was necessary, and several doors led to the individual cabinets of each of the girls sleeping here to give them a bit of privacy. Besides that, the room was very bright, and the large bay windows rising several meters high and extending over a large part of the available wall space revealed beyond the uncertain blue sky dotted with numerous clouds, which the carriage was traversing.
Martine and Françoise, standing near her bed, were also on the journey, officially as Daphné's companions, but their real usefulness for now was more to take care of their new mistress's room and her toilette. The wealthiest Beauxbatons ladies could indeed be accompanied by their household staff from their fourth school year onwards, and Marie-Louise had seized the opportunity to put her two best servants at her service. Daphné appreciated the gesture, especially since she liked the two women very much, but she also suspected that another reason for their presence could explain it, and she wouldn't be surprised if she learned that they also served as spies for their main mistress; the wedding was inevitably approaching, and her stepmother was not above any maneuver to spy on the slightest gestures of her future daughter-in-law and try to correct her through the letters she would undoubtedly send her. Daphné was not offended by it, quite the contrary, but being constantly observed was not something she could rejoice about either.
Furthermore, there was nothing to complain about their room, beautiful without being too much, actually quite ordinary when you realized that it looked like all the others present in the carriage. Daphné had been offered a separate room just for her, sparing her from having to share her privacy with other young ladies, but Harry's fiancée had declined the offer, arguing that she had been accustomed to Tracey and Lucie's company for three years now and that one or two additional heads did not bother her at all. Thus, for the coming year, she was living at Hogwarts with four of her friends. Cordélia had tried to invite herself into their room, but since Daphné had been elected responsible for their dormitory, her new role allowed her to establish the list of people allowed to sleep with her or invite themselves into her quarters for a chat over a cup of hot chocolate, and unfortunately for Daphné's rival, she couldn't enter her good graces.
"I wonder when we'll arrive," Tracey sighed, flopping onto her bed and letting out a long sigh of contentment. "I would go to sleep now if I didn't know we're approaching Hogwarts."
"In an hour, at most," her best friend replied, taking her place at her dressing table while Martine and Françoise worked on perfecting their little mistress's already perfect hairstyle without the slightest order.
"If you had listened to Madame Maxime instead of admiring yourself in your costume, you would have known," added Lucie in a mocking tone.
Tracey shot her a glare, but she refrained from responding. She never raised her voice against Lucie, and if she did, she couldn't help feeling guilty in the face of her friend's submissive attitude, which never responded to reprimands and accepted them without protest or contradiction for fear of the repercussions it could have. Living alongside Daphné and Tracey had not freed her from her fears, especially of speaking in public and daring to oppose someone, but theater, and Daphné hoped for her, might be able to remedy that in the future, as the recent sessions tended to prove. Preferring to change her thoughts, Tracey then played with her doll, tossing it gently above her and trying to catch it in mid-air, all under the watchful eyes of Aglaé and Marie, who, unaware of the love she had for this object, saw her as a subject of mockery that never went beyond whispers. Daphné herself found this attachment somewhat childish for someone approaching adulthood, but she refrained from giving moral lessons on the subject to her best friend: Tracey could be particularly cunning when it came to her doll, and Daphné would rather alienate all the students of Beauxbatons than her childhood friend.
Her mind wandered for a moment to the memories of her last evening in England, and it could be said that she was not really delighted to return. The Quidditch World Cup had not been the most pleasant experience for her, although the event itself was particularly exciting and enriching, giving her the opportunity to discover new cultures through the foreign spectators who also came to attend the final. Accompanied by her entire family as well as Harry's, Daphné had truly enjoyed that day when, for once, all the people she loved were in her company and not scattered across France and the United Kingdom, although the absence of her fiancé was still burdensome for her. Even Fleur, who had been invited along with her parents and her sister to attend the competition, had been bearable for her to the point that on that day, she wondered if the two of them could not have a cordial discussion when they were in a context other than that of Beauxbatons.
