Although the two wizarding schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were no longer basking in past glory, the monumental achievements they once had still left shining marks in everyone's hearts.
So when word spread that their delegations were about to arrive at Hogwarts, the hearts of all Hogwarts students began to burn with excitement.
This, to a certain extent, eased some of the gloom weighing on the students.
Because the professors of every subject were like warhorses that had lost all restraint, galloping wildly down a road called "brutality."
Especially the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
He clearly had no intention of teaching according to any proper curriculum. His first class for every year was uniformly the same, demonstrating the three Unforgivable Curses.
That smashed every last bit of the students' beautiful expectations of him into dust. On top of that, what he had done to Link had slowly spread through the mouths of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, until now the entire student body was petitioning their Heads of House, and even their parents, to protest against him.
But they all quickly fell silent.
Because from the second class onward, Moody began making every student go up one by one to experience what it felt like to be controlled by the Imperius Curse. He glorified it by calling it "training their resistance" against the curse.
Thanks to Moody's twisted sense of fun, once he controlled boys or girls, regardless of size or looks, they would leap and hop around like monkeys, cackling nonsense.
It left deep psychological scars in every student.
It was simply too humiliating.
They wanted to resist, but by then it was too late.
After all, the one person most likely to drive Moody out, Link, had already been "bought off" by Dumbledore, who gave him an entire bottle of phoenix tears as well as the privilege for him and Emily to skip Defense Against the Dark Arts practical lessons.
In such circumstances, the tormented students could only pin their hopes on the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations, praying that Moody would restrain himself a little.
Because if international guests witnessed what Moody was doing, the seriousness of the situation would skyrocket.
And so, amidst the anticipation of countless students, October 30th finally arrived.
Led by their Heads of House, the students of the four houses filed out of their common rooms and gathered at the castle's front steps.
"George! Fred! If you two keep fooling around, I swear I'll make Mr. Filch take down every single chain and whip in his office and use them on you!"
"Neville! Wipe your face clean, quick!"
"Miss Patil! You had better take that ridiculous, laughable flower off your head right now!"
———
Professor McGonagall, face like iron, strode back and forth through the Gryffindor ranks, her cold, marrow-freezing reprimands cracking out every now and then.
One only needed to look at her tightly pressed lips to see she was truly furious.
And it was no wonder, because Gryffindor's formation was such a mess it was almost unbearable to look at.
Compared to them, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw lines were much better.
The Slytherins had noble manners and discipline etched into their very bones, while Ravenclaws were naturally quiet and well-behaved.
That meant Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick didn't need to do a thing, their students lined up neatly on their own.
As for Hufflepuff, well, that was another story.
Professor Sprout herself was a witch who cared little for appearances, even a bit sloppy.
Years of tending plants in the greenhouses had left her utterly unconcerned with her own image, her hair a permanent frizzy tangle, and naturally she didn't care how messy her students looked, nor how many odd trinkets and accessories they wore.
In her eyes, the nobility of the soul was far more important than the cleanliness of the body.
Professor McGonagall had often wanted to help her manage her grimy students, but sadly she had no right to interfere in the affairs of Hufflepuff.
Just like now, she had no authority to deal with Link and Emily, who had slipped out of line and were whispering affectionately by the Slytherin ranks.
"Professor McGonagall looks furious. That's the fourth time she's rolled her eyes at us."
Holding onto Link's arm, Emily spoke with a hint of pride.
Link tugged her cloak snugly around her shoulders and smiled gently, "Don't worry about her. She's got a kind of OCD, she values rules more than anything else."
Late October was still bitterly cold. Evening had fallen, and thick waves of mist wrapped Hogwarts like a veil. Even the full moon above looked hazy behind it.
The air was damp and chilly, but Emily, leaning against Link, took a deep breath and felt warm inside.
She caught Link's hand, which had just finished adjusting her cloak, and softly, with a trace of longing, said, "Link, how do you think the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations will arrive? Portkey?"
"No, not a Portkey. At a first meeting, they'll definitely choose something eye-catching to surprise us, to show off their power." Link held her hand in his, protecting it in his palm.
"Beauxbatons will probably come by Abraxan-drawn carriage. I heard Madame Maxime say it's their most magnificent transport. As for Durmstrang, I'm not so sure."
Just as Link finished speaking, Emily's body trembled. He was about to ask what was wrong, when she tilted her head up, pointed at the moon, and cried,
"They're here! You guessed right, they're using the carriage!"
Link raised his head too. In the hazy halo of moonlight, a small black dot was growing larger and larger.
Excited shouts rose from students all around who had also spotted it.
And then, before everyone's eyes, the dot descended from the moon.
It was a massive carriage.
Sky-blue, the size of a house, pulled by twelve winged horses each as big as full-grown Clydesdales. They swept over the Forbidden Forest, the hurricane of their passage whipping Black Lake into ripples, before finally landing before the Hogwarts crowd.
