"By five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, arrive at the highest point within a ten-kilometer radius?"
The line left Jon completely baffled. He couldn't quite figure out what it was supposed to mean.
So the next afternoon, he could only follow the instructions exactly and do as told.
From his current location, the highest point within a ten-kilometer radius was naturally the summit of Eagle's Nest Mountain.
Climbing that steep peak was no easy task… but with the help of a giant eagle, reaching the top became remarkably simple.
Sandru, transformed into a giant eagle, carried Jon in a single flight straight to the summit of Eagle's Nest Mountain—
The mountaintop was the "crown" of the left peak among the twin eagle-shaped mountains: a modest cliff. A thick, ancient cedar stood there, its roots gripping the rocky crevices as it rose tall and straight.
Leaning against the tree, Jon swept his gaze across the surroundings. The vast land below, the dense forests, and the entirety of Eagle's Nest Mountain and Krujë city were all laid out before him—a truly spectacular sight.
Sandru shifted back into human form, smiled, and said, "When I was a child and had just learned how to fly, I loved coming here to look at the scenery."
"Yes, it really is beautiful," Jon replied, nodding thoughtfully.
He then glanced at his watch. It was already 4:55 p.m.—only five minutes remained until the appointed time.
"So, how are you planning to leave?" Sandru asked curiously. "Flying off on a broom? I've heard that you foreign wizards who can't fly usually rely on broomsticks."
"A broomstick?" Jon shuddered involuntarily. The distance from Albania to France spanned several thousand kilometers… riding a broomstick all that way would be downright horrifying.
"Of course not," Jon said quickly. "There should be some kind of transportation coming to pick me up."
"Oh." Sandru responded casually, then his expression turned serious. "If you ever have the time, you're always welcome to visit Krujë again."
"Of course. I will," Jon replied.
"Elder Finis asked me to pass on a message," Sandru said solemnly. "You've helped us immensely. Eagle's Nest Mountain will always recognize you as a friend. If you ever run into trouble in the future, we will do everything we can to help you."
"Mm." Jon nodded back just as seriously.
"Oh—wait, what's that?!" Sandru suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the sky in shock.
A black speck was rapidly approaching from above.
...
Yes—a massive object was cutting through the deep blue sky, flying straight toward the mountaintop.
It grew larger and larger by the second.
"It looks bigger than fifty giant eagles," Sandru muttered under his breath.
A gigantic black carriage came hurtling toward them. The carriage itself was nearly half the size of a train car, pulled through the air by eight winged horses. They were Abraxans, massive winged horses from France—golden-coated, enormous in size, and astonishingly fast in flight.
Even so, this carriage was noticeably smaller than the one that had visited Hogwarts two years earlier.
The carriage flew lower and lower, then descended at an incredible speed. Jon and Sandru quickly stepped back.
Boom after boom rang out as hooves as thick as bowls struck the grass at the mountaintop. The golden horses shook their massive heads, their fiery eyes rolling as they scanned the surroundings. The carriage wheels, meanwhile, still hovered above the ground, the rear wheels spinning from inertia.
The carriage door facing Jon bore a crest—two golden wands crossed, each topped with three stars. With a loud bang, the door swung open, and a golden spiral staircase was thrown down.
"Christopher Patrick, is that correct?" A sharp voice suddenly called out from behind the eight Abraxan horses.
Only then did Jon notice a slender wizard seated at the very front of the carriage, where the coachman would normally sit.
One hand held the reins, the other gripped a wand, and his hair was thoroughly mussed by the wind.
"Yes, sir," Jon answered promptly, nodding.
"There should only be one," the wizard said. A parchment appeared before him, floating in midair as it unfolded. "The student located in Albania should be only you."
"That's right."
"Wait… Patrick, are you a new student?" the wizard suddenly asked, studying him with curiosity. "You look unfamiliar."
"Yes. I was studying at Durmstrang before and just transferred this term," Jon explained briefly.
"No wonder," the slender wizard said. "This is the first time in all these years I've had to stop in Albania. I must say, the scenery isn't bad at all." He used his wand to fuss with his hair, trying to smooth it down a little. "Allow me to introduce myself—Philip Madan, Beauxbatons' gamekeeper and Abraxan caretaker."
"Pleased to meet you, Professor Madan," Jon said, bowing slightly.
"Professor? That's far too grand," Madan muttered, though he still returned the bow politely. "Just call me 'sir.' Now hurry up and board, Patrick. We need to reach Bitola at 5:15, Athens at 5:40, and finally Paphos at 6:20."
Jon bid Sandru a final farewell, then climbed up the golden spiral staircase and entered the carriage.
Inside, more than a dozen young witches and wizards were already seated. They all had Eastern European features and looked very young—clearly Beauxbatons students, ranging from first year all the way to seventh.
Everyone was busy with their own affairs, but the moment Jon boarded the carriage, they all paused what they were doing and began fastening a rope around themselves—something very much like a seatbelt.
Jon placed his suitcase on the footrest, then found an empty seat and sat down.
Following the others' example, he quickly strapped on the seatbelt-like rope as well.
"Hold tight!" Mr. Madan's shrill voice rang out from outside.
The entire carriage shuddered violently, then shot forward at terrifying speed. If Jon hadn't fastened the safety rope in advance, he would have been flung straight onto the floor, face-first.
...
