From first year to seventh year, nearly every Beauxbatons student had their eyes fixed firmly on the head table.
No one noticed that, at the very back of the fifth-year section, an extra person had quietly appeared.
Jon calmly dispelled his Disillusionment Charm and stood there—just like the other "students," staring straight ahead at Madame Maxime on the dais.
Once she saw that everyone had entered the Great Hall, Headmistress Madame Maxime nodded with a solemn expression and took her seat.
As she sat down, the other professors who had been standing followed suit, settling into their chairs one after another.
Only then did the students move. After all the teachers were seated, they sat down almost in perfect unison.
Jon reacted just in time. The moment the students ahead of him sat down, he quickly followed, taking his place at the long table.
The long-haired Beauxbatons girl sitting in front of him had just turned around—and froze in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected someone to suddenly be sitting behind her.
"Confundo."
Jon raised one hand and murmured the incantation softly.
The girl's gaze went unfocused for a brief moment. Then, as if nothing were amiss, she turned back around.
Jon let out a quiet sigh of relief. His luck held this time—the wandless spell had worked perfectly. After being struck by the Confundus Charm, the girl seemed to have simply accepted that she hadn't been the last person in the row after all.
Even with everyone seated, the Great Hall remained deathly silent. Following the example of the other Beauxbatons students, Jon wiped his cutlery clean and sat upright with proper posture.
"Very good," Madame Maxime's voice rang out from the distant head table. "Then let the banquet begin."
She clapped her hands lightly. Instantly, empty golden plates and bowls appeared on the long tables. A few seconds later, they were filled with all kinds of food.
...
Just as Fleur Delacour had once remarked at Hogwarts, the quality of Beauxbatons' cuisine truly surpassed that of Hogwarts.
After all, British cooking tended to favor simplicity and practicality, a stark contrast to the more elaborate traditions found elsewhere—and the same generally applied to British house-elves.
The French, on the other hand, approached food with an entirely different philosophy. Their dedication to cuisine was no less serious than that found in many Eastern culinary traditions.
As at Hogwarts, the plates were soon piled high with dishes—but Jon had never seen such an extravagant spread there. An overwhelming variety was laid out before them:
Burgundy snails au gratin, pan-seared foie gras, lobster, frog legs, assorted cheeses, roast suckling pig, saddle of lamb, duck served pink, creamed sole, Provençal fish stew, Strasbourg cream cakes, and more.
There were even numerous unfamiliar delicacies Jon couldn't name at all.
Once the feast began, the restrained—almost solemn—atmosphere in the Great Hall relaxed considerably.
Madame Maxime no longer concerned herself with maintaining order. She leaned gracefully toward another female professor, offering her a glass of wine. Around the hall, soft chatter rose as students ate and talked.
Still, the scene was far from the lively chaos of Hogwarts' opening feasts.
Jon, for his part, showed no restraint. He sampled a bit of everything, piling his plate high before digging in with enthusiasm.
The food was genuinely good.
"I don't think I've seen you before," the girl seated to his left leaned closer, asking with mild curiosity.
"Yes… I'm a new student," Jon replied briefly. "I just transferred from Durmstrang."
Students transferring from Durmstrang to Beauxbatons because they couldn't adapt to that school's atmosphere was hardly unusual. The girl didn't seem particularly surprised. She soon turned away, whispering with her friends on the other side.
The somewhat lonely banquet gradually drew to an end.
Once nearly everyone had eaten their fill, the remaining food vanished from the plates all at once. In its place appeared a variety of desserts—odd, milky-white jellies and trays of rose-shaped pastries among them.
Jon thought Albus Dumbledore would definitely have loved these.
Many students chatted happily with those around them while enjoying dessert.
There was no set ending time for the banquet. Some students who had already finished eating began to leave the Great Hall. On the head table, Jon noticed that Madame Maxime's towering figure had also disappeared.
"Looks like it's time to head to the Headmistress's office," Jon thought.
He gently tapped the girl beside him on the shoulder. "Excuse me—could you tell me where the Headmistress's office is? I have something I need to speak to Madame Maxime about."
"Seventh floor of the castle," she replied. "Opposite the painting The Knight on Fire."
"Alright, thank you."
Jon stood up and left the long table.
...
The noise of the Great Hall gradually faded behind him as Jon moved carefully through Beauxbatons Castle.
There were hardly any people around. Only a small number of students had finished dinner, and most of them had already returned to their dormitories.
Torchlight illuminated the marble floors, casting faintly eerie shadows. Every now and then, a ghost would drift out of a wall, more than capable of startling the unwary.
Unlike Hogwarts, however, the staircases here didn't shift and rearrange themselves at random—at least he didn't have to worry about getting lost.
The seventh floor was the top floor of the castle. That prompted Jon to mutter inwardly, "Do all headmasters really like living at the very top of their castles?"
"The Knight on Fire… the Knight on Fire… the Knight on Fire…"
Muttering to himself, Jon examined every oil painting lining the corridor.
He had to admit, they were all exquisite works of art.
An emperor standing resolutely in the snow… a citizen dead in his bathtub… a monastery engulfed in flames… a bloodstained guillotine… a contemplative alchemist…
When Jon stopped in front of a painting titled The Hunchback Bell-Ringer, the ugly, hunched man in the painting turned around and grunted gruffly, "What are you staring at?"
"Ah—sorry," Jon said quickly. "Do you happen to know where the painting The Knight on Fire is?"
"One hundred and ten steps to the left," the man replied without hesitation. "Then turn right and walk another twenty-six steps."
With that, he turned back and resumed ringing the bell.
The loud clang, clang echoed through the corridor, making Jon's scalp prickle.
"Alright, thanks!" Jon called out, though he wasn't sure the man heard him. The bell kept ringing regardless.
Following the directions, Jon hurried on.
One hundred and ten steps forward, then a right turn—
"Twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six…"
He stopped, lifted his head—and saw the oil painting before him.