CHAPTER 42: THE CHAMPIONS PART 2
Neville could only agree with her, and over the past three years, he himself had had the opportunity to see for himself that some students could barely read or write when they entered Hogwarts. Moreover, no particular classes were planned to help them, and those coming with a heavy school handicap could only struggle to follow the lessons given by the school. As for history or even sciences, they were not even mentioned at Hogwarts.
"Beauxbatons follows a completely different policy than Hogwarts," Daphné continued, easily noticing the reflection Neville had plunged into. "Education is divided into two branches: the so-called magical subjects that concern both charms, transfiguration, divination, the study of runes, arithmancy, and even the study of magical creatures, but also traditional subjects, those found in all Muggle institutes and academies. Beauxbatons seeks above all to perfect the education of its students by teaching them subjects from all possible horizons and according to the student's own choices. Thus, if a student wants to specialize in the sciences, she can take as additional subjects physics, chemistry, biology, advanced mathematics, and even zoology. The same goes for any other field, even those that might be more reserved for men, but few of us dare to venture into it, to be honest: I wouldn't risk holding a bow in my hands unless I were represented as Diana the Huntress, for example."
"Or maybe as Cupid," argued Tracey with a mischievous smile. "You could then shoot a few love arrows at your sweetheart..."
Amid the laughter of her best friend and Lucie, Daphné finally agreed to let her cheeks color a bright red, quickly disappearing, however, as soon as she felt it.
"You're really lucky," Neville affirmed without really taking part in the girls' camaraderie. "Most teachers here are relatively good, but there are a few who deserve to be inspected."
Surprised by his own admission, Neville seemed momentarily alarmed by his audacity, and with a swift nod of his head, he quickly looked behind to make sure that none of the professors he mentioned were present nearby.
"Judging by your behavior, one might think your teachers don't just teach," declared Marie. "Are you afraid of physical punishment, heir Longbottom?"
"N-no," he assured her with a shaky voice. "It's just that... One of them scares me a lot, and I wouldn't like to know he's right behind me."
This admission elicited a giggle from Marie and Aglaé, but a stern look from Tracey immediately silenced them.
"Professor Snape teaches potions," Neville continued nervously, "but he's so unpleasant and disdainful towards students that it's rare for any of them to find favor in his eyes. His classes are terribly distressing, especially since he just indicates the ingredients to use and the gestures to achieve a correct result in the preparation of our potion. Still, the rest of the time, he walks between the rows to denigrate our work, sarcastically comment on its result, and push us to our limits with his little cutting remarks. He doesn't really seem to enjoy his job, in truth, unless he just doesn't like children and teenagers..."
"Which would explain his behavior," commented Tracey.
"What's the point of teaching if you don't enjoy the job you're doing?" Daphné retorted. "The reason is probably something else, but that concerns only him."
"He also has a lot of sympathy for Slytherin students, but we can't blame him since he is the head of that house," he continued. "Draco Malfoy is one of his favorite students, and even when he catches him in the act of sabotaging someone else's potion, he still manages to blame the one who is the victim!"
Draco Malfoy was by no means a stranger in Daphné's mind, and the prospect of finding herself face to face with this little blond sneak frankly didn't brighten her mood. What would have happened to her if by chance her schooling had been closely linked to that of this pretentious and cunning daddy's boy? Oh, for sure, she certainly wouldn't have lasted for four years by his side, even if she had ended up in a house other than Slytherin.
"This Draco Malfoy seems charming," Aglaé said sarcastically. "A real gentleman..."
"There are worse ones here," Neville affirmed. "But as for the teachers, there's also Professor Binns, who teaches the history of magic and only talks about the wars between wizards and goblins during the seven school years..."
"Something to bring these two peoples closer and establish excellent relations afterward," scoffed Tracey.
"... And also Trelawney, who teaches divination. Her class lasts only two hours a week and boils down to continually predicting someone's death without anything ever happening. Matthew Potter is her favorite target, by the way, but I've been it too."
"But I don't feel like you're dead, Neville," argued Tracey, tapping his arm with her finger. "My finger doesn't even pass through!"
Embarrassed, Neville allowed it to happen, though it was difficult to say whether it was out of politeness or if he simply didn't dare to ask Tracey to stop. Daphné's best friend then amused herself for long seconds examining Neville from head to toe, concluding her diagnosis with the assertion that Neville was indeed not a ghost or a zombie but simply subject to a common disease called scarlet fever, to which Neville responded with a further blush of his cheeks.