From Albania… to Macedonia… then Greece… and finally Cyprus…
To be honest, Jon found the whole journey rather fascinating.
So far, the Abraxan carriage was his favorite wizarding means of flight.
The carriage interior wasn't crowded at all. Both the floor and the walls were transparent, allowing a clear view of the scenery below. Of course, if you found the experience unpleasant, a light tap of your wand against the floor would cause the transparent surfaces around you to revert to solid walls and flooring.
Aside from the brief moments during takeoff and landing, the ride itself was remarkably smooth and comfortable throughout.
Like the other Beauxbatons students, Jon untied the annoying "safety rope" once the carriage settled into high-speed flight.
After arriving in Paphos, Cyprus, and picking up the final two students, the carriage reached full capacity. Mr. Philippe Madan then directed the carriage to turn around, preparing to head back toward Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in the Pyrenees.
Unfortunately, by then night had already fallen, and lamps were lit inside the carriage. The scenery below was nothing but darkness, impossible to make out.
Though even if it were visible, it would have been nothing more than the deep blue Mediterranean Sea.
The students aboard came from various countries, though most seemed to be from the Balkan Peninsula.
Unlike Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—which only accepted students from the British Isles—Beauxbatons recruited from the entire European continent outside Britain. And unlike Durmstrang, which imposed strict requirements on bloodlines and refused to admit Muggle-borns, Beauxbatons had no such restrictions. As a result, Beauxbatons was the largest magical academy in all of Europe.
For the same reason, it couldn't rely on a single train and one station like Hogwarts did. Beneath the Pyrenees, vast numbers of Abraxans were raised—these powerful winged horses flew even faster than Thestrals and were specifically bred to transport students from all over Europe.
Jon didn't recognize a single one of his fellow "classmates," nor did he feel any desire to get acquainted.
Two girls on his right were whispering to each other in a language he couldn't understand, while the large boy on his left was snoring loudly. Since no one paid him any attention, Jon tucked his wand into his robe and casually controlled a giant eagle feather with his bare hands, letting it drift back and forth around him.
...
The carriage moved incredibly fast. They had departed Cyprus at 6:20 p.m., yet when Madan announced that they were about to arrive at Beauxbatons, it wasn't even eight o'clock.
Students began entering an empty changing compartment one after another, switching into Beauxbatons uniforms—silver robes made of delicate silk that looked smooth and elegant. They looked quite flattering on the girls, though on the boys they came across as faintly effeminate.
Jon couldn't help feeling a bit awkward. He had never intended to actually attend Beauxbatons, so naturally, he hadn't purchased any uniforms or textbooks.
Even so, he showed no sign of panic. He remained seated calmly, waiting as his companions finished changing.
Just as Mr. Madan had said, Beauxbatons was indeed very close now. Against the darkness, the inverted triangular castle—hanging upside down in the sky and gleaming with light—was already clearly visible.
Beauxbatons was built atop a floating city nestled among the peaks of the Pyrenees. With night already fallen, the spires of the castle were lit one by one, giving it a resplendent, almost golden brilliance.
When the last student emerged from the changing compartment in a silk robe, Jon picked up his suitcase from the footrest and stepped inside the compartment himself.
He waited there briefly before feeling a powerful surge of inertia—the carriage was decelerating at extreme speed. When the sensation faded, the carriage came to a complete stop.
"We've arrived at Beauxbatons. Everyone may disembark!" Mr. Madan's voice drifted in faintly from outside.
Inside the changing compartment, Jon remained unhurried. He took out his wand, pointed it at himself, and murmured softly,
"Disillusionment."
...
The carriage had stopped at Nicolas Flamel Square. At the center of the square, the famous fountain was spraying higher than usual, splashing water onto many of the students nearby.
There wasn't just one carriage parked there, but at least thirty. The largest among them was enormous—its compartment was the size of a house, large enough to barely fit a giant inside.
Mr. Philippe Madan's carriage, which served Eastern Europe, was clearly the last to arrive.
The students disembarked one by one, forming a neat line. Before leaving, a kind-hearted girl gently knocked on the door of the changing compartment and whispered in French, "We're here. Hurry up and change."
"Coming," a slightly muffled reply in French answered from inside.
By the time the final student stepped off the carriage, the door to the changing compartment creaked open—but it was completely empty.
Neither Mr. Philippe Madan nor the other students noticed that one of their companions was missing. They marched in orderly steps toward the other side of the fountain square.
...
Jon Hart followed behind the crowd.
Because his clothing didn't quite fit in, he chose to conceal himself with the Disillusionment Charm.
He deliberately slowed his pace, carefully observing his surroundings. Jon couldn't help worrying whether Beauxbatons had someone like Moody—someone capable of seeing through invisibility.
Trailing the rest of the students, he passed the fountain, the small wooden plaque bearing the names of Nicolas Flamel and Perennelle Flamel, and the statue of the infamous dark wizard Gilles de Rais.
Soon, even more Beauxbatons students came into view.
The atmosphere at Beauxbatons was completely different from Hogwarts. It was immediately obvious that discipline here was far stricter.
All the students stood in orderly ranks in the square ahead. Nearly a thousand people formed the formation, yet it was impeccably neat—and utterly silent.
Jon didn't try to blend into the lines.
Instead, he pondered how best to find Headmistress Madame Maxime and submit his request to withdraw from the school.