Chapter 293. The School Representatives Arrive
A day passed.
Just as Adrian Wesson had expected, Albus Dumbledore did not approve Alastor Moody's request to increase the number of Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.
But he did allow Moody to hold a club of his own.
Moody gladly accepted this compromise.
Unfortunately, attendance was sparse, and not a single Slytherin student showed up.
Over the next few days, the handful of students who had tried it dropped out one after another—apparently because Moody's training was too rigorous.
In the end, the club had to be hastily suspended.
Time quickly slipped into mid-October.
On this day, a piece of exhilarating news appeared on the Hogwarts noticeboard—the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive on 30 October.
In an instant, something subtle shifted in the atmosphere of Hogwarts; a delicate excitement seemed to permeate the castle.
Even the professors were not immune.
At lunchtime, Adrian sat with Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout.
"Pomona, which colour bow tie should I choose?"
Perched on a chair padded with two cushions, Professor Flitwick held up two brightly coloured bow ties—one blue and one red—looking to Professor Sprout with great perplexity.
"The one on the left, dear," said Professor Sprout. "But I must remind you, the Triwizard Tournament is still some way off."
"Oh, it will be here soon," Professor Flitwick said, fastening the blue bow tie from his left hand. "I'm preparing for the Christmas ball—that's tradition."
"Christmas is even further off, Filius." Sprout turned to Adrian. "What do you think, Professor Wesson?"
"Ah, yes," Adrian replied absently, though he seemed in rather good spirits.
For him, today was a day worth celebrating.
However, it was not because of the Triwizard Tournament.
That very morning, the Tree of Wisdom had finally purified the soul fragment attached to Slytherin's locket, and he had hurried straight to America.
After his sister absorbed that portion of soul power, her soul was almost fully mended.
All they needed now was to obtain one more of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes…
He truly hoped there would be no more accidents.
After classes that afternoon, the Weasley twins came to find him.
"You're asking me for the recipe for Ageing Potion?" Adrian looked quite bemused after hearing their request. "Don't think I don't know what you're plotting—you want to put your names in for the Triwizard Tournament, do you?"
"Please, Professor!" they said in unison.
"Do you know how Hogwarts will be selecting its champion?" Adrian asked with interest.
The twins exchanged a glance.
"We looked up some information on past Triwizard Tournaments," Fred said honestly. "The tool used for the selection is a magical artefact called the Goblet of Fire."
"It's been the tradition for many editions," George added. "We figure this time will be no different."
"Oh? Seems you've done your homework," Adrian said, a little surprised. "I can give you the recipe for Ageing Potion, and even supply some ingredients. However, I have one condition."
"What condition?" Fred asked at once.
Adrian smiled slightly. "Give me one of every prank device you've made."
"Deal!"
They agreed with delight.
After receiving a whole hamper of miscellaneous contraptions, Adrian handed the twins the recipe for Ageing Potion along with a large bag of ingredients.
Even so, he remained doubtful that they could successfully brew it.
Ageing Potion is no easy brew; even students who have passed their Potions N.E.W.T.s are not guaranteed to manage it.
Amid everyone's anticipation, 30 October arrived right on schedule.
Today was the day the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations would reach Hogwarts.
At nearly six in the evening, all the students and professors assembled neatly before the castle doors.
The October evening breeze carried a thread of chill, but it did nothing to dampen the excitement on the students' faces.
Adrian stood with the professors; everyone had put on new robes—he had as well.
Even Severus Snape had specially washed his hair and tidied his hairstyle.
"How's my bow tie? Is it straight?" Professor Flitwick asked Adrian, all nerves.
"Perfect, Professor."
No sooner had Adrian spoken than a wave of gasps rose from the students.
"Look—up there!"
It seemed their guests had arrived.
Adrian looked up and saw a point of light swelling in the night sky, quickly revealing its true shape.
A dozen silver-maned winged horses were drawing a gigantic powder-blue carriage down from the heavens; their hooves skimmed the surface of the lake, throwing up crystalline sprays.
Adrian recognised the breed at once—Abraxans.
Abraxans are a type of winged horse; he had introduced them to his students in class.
Their most notable feature is their tremendous size—only such horses could possibly pull the carriage looming before them, as tall as five or six storeys.
The carriage settled solidly onto the open ground before the castle, drawing every eye.
"They certainly do… put on a show," Professor Flitwick murmured in awe, gazing up at the enormous carriage.
Madame Maxime—the towering Headmistress of Beauxbatons—descended from the carriage with measured grace. She was even taller than Rubeus Hagrid, yet her every gesture carried a noble elegance.
In bearing, she and Hagrid were polar opposites. Behind her came a group of Beauxbatons students in pale-blue silk uniforms, their eyes roving nervously and curiously over their surroundings—much like the Hogwarts students themselves.
"Welcome, Madame Maxime," Dumbledore said with a smile, stepping forward and extending his hand.
Tall as Dumbledore was, Madame Maxime still had to stoop to take it.
Adrian's gaze, however, was not on the Beauxbatons students or their Headmistress, but rather—
"Roskin?"
To his astonishment, he spotted the owner of the Magical Creatures shop in Diagon Alley mingled among the Beauxbatons students, with an astonishingly pretty little girl of about ten at her side, chatting and laughing with her.
While Adrian was still puzzling over it, Roskin followed Madame Maxime to one side, waiting for the Durmstrang delegation to arrive next.
She glanced around, and her eyes quickly met Adrian's.
She gave him a mysterious smile, then turned her head away.
Soon, a commotion rose from the direction of the Black Lake.
The waters churned; from the heart of a vast whirlpool, a great black ship slowly rose to the surface. Its hull was dripping wet and gleaming coldly, casting an unsettling impression.
The Durmstrang students filed down the gangplank, clad in heavy fur-lined cloaks, their expressions severe, completely unlike the Beauxbatons students who had arrived earlier.
At their head was Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. His sharp gaze swept the scene, and only when he saw Dumbledore did he break into a warm smile.
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