"What can you tell me about Matthew Potter's school life, Heir Longbottom?" Daphné suddenly asked, deliberately ignoring Neville's earlier remarks about his title.
Neville looked at her curiously, troubled by the interest the blonde girl in front of him had in Matthew. But thinking quickly, he deduced that Matthew might be a subject of curiosity beyond the borders of his country, and that Daphné might find it interesting to know more about this boy; oh, how wrong he was.
"Well... He... He's not as one might think," he began with an uncertain voice. "He's not bad at magic, but he doesn't excel in subjects either... He can be very bad at some, especially in potions, just like me. But he has the sympathy of most teachers who would almost excuse his shortcomings, although I sometimes feel that this sympathy is feigned... Professor Dumbledore holds him in very high esteem, and he is probably the one who shows the most indulgence toward Matthew's whims and reports made by prefects about his behavior because you shouldn't believe what they say about him: he's probably the worst person, at least at Hogwarts, and next to him, Malfoy would almost be an angel."
"To that extent?" giggled Tracey. "But what does he do to have such an image?"
"Uh... He... He has a very high opinion of himself, a little too much probably, and despite his shortcomings in magic, he easily mocks people he considers inferior to him. I am one of those people according to him..."
Uncomfortable, Neville moved slightly on his piece of grass, and lowering his gaze, he didn't see the sympathetic looks from Lucie and Tracey.
"He considers the entire school to be his in a certain sense, and since no teacher reprimands him and the headmaster turns a blind eye to his actions, he stops at nothing to humiliate, belittle, and tyrannize students, even those older than him. And since the few people who stand up to him are constantly punished, no one except Malfoy wants to risk detention for hexing him in a corridor or giving him the correction he deserves. And corrections, he should have... In the first year, he humiliated a Gryffindor girl I liked, Hermione Granger. She spent her afternoon in the bathroom crying because of the things he said to her, and that very evening, she was violently attacked by a mountain troll. I never saw her again after that..."
His story cast a sudden chill over their little group, and even Daphné couldn't hide the horror that had just gripped her at this tale.
"A troll?" she couldn't help but say after a few moments. "How did a troll manage to get into this school?"
"We don't really know in truth," Neville explained. "It seems that it was the work of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was working undercover for You-Know-Who, at least that's what Dumbledore reportedly told some people at the end of the school year, and the rumor quickly spread. It would also appear that Matthew was the one who fought this troll and found Hermione's body, but I tend to believe that it's a rather sanitized version of that Samhain evening just to further burnish Matthew's reputation."
"How so?" Tracey inquired.
"As I told you, Quirrell was apparently in the service of You-Know-Who, and it seems that at the end of the year, Matthew confronted him to prevent him from seizing an object guarded by various traps set up by the teachers to protect it. During the end-of-year feast, Dumbledore told us all this, claiming in passing that Matthew had passed these various traps and that he had defeated both Quirrell and his master. He rewarded him for each trap with fifty points, which made a total of 350 points in a single day. I can tell you that the Slytherins were very unhappy with the result, especially since they had been in the lead all year in the race for the House Cup. But like the Slytherins, I didn't agree with these sudden extra points, and I know that everything Dumbledore told us is false."
"Why is that?" Daphné asked in an astonished tone, curious to know more.
"Because Matthew was sleeping snugly in his bed the night when the events Dumbledore reported supposedly took place," Neville explained. "I didn't dare contradict Dumbledore in front of everyone that day, especially since no one would have believed me, so I kept it to myself."
Neville continued his account of the next two years, telling the girls about the various problems the school faced and the dangers the students encountered during that time. Between the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and the continuous presence of Azkaban dementors following Peter Pettigrew's escape, one couldn't clearly say that everything was peaceful at Hogwarts. But one essential point was noted by Daphné: Even unintentionally, Matthew always found himself at the center of these problems, or at least that's what Dumbledore tried to make everyone believe by declaring at the end of each year that he, a simple twelve- and then thirteen-year-old teenager, had managed to overcome the difficulties he faced, without ever explaining how he had done it or what obstacles lined the path to his success. No, Dumbledore simply announced that Matthew had once again saved them, and Matthew never contradicted him; whether the details of the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the monster within, and how the Heir of the Potters had defeated it were known to no one, that was the least of Dumbledore's concerns, as well as the reasons surrounding this opening or the responsibility of its author. Likewise, the various times Peter Pettigrew was spotted at Hogwarts, the reasons for his presence, and how Matthew had eventually driven the criminal away and the hundreds of dementors that would have trapped him did not seem to interest Dumbledore enough for him to explain it to his students. The headmaster simply continued to adorn his student with more and more glory and renown, awarding him various rewards for services rendered to the school or granting him enough points to win his house in the race for the Four Houses Trophy each time.