Unfortunately, the attack of the Death Eaters that same evening had spoiled the party, and while no one was injured, Marie-Louise had had some problems with the English justice for her involvement in the death of two Death Eaters, the announcement of whose deaths had nevertheless sparked immense joy, especially when it was learned that one of them was Fenrir Greyback. It took little for her stepmother to be accused of murder by some officials at the Ministry of Magic, a paradox when they themselves had been unable to quickly muster a sufficient contingent of Aurors to curb the threat posed by the Death Eaters that night. Faced with the outcry raised by this affair and the threats that had weighed on Marie-Louise's head, the Ministry of Magic quickly backtracked to silence the controversy, but while all charges were quickly dropped, and she was thanked for her contribution to the effort in the fight against the Death Eaters, Daphné kept a bitter memory of her last escapade in her home country. If security at the Quidditch World Cup had proven to be a fiasco, who could say that it would not be the same during the tournament? All that was left was for something to happen to her for Harry to take the risk of setting foot here to inquire about her health—a significant risk given the disagreements he had with Dumbledore and James Potter, and above all, an unspeakable stupidity: her union with Harry Potter had so far never harmed her, but she doubted that Lord Potter would be foolish enough not to remember that she was once linked to his son and that now a perfect stranger had taken his place in her life. It was only a small step for him to make the connection, a step that she preferred to avoid.
A glance in the mirror reassured her that her friends did not have the same concerns as her about this tournament. Better yet, Tracey seemed completely detached from the imminence of their arrival at Hogwarts as she continued to play absentmindedly with her doll. Lucie had immersed herself in yet another religious reading, the only way she could reassure herself, while Marie and Aglaé were doing their best to keep themselves entertained by mimicking precise gestures with their wands, causing a rain of sparks around them that they enjoyed changing the color of. Yes, her friends did not have the same concerns as her, but it would probably be different in a few times.
"The presence of all students and faculty is required in the carriage's atrium," a male voice suddenly echoed throughout the room, and everyone attributed it to the only man in charge within the academy, the coachman. "We are expected to arrive at Hogwarts in five minutes."
"Five minutes!?" Aglaé exclaimed, looking alarmed. "They could have warned us earlier!"
Adding action to her words, she began to tidy up everything in the drawers, almost poking Marie in the process with her wand as she spun quickly. Too preoccupied to realize that there was no risk of their room being inspected in such a short time and that it couldn't be tidier than it was at that moment, her frenzy to find any stray objects amused her other friends. Tracey even went so far as to deliberately levitate everything within her reach to scatter them all over the room. Martine and Françoise also offered their services to help the young countess, abandoning their work with Daphné at the same time. However, a second reminder message from the coachman made them realize that it was better not to linger in their rooms. With some reluctance, all five of them got up from their seats, and after a final look at each other to find something that might displease their deputy headmistress, they headed toward the exit, with Daphné, as always, leading the way.
"Should we wait for your return, or may we go, Mademoiselle?" Françoise asked with a concerned tone.
"Oh, um... I give you the evening off, my dear Françoise," Daphné replied with a smile. "You and Martine have been so good since our departure that I think I can do without your services for the next few hours. I hope you won't be in bed by the time we return: I can't wait to describe Hogwarts to you!"
Her servants smiled at the cheerful and unfamiliar demeanor of their young mistress, but Daphné had already left the room before they had time to notice. Frantically, all five of them headed in the indicated direction, realizing along the way that the corridors were, unlike before, relatively calm. Obviously, many had not waited for the coachman to inform them of their imminent arrival to ingratiate themselves with the headmistress and present themselves in advance in the atrium. But the gesture was still commendable, and Daphné could hear Aglaé berating herself for not thinking of it. Soon, all five of them arrived in the designated room, a hall that closely resembled the true entrance hall of Beauxbâtons except for its smaller dimensions and the fact that a double staircase allowed access to the two upper floors. Almost all the students were already there, and in an almost perfect order, each had chosen to line up according to their school year at Beauxbâtons. Daphné followed suit by approaching Madame Maxime, who had positioned herself just in front of the entrance as she silently watched her little students gather around her. Soon, everyone seemed to be there, including the teachers who had agreed to participate in this journey, and who stood in front of their students, even as the carriage obviously began to slow down. No one noted aloud this sudden change, and the few girls who still dared to whisper very quietly to their friends were quickly silenced by a icy gaze from Madame Beaumont.
