Tracey leaned toward Eira with a smirk. "I'd wager half the boys in this room are already planning how to flirt with the Beauxbâtons girls."
"And half the girls," Eira replied smoothly, "are wondering whether the Durmstrang boys will look like warriors or trolls."
Tracey snorted into her pumpkin juice but then clutched Eira's arm, eyes suddenly shining. "Oh, but Eira—you don't understand—I can't believe Viktor Krum is actually coming here. Viktor Krum! At Hogwarts! I swear I'll faint if I even see him. No—worse, I'll probably say something stupid and he'll think I'm deranged."
Eira arched an eyebrow, amused. "So the mighty Tracey Davis, reduced to trembling over a Quidditch player?"
"Trembling?" Tracey squeaked, gripping Eira's sleeve harder. "I'm shaking! You don't know what it's like—he's a genius, a prodigy, the youngest Seeker in a century. Did you see him at the World Cup? The way he dives, Eira—the way he moves—oh, Merlin, I'd marry him on the spot if he asked."
"You'd marry him before he even finished asking your name," Eira teased, trying not to laugh at Tracey's frantic expression.
Tracey groaned dramatically, dropping her head to the table. "Don't make fun of me! This is serious. Imagine—he could walk right past us in the Entrance Hall tonight. What if he looks at me? What if he actually talks to me? What if—"
"—what if he asks you to be his broomstick," Eira interrupted, unable to resist.
Tracey swatted her, giggling despite herself. "You're insufferable. Honestly, though, if I could just get close enough, just say one thing—'hello,' maybe, or ask him to sign my Charms textbook—"
"Yes, because nothing says romance like a signed textbook," Eira said dryly.
Tracey sat up straighter, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, what if he does fancy Hogwarts girls? What if he doesn't like Beauxbâtons girls, all fluttery and perfect? Maybe he prefers someone… more down-to-earth. Someone like me." She clutched at her hair suddenly. "Do you think I should have cut it shorter? Everyone says he likes sleek hair."
"I think," Eira said, hiding a smile, "that if Viktor Krum chooses his girlfriends based on hair length, he's not worth your time."
"Oh, you're hopeless," Tracey sighed, then leaned even closer. "Speaking of Beauxbâtons—tell me everything. You've been in France. Is it true what people say? That their castle is made of pink marble and all the girls wear silk gowns to class?"
Eira chuckled. "No. They wear uniforms, just like we do. And the castle isn't marble—it's beautiful, yes, but not made of sweets and silk. Half the things you've heard are exaggerations."
Tracey's brow furrowed. "But I heard they eat nothing but fancy pastries and drink hot chocolate instead of pumpkin juice—"
"Pastries, yes, but they've got porridge and sausages just like here," Eira corrected, her voice patient. "And as for the hot chocolate, well… that part is true. The servants at Beauxbâtons make the richest chocolate you'll ever taste."
Tracey made a dreamy noise. "See? Even their drinks are perfect. No wonder everyone says the Beauxbâtons girls are gorgeous. Do you think they'll all swan in tonight with glittering robes and perfect hair? How are we supposed to compete?"
"You don't need to compete," Eira said lightly. "They're not here to judge us—they're here for the Tournament."
Tracey wasn't listening. She had launched back into her Krum obsession, her words tumbling faster with every sentence. "But imagine if Viktor Krum saw me and thought, 'She looks interesting.' I could go to Bulgaria after Hogwarts. We'd live in a big house near the Quidditch pitch. I'd bring you over in the summers, and you could sit in the VIP box with me while he plays. Oh, Eira—don't you dare laugh!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Eira said solemnly, though her eyes were alight with mischief. "Just promise me one thing—if Viktor proposes before dessert tonight, you'll at least let me finish my pudding before running off to Bulgaria."
Tracey burst out laughing, nearly spilling her pumpkin juice, and shook Eira's arm so hard that the silverware clattered. "You're awful. Absolutely awful. But I mean it, Eira—I'm going to meet him. Tonight. Even if I have to shove half of Gryffindor out of the way."
"I'll be right behind you," Eira said, smiling, "just to make sure you don't faint before you get there."
Tracey narrowed her eyes, then grinned. "Fine. But if I do faint, you'd better drag me close enough for him to step over me. At least then I can say Viktor Krum once walked right past me."
Eira laughed aloud, and for the rest of breakfast, Tracey's excited chatter never slowed, leaping from wild rumors about Durmstrang to dreamy speculations about Krum's favorite color. The whole Hall buzzed with the same wild anticipation, but beside Tracey, Eira thought, the rest of the school sounded positively calm.