The reason for all this deference toward Matthew completely escaped Daphné, especially since there was no source, no witness, no information that could support the headmaster's statements. Above all, the gullibility of the students, at least a large part of them, surprised and bewildered the heiress of the Greengrass family. How could even the professors think that one of their students could succeed where they had failed? And above all, how could an average student like Matthew Potter excel in affairs where magical talent seemed necessary, talent that he did not possess? According to Neville, it seemed that only the Slytherins doubted these tales, but the explanation mainly found its source in the anger of the latter every time they were overtaken in the race for the House Cup.
Ultimately, Matthew was in this school a kind of hero, a hero whose exploits were known to all but whom no one had ever seen, a hero with feet of clay because no one really liked him and who did nothing to be liked, a hero who had only one ally in the school, an old headmaster elevating him to this status for a purpose known only to him. In essence, there was nothing reassuring within the walls of Hogwarts. What on earth had possessed her to agree to come here?!
"This school is a real breeding ground for problems," declared Marie to the approving nods of her friends. "If this had happened at Beauxbatons, I certainly wouldn't have set foot there. A monster, a mad professor, a headmaster who seems powerless in the face of his school's problems and, moreover, incapable of preventing them, students all as stupid as each other and of indecent rudeness, a ridiculous competition between students divided between four houses for the sole reason of their qualities or flaws... Really, I cannot complain about Beauxbatons when I hear such nonsense!" "And I cannot help but agree with you, even if it hurts me to admit it," added Tracey. "There are things to review indeed," admitted Daphné, thinking that this school could not function as long as this divisive system between students persisted. "It is in the diversity of profiles that a community is refined, as each one can compensate for the shortcomings and faults of another. But here..." "It's not possible," concluded Neville with a pessimistic tone as he stood up. "I'd better go now; I still have a lot of homework to finish, especially the potion one... I hope to get something other than a 'dreadful' as a grade this time."
"Good luck!" encouraged Tracey as he bowed slightly to bid them farewell. By mutual agreement, and a few minutes after Neville's departure, all five judged that it would be better to occupy themselves in a different way than to laze under the foliage of a tree. So, the Beauxbatons carriage seemed to them like a good hiding place to indulge in sewing, revisions, or simply useful activities to pass the time while having fun. The day continued for them without anything troubling the tranquility in which they had immersed themselves since they returned to their dormitory. Only once did they deign to go out to share the midday meal with the rest of the students, but unlike some of their peers, Daphné and the others did not find it interesting to explore Hogwarts and its many corridors, postponing that to another day. Dinner, which preceded the selection of the three champions, was still in a jovial atmosphere, but where the anticipation began to show its nose in the conversations. The students' attention was more focused on the Goblet of Fire, now no longer in the entrance hall but in the center of the Great Hall, than on the contents of their plates. Without really paying attention, the students went from appetizers to desserts in less time than it took, and some had been digesting their meal for a long time when Dumbledore, finally realizing the tension that was gradually settling in the dining hall, got up from his seat, spreading his arms as if in a theatrical performance where he had the best role, the most important one too. "Dear students, teachers, members of the Ministry of Magic in representation, and future members of the Triwizard Tournament jury, it is now time to discover the names of the three students judged by the Goblet as the most deserving to represent each of the schools in the competition." Circling the teachers' table, Dumbledore walked towards the Goblet, and with a wave of his wand, he extinguished a large majority of the candles illuminating the Great Hall, while the remaining ones turned a bluish hue closely resembling the light emitted by the Goblet of Fire, thus giving a gloomy and cavernous atmosphere to the place. No sound broke the torpor that had engulfed the entire room, and as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the first name of the champion to be known by all, not a single person seemed to want to make the slightest sound, the slightest little noise that could break the heavy silence that had fallen over the assembly. Then, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the first name of the champion to be known by all, not a single person seemed to want to make the slightest sound, the slightest little noise that could break the heavy silence that had fallen over the assembly. Then, as if the Goblet were persistently remaining as calm as usual, it suddenly came to life, pouring a stream of bluish flames several meters high before spitting out a tiny piece of paper that Dumbledore caught in mid-air with a swift gesture of his hand, making Tracey believe that the Hogwarts headmaster might have been a Quidditch Seeker in his youth.
