Chapter 161 — Guests at the Table

‘We arrive in boats,’ Ron said as the ship turned towards the shore. ‘Why don’t our boats do that?’

I pointed out that ours only needed to cross the lake. He conceded the distance but still wanted a mast, which seemed a modest enough ambition beside the enormous vessel answering Hagrid’s signals. Figures waited behind its rail as the prow swung towards the landing place.

All around us, people who had never mentioned the Tournament were discussing whether to enter. I joined the movement towards the doors with Hermione beside me and asked how the schools intended to choose. There would surely be dozens of applicants before we reached our seats.

‘The Goblet of Fire,’ she replied. ‘It’s an enchanted object that selects the champions. I don’t know exactly how they’ve arranged the applications this time.’

I pictured a cup surrounded by hundreds of pieces of parchment. What would it recognise in them? I hoped the explanation would extend beyond telling us how nicely to write our names.

Hogwarts had dressed for company. Our House banners still hung above the tables, but two new sets of colours occupied the walls. Ribbons turned beneath the candles, winding into patterns before loosening again, and Filch stood near the entrance wearing a clean coat and a bow tie.

Ron noticed him immediately. ‘Someone’s made an effort,’ he murmured, tilting his head towards the caretaker.

‘You’ll have to try it sometime,’ Hermione said. Ron began defending his record just as Filch turned towards us, and suddenly found the nearest banner fascinating.

Filch checked his tie in the polished surface of a suit of armour. A muddy footprint caught his attention before he had finished; he scowled at it and went to fetch something to deal with it. I inspected my own shoes before he could return and compare the evidence.

Luna touched my arm as we reached the tables. ‘I’ll see you afterwards,’ she said, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder.

‘Save me a report on Ravenclaw,’ I asked. She pointed out that I could watch from my own seat. ‘I might miss something.’

She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek, quite untroubled by the people passing us. ‘Then pay attention,’ she said, and went to join Cho. I watched her find a place before following Harry towards Gryffindor.

The visitors were still absent. I suggested that they might be allowing us to finish the Sorting, and McGonagall soon led the first years to the front. Names, uncertain steps and applause settled into a familiar pattern while Hermione kept glancing towards the doors.

One boy tried to remove the Hat before it had finished deciding. McGonagall laid a hand on his shoulder, spoke too quietly for us to hear and persuaded him to sit again. When the Hat finally called out, he reached his table to an especially warm cheer.

Dumbledore rose as the last new student found a place. ‘Welcome back,’ he said, his gaze travelling along the tables. ‘And to those joining us for the first time, welcome to Hogwarts. This evening we have rather more introductions than usual.’

Laughter moved through the Hall. Filch came through the doors at a determined trot, delivered a message at the staff table and straightened his tie before hurrying out again. Dumbledore thanked him, then announced that our guests were ready.

Applause began before he could continue. I leaned out to look towards the entrance, caught Luna doing the same from her table and smiled at her before the Headmaster raised his hands for quiet.

‘Hogwarts will host the Triwizard Tournament this year,’ he said. ‘Three schools, three champions and three demanding tasks. The winner will receive the Triwizard Cup and a prize of one thousand Galleons.’

Fred turned towards George so quickly that I thought I might hear his neck click. Dumbledore let the latest burst of conversation settle before explaining that we would hear the entry conditions after welcoming our visitors. He reminded us that the competition had a history of considerable danger, however impressive its arrivals might be.

Harry nudged my arm and pointed towards the staff table. ‘That’s the man from the campsite,’ he whispered. ‘What was his name?’

‘Crouch. International Magical Co-operation.’ I followed his finger to the man sitting as stiffly as though somebody had hung his robes on a stand. ‘Percy works for him.’

I remembered the wand he had pointed at me and the effort of making him understand whom his officers had allowed to escape. Now he was here to organise another event. Somewhere in his Ministry there should still be an account of the last one with my name at the bottom.

Dumbledore extended an arm towards the doors. ‘Please welcome the students of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,’ he said, ‘and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime.’

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The visiting girls entered in pale blue robes, their measured steps following a rhythm I could not hear until they reached the space between the tables. One voice began a clear, rising phrase and the others joined it. Sleeves swept through the air as ribbons lifted from their wrists, separating into bright fragments which became butterflies above their heads.

Hermione leaned towards me while applause swallowed the last note. ‘Was that part of a spell?’ she asked, still watching the coloured wings.

‘If it was, they rehearsed the singing better than we rehearse ours.’ I followed a butterfly over Ravenclaw, where Luna held out a finger. It hovered above her hand and vanished before landing; she looked across at me and displayed her empty palm.

Madame Maxime passed beneath the remaining butterflies. She was remarkably tall, moving with an ease which made the aisle seem designed for her, and Dumbledore stepped down to greet her. She offered her hand; he bowed over it with a courtesy which would have fitted a far grander reception than ours.

Harry drew my attention to Hagrid. He had stopped adjusting his sleeves, and the broad smile which appeared when Dumbledore introduced him to Madame Maxime remained throughout her answer. Hagrid bowed rather more deeply than he seemed to intend, straightened and gestured towards the windows.