The carriage then began its descent toward solid ground, but no one was disturbed by it. Gravity seemed to have no hold on them because, while landscapes and clouds flew past the windows at a staggering speed, everyone still kept their feet on the floor of the room. In a heavy silence, only occasionally broken by the neighing of the gigantic Abraxans, all the students kept their eyes fixed on Madame Maxime, their expressions devoid of any emotion, not daring to blink or breathe loudly. Even when a slight jolt, making the carriage tremble, warned them that they had just touched ground, none of them expressed any feelings aloud or through any means. One thing was certain now: They had just arrived.
"Remember, young ladies: We are guests here, and as such, I demand impeccable behavior from each of you to avoid giving our hosts the opportunity to vilify our school or our students," Madame Maxime reminded them in a firm tone. "Any breach or relaxation of discipline on the part of any of you will have the same repercussions as if we were still at the academy. As guests, each of you must honor the hospitality of Hogwarts, so if recommendations are made regarding certain aspects of this establishment, they must be followed within our carriage and nowhere else, and especially not with me. I will tolerate no indiscretion on your part that could tarnish the noble reputation of our academy, and believe me, I will take the appropriate measures to ensure that it does not happen again."
An immediate chill was cast upon all the young girls from Beauxbâtons, and if some still thought they could relax their behavior within the walls of Hogwarts, believing that the discipline would not be the same as in France, their hopes were quickly swept away by Madame Maxime. In any case, from the moment their headmistress took such a serious tone to address them, they knew it was better not to contradict or disobey her; at least now they could pride themselves on being warned.
A moment later, the carriage's front door opened, allowing a halo of light to stream in and slightly blind them. A young man wearing a black jacket and pants matching the white tights and polished shoes he had on his feet appeared in the doorway. After bending down to search the door frame, he unfolded a two-step wooden staircase before offering his hand to Madame Maxime, who accepted it with a graceful gesture.
"Come, young ladies, it's time to meet your new classmates," she said in a tone that gave her words the impression of an order. "Let's not keep them waiting."
Madame Maxime had barely stepped out when Madame Beaumont urged her to move faster, casting a final glance towards the overly eager students who were on the verge of pushing others while trying to be the first ones out. Daphné, on the contrary, tried to take her time, but the teeming mass of girls rushing towards the exit soon overcame her, and she was carried away by this tide of bluish dresses, white feathers, and shiny heeled boots.
The carriage, meanwhile, had stopped on a vast grassy expanse bordered by a lake, beyond which a dense forest could be seen, and by the immense castle that was Hogwarts. Comprising multiple towers and pointed turrets, walls with crenellations, and vast buildings rising on several floors, the structure itself had a very medieval appearance. Daphné was surprised not to see a moat at the base of the castle. Hogwarts could have been appealing to her, but unlike Beauxbâtons, the materials composing the school were raw, aged, and weathered, and especially of another era. The gray stone used extensively in its construction gave the place a gloomy and uninviting aspect, far from the welcoming setting of Beauxbâtons that she already missed.
A crowd awaited them at the foot of the school near the entrance doors, and from what she could see from a distance, the students had been placed on stands according to their age and, above all, according to their houses at Hogwarts. For their part, the Beauxbâtons students continued to huddle near the carriage, waiting for their headmistress to make a decision about what to do next. But she waited first for her students to finish arranging themselves according to their social rank and their family's wealth, highlighting the wealthiest students at the front of the line and those with modest origins at the end. Regrettably, Daphné had to part ways with Tracey and Lucie, both unable to keep up with her and Harry's personal fortune. However, she could still console herself by seeing Aglaé place herself right behind her and keep her company. Fleur was also present, but if Daphné thought that a truce was possible between them given the events, she was sorely mistaken, as the veela insisted on ignoring her, preferring to focus on what was happening in front of her and especially on the few desirous glances she could already notice through the rows of students, making her shudder with disgust. Being a veela didn't only have advantages, and Daphné was quite happy not to be one.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her headmistress's voice, which had taken on a firm tone far from the usual gentleness:
"Follow me now," she ordered, fixing them with an intense gaze. "Keep in mind my recommendations and be the living image of the excellence of our school for your foreign comrades."