Her low remark had the effect of making those around her smile, but quickly the smiles disappeared when Dumbledore began reading from his piece of parchment: "The Hogwarts champion will be Cedric Diggory!" Immediately, thunderous applause ran through the four tables of the Great Hall, nuanced, however, depending on the house to which each was destined. While the Hufflepuffs applauded with joy, their representative, a young man with a rather handsome appearance according to Tracey's comments as she followed him with her gaze, seemed almost embarrassed by the sudden attention given to him, the other tables showed more restraint, or in some cases, frank disappointment. From the corner of her eye, Daphné noticed that Matthew was among those who did not applaud, but far from sharing the sentiment that animated her fiancé's little brother, she joined in the joy of the badgers, clapping politely. Diggory, awkward and uncomfortable as he stood up to make his way to the room adjacent to the Great Hall, disappeared in a few seconds behind the door, eyes downcast and a small strained smile on his face. A few seconds later, calm returned once again, but the tension had also considerably decreased; The nomination of the next champions now indifferent to the Hogwarts students who no longer hesitated to whisper to each other about their new champion's chances... or simply about his looks. Almost no one noticed that the Goblet had again taken on a strange bluish glow before expelling another piece of parchment that Dumbledore caught.
"The Durmstrang champion will be Viktor Krum!" he announced loudly and clearly. New applause was heard, especially from the students of that school who had been perfectly silent until then. Some even emitted roars like those of an enraged beast as their champion, moreover the star of Durmstrang, slowly rose from his seat to make his way to the same room where Diggory had entered a few moments earlier, his gait slightly limping, intriguing more than one in passing; Far from a broomstick, Krum seemed much less graceful, and his heavy silhouette compensated for this defect immensely.
Once Neville had left, attention turned once again to the Goblet, from which the name of Beauxbatons' champion was now expected. Instinctively, all the girls from the academy held hands, showing solidarity in adversity, and each held her breath when, for the third time, the Goblet of Fire came to life and tossed a new piece of parchment into the air, on which was scribbled the name of the lucky participant.
"The champion of Beauxbatons," began Dumbledore, unfolding the paper, "will be Fleur Delacour!"
Forgetting her grievances towards her, Daphné joined the others in congratulating a visibly astonished Fleur. Incredulity was certainly written on her face, at least for a brief moment, because in the span of a second, the Delacour heiress regained the cold and serious air that could easily rival Daphné's on her best days. Rising gracefully, she disregarded the foolish and disrespectful whistles from the most stupid fringe of Hogwarts and Durmstrang students to make her way towards the teachers' table. After a short bow in the direction of Madame Maxime, she joined her two opponents and disappeared through the door behind the staff table.
"Do you think she can win?" asked Tracey as the applause began to subside.
"She is mean, mocking, disdainful, sometimes mean, light, and childish, but she is by no means foolish," assured Daphné. "I think she has as much chance as the others in this tournament, and as Beauxbatons students, we should all provide her with the means to reach the top. After all, it is about the reputation of our beloved school, and any means are good to make it shine."
Those who heard Daphné nodded in agreement, including those who had some issues with Fleur. But Dumbledore cut short the new conversations by speaking up again, using a spell to amplify his voice and thus force the reluctant ones to be silent.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed joyfully. "We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count on you to offer our champions all possible support. By cheering for your champions, you will contribute to establishing..."
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped talking, and the reason was obvious to everyone present as soon as the Goblet of Fire came to life once again.
"Could it be..." began Tracey, looking intrigued at the animated relic.
The idea that Daphné's best friend was about to formulate was confirmed the next second when a piece of parchment was expelled from the Goblet, quickly caught by Dumbledore to read it to the assembly. It took him a few seconds to give the name of the person who seemed to be a possible fourth champion, so much astonishment and perplexity were evident on his wrinkled face. In a much less confident and weaker voice, he read the two words that would give a new turn to this tournament:
"Matthew Potter."
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