0507 The Banquet
The arrival of the Durmstrang delegation was just as spectacular and awe-inspiring as that of Beauxbatons, though in an entirely different way. The autumn evening air was crisp and clear, with a brilliant full moon casting its silvery light across the dark waters of the Black Lake.
"How on earth did that ship get here?" Neville exclaimed in utter amazement, as an enormous and magnificent ship emerged from the depths of the Black Lake. Illuminated by the moonlight, it appeared almost ethereal, like a ghost ship from maritime legends.
The polished wooden flanks gleamed wetly, while dozens of portholes cast warm, golden light across the rippling surface of the lake.
"The Black Lake isn't connected to any ocean! It's completely landlocked!"
Hermione stood beside him with her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Her fingers absently twirled a strand of her bushy brown hair as she contemplated.
"They surely didn't sail here through conventional means," She pondered thoughtfully, her eyes following the water still streaming from the ship's ropes. "I guess the ship must have some sort of dimensional compression charm, allowing it to change size at will, combined with a specialized form of magical transportation that allows it to materialize in any sufficient body of water within a particular distance."
"Cool!" Seamus exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm. He drew in a sharp breath of admiration as the ship's massive anchor splashed into the dark waters with a tremendous crash, sending ripples across the previously mirror-smooth surface of the lake.
The Durmstrang students began disembarking from their ship with military meticulousness. Through the softly glowing portholes, Harry and his fellow Hogwarts students could see their silhouettes moving around. As they emerged onto the deck, their body frames were imposing and somewhat intimidating.
Harry's initial impression was that they all had the same hulking build as Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's dumb bodyguards. However, as the delegation made their way across the sloping lawn, illuminated by the welcoming light spilling from Hogwarts' great oak doors, Harry realized their bulky frame was mostly due to their distinctive clothing.
Each Durmstrang student was wrapped in thick, heavy cloaks made of some kind of rough, matted fur that appeared both warm and somewhat wild in nature. The material looked rough and primitive compared to the sleek, silver furs worn by their headmaster, who led the group with confident steps toward the castle.
"Ah, Dumbledore!" The man called out with exaggerated warmth, his voice carrying clearly across the grounds. His accent was thick but accurate, each word carefully pronounced as he approached the steps where Dumbledore waited. "It's been far too long, hasn't it? I trust you're well?"?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied with genuine warmth, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles as he gave a welcoming smile.
Karkaroff's voice maintained its honeyed tone, though there was something artificial about his warmth that Harry couldn't help but notice.
Though he matched Dumbledore in height and slenderness, the similarities ended there. Where Dumbledore radiated genuine warmth and kindness, Karkaroff seemed to dress his facial features in a carefully constructed mask. As he gazed up at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, his thin lips curved into what appeared to be a pensive smile, but his eyes remained as cold and calculating as chips of ice, showing no real emotion.
As Karkaroff began to lower his head, to inquire if Beauxbatons had arrived even though the massive powder-blue carriage bearing the Beauxbatons crest and its magnificent twelve-winged Abraxan horses were clearly visible nearby.
As he looked away, he finally noticed a figure who had quietly emerged from behind Dumbledore. The man had been standing there all along, watching the proceedings with an inconspicuous smile, but Karkaroff had been too preoccupied with his grand entrance to notice this while climbing the slope.
"Ah, Professor Watson!" Karkaroff's face split into a wide grin that revealed his yellowing teeth. "I was just wondering why I hadn't caught sight of you!"
His voice carried a note of calculated pleasure, like a merchant discovering an unexpected opportunity as he asked, "How have you been?"
"Just idling away the time, Professor Karkaroff—" Bryan responded with characteristic modesty, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that showed he knew exactly what was coming next.
The feast that appeared before them today was truly extraordinary. The house-elves had outdone themselves, preparing an international meal that showcased not only traditional British wizarding palate but also French cuisine and Eastern European dishes.
Golden platters creaked under the weight of exotic delicacies and familiar comfort foods, while crystal goblets filled themselves with various beverages ranging from pumpkin juice to fine French wines (for the staff only, of course).
However, few students could truly focus on the delicious food. Most of their attention was on the visiting students from the two schools, while those like Cedric Diggory, who aspired to become Hogwarts champion, were eagerly anticipating the announcement of the champion selection process.
The appearance of the Ministry representatives halfway through the feast created yet another ripple of interest through the Hall.
"Phew—"
Ludo Bagman arrived looking somewhat disheveled, his round face flushed from apparent fatigue. After exchanging hurried greetings with Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, he leaned in close to Dumbledore, speaking in what he probably thought was a discreet whisper.
"Barty expressed some concerns," Ludo explained between heavy breaths, "so he's personally accompanying the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on their inspection."
"Sounds exactly like Barty—" Bryan commented with a knowing chuckle, his eyes meeting Bagman's for a brief moment. Ludo quickly averted his gaze, showing an almost painful reluctance to maintain eye contact with Bryan.
The sharp pain that suddenly shot through Ron's shin finally managed to break the spell that had held him captive. "Ouch!" he yelped, shooting an angry glare at Hermione while rubbing his injured leg. "Have you gone completely mental again?"
"When you finally manage to tear your eyes away from her—" Hermione replied without a shred of sympathy, "Perhaps you'll notice who's just arrived!"
"What?" Ron's irritation gave way to confusion, but Harry's subtle head nod toward the staff table finally directed his attention to where Ludo Bagman sat, his robes were slightly crooked but his smile was as bright as ever.
"Oh, it's Bagman!" Ron's entire demeanor transformed instantly from annoyed to excited. He turned to Harry with renewed vigor, his previous grievances forgotten. "It's Bagman, Harry! We should go ask to him about the situation!"
To be honest, Harry didn't want to spend more energy on this matter, but he knew how much it meant to Ron, and he understood the significance of several hundred Galleons to him. As Harry hesitated, Ron looked troubled again. His gaze returned to Bagman, who was now toasting with others at the staff table, and said hesitantly,
"Maybe this isn't the best moment, Harry, I mean, Bagman's here for the Triwizard Tournament opening ceremony. We should probably wait for a more appropriate time."
Before Harry could respond, Hermione's exasperated sigh cut through the air. Ron, seemingly eager to avoid another confrontation with her, quickly turned his attention to his brothers, Fred and George, who had been watching the discussion with unusual intensity.
"What about you two? Are you planning to confront Bagman about it? You lost quite a bit of money too!"
"Just let us catch him alone," Fred said with grim determination.
"We're definitely not letting him wriggle out of this one!" George added with equal resolve, completing his twin's thought as they often did.
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