Then, with an uncommon grace for a person of her size, their headmistress turned away from them and elegantly kicked the hem of her dress with a foot gesture to head towards Dumbledore. But her strides were so long that Daphné and the others had to almost run to keep the same pace as her. Strangely, both students and teachers of Hogwarts welcomed them with applause, but the amazement that most displayed upon seeing their headmistress led to numerous whispers on their way, a detail that did not escape Madame Beaumont, who was now offended by the evident lack of discipline among them.
Her students, on the other hand, stubbornly kept their faces straight ahead, fearing that even a simple glance towards their English counterparts could displease their headmistress. In perfect order and coordination, giving the impression that they were parading like a military regiment, they followed as best they could the giant shadow of Madame Maxime, ignoring the curious looks that bordered on irreverence at times.
It was only when the castle's shadow took precedence over that of their headmistress, and she stopped in front of Hogwarts' director, that Daphné and the others also stopped their march. Some were trying, more or less successfully, to conceal the long breaths they were taking due to exhaustion.
"Madame Maxime, welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore greeted her, seizing her giant hand adorned with sparkling jewelry.
"My dear Dumbledore, I am delighted to see that you seem to be in perfect health," she replied politely, even managing what seemed to be a friendly smile.
However, Daphné was not fooled, and knowing full well that her headmistress was aware of the story surrounding her stepmother's family and the schemes of the old wizard to try to control her, she suspected that all of this was just a facade perfectly hiding her true feelings. Madame Maxime might be a half-human, but Daphné had long learned to look past her condition to see in her a brilliant witch mastering all the subtleties of emotions and body language.
"Not surprising that she took such a keen interest in overseeing the drama classes," she thought amusingly.
A small conversation then ensued between the two school leaders about Beauxbâtons' Abraxans and their treatment, but Daphné wasn't listening anymore. Instead, she was absorbed in contemplating what would be her school for almost a year. Some of her classmates didn't seem thrilled to be there, judging by their behavior or the scarves they tightened around their necks, silently cursing the cold Scottish evenings. Others even looked at the various Hogwarts students with repulsion, as if a pit full of Blast-Ended Skrewts lay in front of them. And the Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be a moment of unity and camaraderie beyond nationalities? Given the political context of their two countries, Daphné strongly doubted that it could achieve such a result.
"Come, young ladies," Madame Maxime called out after some time, as some of the Hogwarts students stepped aside to let them enter.
Preferring to escape this silent exchange of glances and grimaces between Hogwarts and Beauxbâtons students, Madame Maxime's students immediately followed her without hesitation. Climbing the steps of the entrance led them into a large hall with several doors, including a gigantic one that seemed to give access to the school's dining hall. There was also a broad staircase facing them, leading to the multiple floors they could see by tilting their heads slightly. Oddly, there was only one decorative element visible in this large room—a Griffin statue placed on the right side of the entrance, seemingly serving no other purpose than to embellish the room. Nevertheless, with its gloomy appearance of an old poorly lit castle and the worn marble their footsteps echoed on, the effect was completely missed. Tracey, who shared Daphné's opinion on this matter, mockingly suggested hurrying to summon the Beauxbâtons architect to restore Hogwarts' charm.
The Hogwarts Great Hall, on the contrary, was quite lovely and as she had imagined. However, the four tables had apparently been enlarged to accommodate more people. Like the others, Daphné observed the place absentmindedly, lingering on the few overly curious ghosts who had accompanied them so far to scrutinize them better. Their scrutinizing gazes irritated her immensely. Thousands of candles floated carelessly in the air, and the ceiling, or what should have been one, reflected the gray and cloudy weather outside to the point that it was easily imaginable to dine outdoors.
"We should take our seats before the other students come back," advised Marie, circling one of the tables to stand straight behind one of the chairs.
"Straw chairs..." commented Cordélia disdainfully, examining the infamous chairs with a disgusted look. "I already miss Beauxbâtons."
"We have to make do with what our hosts offer us," Daphné informed her curtly. "The luxury that Beauxbâtons has accustomed us to must not make us forget that it is deceptive, and we will not always be as well off as there."