Iron horseshoes struck sparks against the stone platform, and when the great carriage touched down it thundered like an explosion, throwing the Hogwarts ranks into chaos.
Professor McGonagall, as always, charged straight into the mess, furiously scolding troublemakers.
Meanwhile, the carriage door, engraved with the Beauxbatons crest (two golden wands crossed, each tip shining with three stars), swung open.
A handsome boy in light-blue robes leapt down and quickly pulled out a long golden staircase from beneath, then stood respectfully aside.
Moments later, the towering yet graceful Madame Maxime descended first, followed silently by a dozen boys and girls in fine silk robes of pale blue. They stole reverent glances up at the castle.
The Hogwarts students stared back, though their eyes were mostly fixed on Madame Maxime.
Never had they seen a woman so tall, yet so elegant. Their fascination was instant.
But their gazes soon shifted.
Because among the Beauxbatons students was a silver-haired girl of breathtaking beauty. Her shining aquamarine eyes seemed to radiate magic.
Every boy present felt his heart struck a violent blow at the sight of her, his expression going blank, murmuring incoherently, unable to look away.
The silver-haired girl seemed to be searching for someone.
Her eyes wandered over the Hogwarts ranks until they found Link and Emily at the edge. Then, her lips bloomed with a radiant smile like sunlight.
She waved excitedly at Link, mouth moving in words too distant to hear.
"Oh my God! She's waving at me!"
A freckled Slytherin boy nearby exclaimed in delight.
Immediately, every boy around him bristled with jealousy, pushing and shoving until Snape's glacial glare froze them into silence.
Link's situation wasn't any better.
Thanks to Fleur's greeting, Emily was now glaring at him in fury.
"You're still in touch with her?!"
She burst out. Link reacted quickly, raising his hand toward the sky and swearing,
"I swear! Absolutely not!"
Emily said nothing, only stared hard into his eyes, hunting for a lie.
After a long pause, she huffed coldly, then clung to his arm even tighter, as if declaring her claim to him.
Unfortunately, Madame Maxime had by then finished her greetings with Dumbledore.
Not wishing her students, dressed only in thin silk robes, to freeze, Dumbledore led the Beauxbatons delegation inside the Great Hall early.
That only made Emily pout harder, tugging at Link's arm in protest.
But Link merely smiled and soothed her, because even angry, Emily looked adorable.
And truthfully, he didn't think she was really angry. To him, she seemed more like she was using this as an excuse to act spoiled toward him.
And he didn't mind one bit.
"Alright, stop being mad. Look, the Durmstrang delegation is here."
After comforting her, Link pointed toward the Black Lake.
Just as he expected, Emily's curiosity immediately overtook her anger, and she craned her neck to watch.
A strange, deep sound filled the air, like a submarine rushing upward, or a sea monster roaring from the depths.
The lake surface boiled.
Amid crashing waves, a massive whirlpool opened at its center. From it rose a mast, then sails, then the ship's hull…
Before the astonished crowd, a grand ship surfaced.
Its shape was bizarre and broken, like a wreck just salvaged from the deep, weeds and even trapped fish still clinging to it.
Shrouded in mist, the ghostly green-glowing vessel crept steadily toward them.
Splash!
A rusted iron anchor dropped into the lake.
From the faintly lit portholes came shadows, and soon a crowd of hulking men emerged onto the deck and filed ashore via a gangplank.
Link saw clearly that every one of them was a massive brute.
They all wore heavy fur coats, the pelts matted and filthy, with stern faces radiating a savage, intimidating aura.
Link thought that with weapons and armor, they could easily pass for Viking raiders.
Different from the students, the leader at the front was an old man in a pristine white fur cloak.
From afar he roared with laughter to Dumbledore,
"Hahaha! Dumbledore! My old friend, how are you?"
"Excellent, thank you, Karkaroff." Dumbledore smiled in return.
The two drew near and embraced warmly.
With the light of the Great Hall shining out, Link finally saw the man's face.
Tall and thin, with a white beard. But unlike Dumbledore, his hair was clipped short, his beard trimmed into a neat little goatee curled at the tip.
Link frowned.
He disliked this Karkaroff.
If the Durmstrang students were like powerful snow wolves, then Karkaroff gave off the impression of a sly, cowardly white fox.
The mix of the two created a jarring sense of wrongness.
"Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang."
Emily said with distaste. "I don't like him. He's a shameless opportunist! Back when Voldemort ruled Britain, he was one of the core Death Eaters, riding on Voldemort's power to line his pockets with Galleons."
"After Voldemort fell, Mad-Eye Moody caught him. But he escaped punishment by selling out other Death Eaters, and in the end he became Durmstrang's Headmaster!"
"Traitor Karkaroff. Hah! Don't you think the Ministry planted him in Durmstrang on purpose? Just so every one of their students would end up like him." Link sneered.
"Of course I believe you." Emily answered softly, and the two shared a smile.
They hadn't lowered their voices, but by now no one was listening anyway.
All eyes were fixed on the especially towering figure standing behind Karkaroff.
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