The sticky, fishy stench!
"Bloody hell! Hagrid, what on earth is this thing?"
"Blast-Ended Skrewts, oh~ Stalys, I had no idea you'd become a professor at Durmstrang! I mean, I'm a professor now too—Care of Magical Creatures."
Hagrid squeezed his little black eyes at Lys and ushered both of them into his small hut.
"So this is your brother then? He doesn't look much like you did as a child... I mean, when you were at school you were tall and skinny, gloomy all the time. Your brother's quite cheerful, looks sturdy too—look at those muscles on his arms... just a bit on the short side."
"Have some water, Lys. Your voice is dreadfully hoarse."
Hagrid brought out two enormous cups and poured tea for his guests.
Friedm stared in amazement at the cup that reached nearly to his thigh, whilst watching his sister produce a lizard-skin pouch.
"I baked these at home. They're a bit old, but I cast a preservation charm—should taste just the same."
"Oh, marvellous! After all these years, I still remember that crispy texture. Haven't had any since you graduated—the house-elves won't let me near their kitchens."
Friedm tentatively accepted a biscuit from the enormous fellow called Hagrid. How had he never tried Lys's biscuits like these before?
CRUNCH!
Silently setting down the biscuit, Friedm lifted his cup with tears welling in his eyes and gulped down some tea.
When Lys suggested looking at the forest animals, Hagrid mysteriously intervened: "You know, according to regulations, we've got to keep it secret. There are already preparations inside for the upcoming competition."
Lys sighed at Hagrid's expression that practically screamed 'ask me, ask me':
"What is it, Hagrid?"
Hagrid puffed out his chest and winked at Lys:
"Top secret."
...
Friedm marvelled at the disabled manticore that Lys had summoned with two taps of her wand:
"Lys, you could heal such massive magical creatures when you were only in third year!"
Lys shook her head. "Not really. I nearly cooked its bones through. I hadn't the foggiest idea how to treat animals then—just giving myself and a dying creature a fighting chance."
But Friedm still gazed in wonder as he embraced the manticore's leg, stroking it continuously.
Eventually, Friedm fell asleep clutching the manticore's hind leg at the forest's edge. Lys had to relocate her tent to Hagrid's back garden, but the fishy reek and explosive sounds from the Blast-Ended Skrewts forced her to move the tent back to the forest edge during the night.
The next morning, Lys awoke to find Friedm curled against the manticore's belly and roused him.
There was still Durmstrang's registration ceremony this morning. As headmaster, Igor did absolutely nothing except fuss over Krum, so Lys felt she ought to make at least a token appearance.
Moreover, the Durmstrang students would be studying and exchanging with Slytherin, and Lys still needed to resolve their language and material difficulties.
Just thinking about it gave her a splitting headache.
Sitting at the Slytherin table eating fried eggs and drinking milk, Lys watched Krum lead the students with remarkable efficiency, resolving most issues and queuing orderly to cast their registration slips into the Goblet of Fire.
She couldn't help but sigh: "Thank Merlin for Krum—otherwise I'd be worked to death."
Igor Karkaroff only appeared at important occasions, spending the remainder of his time holed up in the ship.
Lys was acutely aware her identity was sensitive, so apart from her tent and Hagrid's hut, she only visited the Great Hall.
Standing by the lake, she watched Friedm riding an ancient Comet Two Sixty, cautiously trailing Draco on his pristine Nimbus Two Thousand and One.
His tentative manner resembled a fly with clipped wings. Lys borrowed another owl that was enjoying its meal from Hagrid and ordered a broomstick from Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley.
The Durmstrang students and French Beauxbatons pupils arrived at Hogwarts on October 30th, with unified registration on the morning of the 31st.
That evening would bring the Halloween feast alongside the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament champions.
Before the feast commenced, seven owls battled through light drizzle, delivering a lengthy package that landed before Friedm.
Lys's hoarse voice carried a note of complaint: "You're late."
The lead owl seemed inclined to nuzzle Lys, but Crunch's emerging head sent it fleeing.
Friedm rubbed his hands together, glanced at Lys, then carefully peeled away the packaging around the broomstick handle. The golden serial number clearly read: Firebolt 0012x.
Friedm gripped the partially unwrapped broomstick in his left hand and his purple-adorned wand with tiny yellow flowers in his right, excitedly babbling to Draco:
"Blimey! A Firebolt! Lys finally doesn't have to worry about me snapping my neck and legs!"
Since Friedm spoke in English, half the table erupted in laughter.
The Halloween feast proved sumptuous as always. Lys ate with genuine appreciation—she'd felt poorly last night, and her cold had dulled her taste buds, leaving her with only the memory that the French cuisine hadn't been particularly palatable.
Only when everyone grew restless, desperately eager to discover who'd been selected as their school's champion, did Dumbledore rise. The British Ministry of Magic hosting this competition had dispatched Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch from the Department of International Magical Cooperation as official witnesses.
Lys's gaze locked onto Barty Crouch—former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the most uncompromising opponent of the Dark Lord...
His son had supposedly perished in Azkaban, yet... had appeared before Lys in a neurotic state several months prior.
Lys glanced away. So this was the true reason behind his transfer to the Department of International Magical Cooperation?
Some manner of quid pro quo?
Following brief remarks from the three headmasters and two Ministry officials, Dumbledore waved his wand to dim the Great Hall's illumination.
Lys repositioned Crunch, then rested her arm against Friedm's shoulder to observe the hall's most brilliant focal point—the Goblet of Fire.
Those blue-white flames danced and sparked, tantalising everyone present.
When the first slip bearing a name erupted from flames that had turned crimson, Lys extracted three butter-soft sweets from her robes, exploiting the darkness to slip one into her mouth whilst stuffing one each into Friedm and Draco's mouths.
"Durmstrang: Viktor Krum!"
Thunderous applause and cheers swept through the hall. Lys patted Krum's shoulder, chewing her sweet as she informed him he was now a champion and should proceed to the chamber behind the staff table to await further instruction.
The subsequent champions were Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons—Lys suspected her heritage might be... questionable—and Cedric Diggory from Hogwarts, an undeniably handsome young man.
Just as Dumbledore began addressing the three schools' champions with encouragement, Lys produced an Acid Pop and pressed it into Friedm's mouth.
"In a moment we can go..." Lys's words to Friedm abruptly ceased.
The entire hall had fallen into inexplicable silence.
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