Cordélia refrained from replying because at that moment, the Durmstrang delegation was arriving. Unlike Beauxbâtons, this school from the north of Russia consisted only of boys from the entire Russian Empire and various states in Europe where some families aspired to teach their children dark magic. All the students were dressed in thick fur cloaks and caps, but underneath, a school uniform resembling the attire of a soldier company was also visible. Daphné was surprised to see that it was just as red as the one her fiancé usually wore, but the resemblance stopped there. Durmstrang had never intended to train wizards to join the regiments of the Russian tsars and tsarinas, especially since this school had always had a reputation for abhorring the Muggle society. The uniform mainly emphasized that discipline and order were mandatory within its walls.
Indeed, Durmstrang taught its students all the ins and outs of dark magic, including its practical application in its darkest forms. Even though Beauxbâtons also taught some forms of magic that could be considered dark, such as the use of curses and hexes deemed dark by some, nothing was pushed as far as it was at their Russian counterparts. Madame Maxime advised against practicing them more diligently as soon as they came into conflict with the Catholic religion. Even though it was the same for the Orthodox Church, to which many Durmstrang students belonged, their faith could not suppress their desire to push their thirst for the discovery of all branches of dark magic further every day. No one truly knew what was taught there, secrecy being a must, but rumors had it that necromancy, for example, was one of the many options available for those aspiring to more advanced studies. Similarly, and although linked to Satanism at Beauxbâtons, rituals requiring human sacrifices were also part of the legends associated with Durmstrang's teachings.
Yet, its students didn't seem to be very malicious, and the profiles diverged greatly from what Harry's fiancée could see as she observed, like her classmates, the newcomers taking their places at the end of the table farthest from the dining hall's windows. One of them particularly caught her attention when she looked at him more closely. It was by spotting his bushy eyebrows forming almost one, his rounded and seemingly broken nose, and the sulking face he constantly displayed that she managed to recognize Viktor Krum, the famous Seeker of the Albanian national Quidditch team, whom she had glimpsed when she was in the ministerial box during the last Quidditch World Cup.
"Daphné?" called Lucie.
Turning towards her friend, Daphné noticed that everyone had now settled into the seats arranged for them, and she was the last one still standing in the middle of the aisle. The sound of dozens of footsteps in the entrance hall also informed her that Hogwarts students were returning, and without a second thought, she rushed with restraint to the seat her comrades had reserved for her. As usual, Tracey and Lucie had been designated to sit next to her, but Aglaé and Marie closed the circle around her by sitting across from her, just as they usually did at Beauxbâtons. All of them, however, remained standing, back straight and mouths closed, awaiting the arrival of their headmistress to sit. Their behavior did not go unnoticed by the numerous students now taking their seats around them. Some, wrongly assuming that they were all French and didn't understand their language, allowed themselves mocking comments, and of course, at a volume loud enough to amuse as many people as possible. But Daphné didn't mind, preferring to see it as a great way to make fun of these fools the moment she opened her mouth to speak in her native language; The evening promised to be wildly entertaining!
Her gaze then turned to Fleur, and to her consternation, she noticed that she had not deigned to remove her cloak or scarf and was rubbing her hands as if the school were undergoing a terrible ice storm that might freeze her on the spot.
"I think our dear friend Fleur has not yet understood that we are at the outskirts of Scotland and not in Siberia," she muttered to her friends.
Tracey and the others looked at her strangely, but as they looked at Fleur, each one chuckled with amusement, drawing some intrigued glances. However, the sudden arrival of the teachers quickly subdued their laughter. Still, seeing that not a single Hogwarts student stood up to greet their headmaster, they struggled to resist the urge to laugh again when they noticed the scandalized looks of Fleur and Cordélia.
Their gesture, in any case, earned them the sympathy of the Hogwarts teachers, probably not accustomed to so much respect, as well as more or less discreet giggles from the students who didn't understand their behavior. But the Beauxbâtons girls had eyes only for their headmistress, and it was only when she was seated after Dumbledore invited her that they did the same.
"Yes, well... Ladies, Misses, gentlemen, dear ghosts, and especially dear guests, good evening!" greeted Dumbledore, remaining the only one who had not yet sat down. "I have the great pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts. I hope and am even sure that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable..."