‘The horses?’ I guessed. Hermione listened for a moment, then confirmed that he was offering to look after them. Madame Maxime’s answering smile made Hagrid stand a little taller.

Ron grinned at me. ‘That’s going well,’ he said as Hagrid moved aside to let her pass.

‘He started with something he knows.’ I thought of Harry and the Chocolate Frogs, but kept the comparison to myself. Hagrid appeared to be managing without our advice.

An older girl waited beside Madame Maxime while the others looked for places. Her silver hair caught the candlelight when she turned, and I noticed an oddly insistent urge to keep looking. I let my gaze move away, aware that half the Hall seemed to be staring and that we must look thoroughly peculiar from her side of the room.

Dean murmured something appreciative to Seamus. Seamus considered the girl for another moment before leaning towards me.

‘What do you reckon my chances are?’ he asked. ‘Of getting to know her, I mean.’

‘They’d improve if you said hello.’ He gave me a look which requested more useful assistance. ‘Perhaps save the exploding demonstration for a later meeting.’

Dean laughed, and Seamus shoved my shoulder. Beyond him Ron was suggesting that the girl might become Beauxbatons’ champion, which drew Hermione’s attention away from the last vanishing butterflies.

‘We haven’t seen her do any magic yet,’ she said. She glanced towards the older girl again as Madame Maxime spoke to her.

‘She’s with the Headmistress,’ Ron replied. ‘Like you would be if McGonagall brought us somewhere. Answering questions and making sure we didn’t disgrace her.’

Hermione looked back at him. ‘I’d hope you could manage some of that yourselves,’ she said, though a small smile remained when she turned towards her plate.

I asked whether Beauxbatons was a girls’ school. Hermione had read accounts which included male students, but did not know how they had selected this visiting group. Before I could ask anything else, Dumbledore returned to the front and announced our friends from Durmstrang, led by Headmaster Igor Karkaroff.

A staff struck stone outside the doors. Another answered, and the students entered in heavy uniforms, bringing the rhythm with them. Sparks jumped from the floor at each strike; the sound travelled up through the bench beneath me.

They spread into two lines. One student swung his staff in a wide arc while another stepped through the space it opened, and a ribbon of fire sprang between them. I leaned forward as the flame lifted clear of the floor and unfolded into wings.

A phoenix wheeled above the aisle. Light moved across the upturned faces before it dipped towards Dumbledore, bowed its burning head and broke into sparks which died before touching the tables. I joined the applause at once.

‘I’d like to know how they hold that shape,’ I said. Hermione nodded, following the last sparks, while I watched the students lower their staffs. I wanted to ask whether all of them had been needed for the phoenix, or only for the entrance which came before it.

Karkaroff followed his students, tall and thin, with a neatly pointed goatee and a broad smile directed at Dumbledore. The boy beside him needed no introduction; Ron gripped the bench before I had fully turned to look.

‘It’s Krum,’ he said. Harry leaned past me, and Ron repeated the name as though we might have mistaken him. ‘Viktor Krum. Here.’

On the ground Krum looked different from the figure I had watched cutting across the stadium sky. His shoulders were slightly rounded, his expression closed, and he glanced towards the applauding tables before lowering his eyes. Ron showed no sign of taking the hint, if it was one.

Dumbledore embraced Karkaroff and invited the visitors to sit. Beauxbatons spread among nearby welcoming places. Durmstrang went together towards Slytherin, where students hurried to make room, and Ron looked personally inconvenienced when Krum settled within reach of Malfoy.

Harry assured him that he would still be able to speak to Krum. Ron had doubts about Malfoy allowing anybody through, so I murmured something about another portcullis. Harry gave me a sideways look and tried not to laugh.

The Tournament had become people sharing our candles and asking for space on our benches. I wanted to know what their classrooms looked like and how their teachers corrected mistakes. The fire phoenix had given me several more questions before I had managed to ask the first ones.

‘How many other schools are there?’ I asked Hermione. ‘Ones besides these three?’

She counted eleven major schools on the international register, then cautioned that this did not include every way people learned magic. Ilvermorny in North America, Castelobruxo in Brazil and Mahoutokoro in Japan were among the names she knew. Beyond a few things she had read, she was careful about what she claimed to understand.

‘I need a better book,’ she admitted. I asked her to find two, just as Harry leaned round me to report that Fred and George were definitely entering the Tournament.

The twins were already talking over one another a few seats away. Ron suggested that their attention had become fixed on the thousand Galleons, and I asked whether he had heard that part too.

‘Of course I heard it,’ he replied, shifting along the bench to let someone pass. ‘If there were a thousand Galleons on the floor, I’d pick them up. I’m less keen on having something try to kill me first.’

After our summer, I could hardly fault him. I was about to ask Hermione another question when Filch appeared at the doors with several people carrying a tall golden case. The conversations nearest the aisle began falling quiet as they brought it towards the front.