A sudden giggle drew many eyes to Fleur, and she was now trying to regain her composure despite the blush on her cheeks under the gaze of dozens of heads turned towards her.
"What an idiot..." Tracey mumbled, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of this banquet," Dumbledore continued after a moment of hesitation. "But for now, I invite you to eat, drink, and consider this house as your own!"
All the tables immediately filled with multiple dishes as conversations suddenly became lively. Daphné noticed that to honor his guests, Dumbledore had instructed the kitchens to prepare various dishes from the different schools present, and with only slightly feigned delight, she found in the middle of the sauces and poultry on their table a small bowl containing a beautiful piece of foie gras, a dish she had discovered a few years earlier and loved. Accustomed to French cuisine, she noted, however, that it was not the same for the Hogwarts students, and some looked at the contents of certain containers with a puzzled look, wondering what it could be. Their curiosity was amusing, much less so when a few glances turned to her and the toast on which she was now spreading foie gras, which obviously disgusted her little English comrades.
"One glass, one fork, and one knife for the entire meal!" Aglaé exclaimed, looking horrified at her cutlery.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," mocked Tracey, seemingly not as moved by this novelty as she filled her plate with chicken wings. "Politeness is not the order of the day here!"
"The barbarians..." she replied, cautiously picking up her fork. "And no one to serve us besides that! How will we survive in this place!?"
"Use your hands first," advised Lucie, serving herself from the dishes. "I wonder what Madame Beaumont thinks of this novelty... Will she resist this faux pas or quickly return to Beauxbâtons?"
All five turned their heads to the teachers' table, and it was with undisguised pleasure that they observed their deputy headmistress's bewildered expression, downright mortified by the tin cutlery in front of her. Daphné and her friends laughed heartily at this sight, but their laughter was brief and, above all, silent: Madame Beaumont might be busy discovering the ways of Hogwarts, but she still had very good hearing!
"Have you seen that one?" Marie asked them, gesturing to someone behind them. "His manners are those of a beggar!"
The girls didn't need to search long for the designated student. The sauce stains on his face made him stand out as easily as if a sign were hanging over his head. Daphné didn't know who he was, perhaps a Weasley given his red hair and patched uniform, but the boy next to him was easily recognizable, even after several years without seeing him. Matthew Potter had definitely not changed from her perspective, at least if you excluded the obvious extra weight rounding his figure and the haughty look he constantly displayed. Unlike his comrade, who was literally stuffing himself with every dish in his reach and splashing sauce on the uniforms of his neighbors, Matthew was eating quite neatly, his gaze constantly lowered to the chicken wings he was calmly dissecting without paying attention to what was happening around him. Truth be told, it would have been difficult for him to start a conversation with anyone, as the gap between him and his nearest neighbors was sufficient to accommodate someone, but it was impossible to know if this was Matthew's own choice to have no one but Weasley around him, or if his housemates had deliberately moved away from him to avoid speaking to him.
Daphné had absolutely no idea how Matthew's schooling at Hogwarts was going, not even the slightest information about his academic performance or his interactions with other students. However, she could easily imagine Matthew alienating the entire school with his odious and contemptible behavior. Wasn't he already like that when she had encountered him a few times? Rumors from the United Kingdom suggested that James Potter himself did not seem affected by his wife's departure and willingly displayed himself with new conquests whom he discarded as soon as they ended up in his bed. So, it wasn't a stretch to think that Matthew might be completely disinterested in his mother's fate and continue his little life without being in the least bit upset by changing his habits or behavior, only a thin line separated supposition from certainty.
Lost in her thoughts, Daphné belatedly realized that Matthew had finally looked up from his plate to plunge his brown irises into hers, perhaps aware that someone had been watching him for some time. Sister-in-law and brother-in-law stared at each other for long seconds, sizing each other up without the latter knowing who the girl was stubbornly challenging him with her gaze. But in the end, Daphné was surprised to see him raise his glass and tilt it slightly toward her as if to toast before drinking it in one go, his gaze never leaving hers. Worse, a smile that boded ill spread across his face, but Daphné waited a few more seconds before turning away from him, disturbed by this sudden change in behavior. Had he recognized her? After all these years, and despite her significant change in appearance, the risk was entirely possible, but she preferred to have confirmation before jumping to such a conclusion.
After a while, the dishes containing the desserts were emptied of their contents, and as if they had never been used, the school's tableware became as clean and shiny as before the start of the meal. There was now a particularly heavy atmosphere of anticipation that hinted that the reality of the Triwizard Tournament was about to descend on everyone present, students and teachers alike. Everyone was now waiting for Dumbledore to speak, but he seemed to be content with the oppressive atmosphere in the Great Hall, as well as the excitement and impatience felt by many students. Daphné herself couldn't help but feel these emotions within herself, even though, unlike Fleur, who, like her friends, considered participating in the tournament, she didn't feel particularly invested in the course of the Triwizard Tournament. If given the choice, she would have preferred to stay at Beauxbâtons, continuing to study magic or even embroider handkerchiefs. Finally, Hogwarts' headmaster seemed to remember that he was the head of the host school for the tournament, as he finally stood up from his seat, arms outstretched as if to give the image of a venerable sage about to announce great news to all:
"The Triwizard Tournament is now beginning," he announced, smiling broadly at the faces turned toward him. "However, allow me to introduce Mr. Barthemius Crouch, Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation..."
A few polite applause could be heard, but these mostly came from foreign students. Hogwarts students, on the other hand, were too busy listening to their headmaster to greet Crouch Sr. properly, who, for his part, seemed not at all bothered by this and appeared mostly absent, his eyes fixed on his empty plate.
"... And Ludo Bagman, Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports!"
This time, the applause was much more enthusiastic, although now Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang students did not understand this sudden enthusiasm. Dumbledore then explained that the two men had worked together in recent months to set up the tournament as quickly as possible, omitting at the same time that to organize such an international event, it was necessary to consider that there were several parties sitting around a table and that the participation of the Russian and French ministries was also essential. However, those who noticed this put it down to forgetfulness, except for Madame Maxime, who slightly furrowed her brows. Finally, the time came when the reliquary was called, and if some people believed that it was an individual responsible for selecting the three champions, the astonishment was almost general when a shabby-looking man with long dirty hair and an unkempt beard arrived, holding a heavy wooden chest that he deposited heavily in front of Dumbledore.
"It would have been so funny if he missed a step," Tracey commented with a hint of amusement, watching him descend the few steps separating the part of the dining hall reserved for students from the one where the teachers' table was, which was slightly elevated.
Her remark elicited giggles from some girls, but the tension in the air was palpable the moment Dumbledore slightly waved his wand to open the chest containing a roughly carved wooden cup from which blue flames sprang.
"The instructions for the tasks that the champions will have to perform this year have been carefully established by Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch," Dumbledore continued, once again omitting the contributions of the French and Russian delegations in organizing the tournament. "Three tasks will take place at various times during the year and will test the champions' qualities, their magical abilities..."
His gaze lingered oddly on the location where the Beauxbatons girls were seated, and while they were too far away to notice, Madame Maxime didn't miss the slight smile that had crept onto Dumbledore's face.
"Their daring, their deductive power, and, of course, their ability to react to danger. As you know, three champions will compete in this tournament, one for each of the participating schools. Obviously, the danger of the tasks will differ depending on whether the chosen person is a boy or a girl... So, my ladies, you will not be penalized!"
If Dumbledore had thought of being courteous to the female gender, he was mistaken. There was no visible gesture or sympathetic look towards him from Beauxbatons, and even some Hogwarts girls seemed horrified by this last directive.
"Does he think we are incapable of handling dangerous situations as well as men?" Fleur muttered angrily.
For once, Daphné totally agreed with her, and judging by the glances and nods that had appeared around her, all her fellow students seemed to think the same. But they didn't have time to grumble any longer because Dumbledore spoke again, completely ignoring the chill he had cast over the audience.
"The champions will be scored based on their performances in completing the tasks, and the one who has the most points will be declared the winner. The three champions will be chosen by an impartial judge, which happens to be this Goblet of Fire in front of me. Anyone who wants to submit their candidacy to be chosen as a champion must write their name and the name of their school legibly on a piece of parchment and drop it into the cup. You will have only 24 hours to do so, which means the champions will be chosen at the same time tomorrow night. The three people deemed most worthy to represent their school will thus be chosen by the cup, and know that when you decide to be the representative of your school and your name comes out of this cup, you are obliged to participate in this tournament to the end, and nothing can get you out of it. The magical contract that binds you to this cup and, more generally, to this tournament will only end on the evening of the last task, at the end of the current school year. The Goblet will be placed in the school's entrance hall, and to prevent any student who is not of the required age from participating in this competition from attempting to override this rule, I will personally draw an age line around it that will prevent anyone under the age of seventeen from approaching the cup. I invite you to think carefully before proposing your name, and above all, do not do so if you are not sure you have the necessary abilities to participate. That's it. Now, I believe it's time to go to sleep. Good night, everyone!"
In a thunderous roar of dragged chairs and lively conversations, the Great Hall came back to life, and without waiting, Hogwarts students quickly left the room towards their common rooms. Behind, only the Beauxbatons girls remained, sitting quietly and waiting for Madame Beaumont to join them to leave as well and find the comfort of the carriage. The Durmstrang boys also stayed, seemingly adhering to their headmaster's customary recommendation. However, there was never any question of waiting in silence for their deputy headmistress, and Tracey jumped at the chance to break the silence that had settled among her peers.
"I can't wait for tomorrow!" she said with enthusiasm. "I wish I were a mouse and could sneak around the school to find out who will put their name in the Goblet of Fire!"
"There will be no surprise from Beauxbatons; all the candidates will present themselves at the same time tomorrow morning," Daphné reminded her without seeming to be more interested in their conversation than necessary. "If you had bothered to listen to Madame Maxime's speech at the beginning of the school year, you would already know this."
"Fleur has already announced that she will participate in this competition," argued Lucie, glancing toward the Veela. "But I haven't heard of any other candidacy among the seventh-year students!"
"Because, unlike Fleur, some know how to keep a secret and thus avoid the ridicule she has been subjected to since the announcement of her participation," replied Daphné, recalling with undisguised pleasure the snickers of some students every time the Veela's candidacy was brought up.
Fleur did not enjoy great popularity at Beauxbatons, mainly due to her haughty and arrogant behavior. Her candidacy for the Triwizard Tournament became an opportunity for those who held a grudge against her, a chance to mock the girl whom many envied. Wealthy, powerful, and above all, stunningly beautiful, Fleur, along with Daphné, was one of the most prominent students in the school according to the school administration. On the occasion of the Triwizard Tournament, Madame Maxime had never hidden her preference for Fleur's candidacy, seeing it as a way to showcase the girl's charms along with the school's emphasis on beauty, excellence, and high standards. Regardless of the criticisms against her participation, Daphné agreed that she would be the first to support Fleur if she were chosen, even knowing that the reason for their mutual animosity was the boy for whom they shared similar feelings. Wasn't the purpose of this tournament to bring people together beyond their origins or differences? If there was to be any unity, it might as well start within the schools themselves.
"Ladies," Madame Beaumont called to them, heading in their direction with a rather irritated expression. "We are leaving immediately. Your classes will begin tomorrow, and I don't want you to mistakenly believe that a change of school, even temporarily, would imply a relaxation of your disciplines. Follow me!"
Without waiting for anything, her students immediately followed her at a pace, although much more brisk and leisurely than with Madame Maxime. Since the introductions had been made, each girl could also follow without needing to be sorted according to her social status or wealth. Daphné indulged in the luxury of being among the last to leave the Great Hall, accompanied as always by her four friends. However, she was surprised to notice that the entrance hall was not entirely empty, and two boys, in particular, were casually leaning against a wall, seemingly waiting for something or someone while watching the line of Beauxbatons girls. Daphné suppressed the urge to gulp when she realized that it was Matthew and his red-haired friend, especially since she had to pass close to him to exit. Her intuition suggested that Matthew might be there for her, and this impression was confirmed when he finally fixed his eyes on her, a less-than-friendly smile appearing at the same time. Daphné pretended to ignore him, but as she passed by, she couldn't overlook the words he whispered as a warning:
"Glad to see you again, Greengrass."
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