The grounds fell silent once again, the only sounds being the snorts and hoof-stomps of Beauxbatons' majestic silver horses. Most people were craning their necks toward the sky, shivering slightly in the chilly air.
# Harry: "What kind of school is Durmstrang? Is it similar to Beauxbatons?"
Harry asked.
# Hermione: "Actually, it doesn't have a very good reputation."
Hermione replied:
# Hermione: "According to the European Magical Education Review, this school places a significant emphasis on the Dark Arts. I believe Durmstrang is located far to the north, and their uniforms even include fur cloaks. At least tonight, they're probably the only ones who won't be feeling the cold."
She hugged her arms tightly, shivering against the biting air.
A loud and peculiar noise suddenly drifted toward them from the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, accompanied by the rush of flowing water. Orli immediately turned her gaze toward the Black Lake.
From their vantage point on the slope of the lawn overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the still, dark surface of the lake—until it was no longer still. The water at the center of the lake began to churn violently, sending up massive splashes and waves that crashed against the damp shores. Then, right in the middle of the lake, a large whirlpool appeared, as though an enormous plug had been pulled from the lakebed.
A long, black mast slowly rose from the whirlpool's center, followed by sails. Gradually, a massive ship surfaced, its silhouette reminiscent of a sunken vessel recently dredged up. Its portholes glimmered with dim, misty light, resembling ghostly eyes. The rest of the ship was cloaked in pitch-black shadows. Moments later, they heard a splash as an iron anchor was dropped into the shallow water, followed by a thud as a gangplank was lowered onto the lake's edge.
The passengers aboard the ship began disembarking. None of them were small in stature; they all looked as burly as Crabbe and Goyle. Just as Hermione had described, each of them wore fur cloaks with tangled, matted fur. Leading them toward the castle was a man.
# Karkaroff: "Dumbledore!"
The man called out warmly as he ascended the slope.
# Karkaroff: "My dear old friend, how are you?"
# Dumbledore: "Excellent, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.
Karkaroff was thin, with short white hair and a goatee that failed to conceal his sharp, angular chin. He approached Dumbledore and shook hands with both of his own. Orli sneaked a glance at the former Death Eater through the gaps in the crowd. Despite the smile on his face, his eyes remained cold and piercing as he gazed up at the castle.
# Karkaroff: "It's so good to be here... Viktor, come along and warm yourself... you don't mind, do you, Dumbledore? Viktor's caught a bit of a cold..."
Ron began jabbing Harry's arm vigorously, while Hermione let out a small gasp. The surrounding students started whispering among themselves, but Orli didn't need to listen to their chatter to know who it was—Krum, the famous Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker.
# Ron: "I can't believe it!"
Ron said in a tone of utter astonishment. At this point, the Hogwarts students were following the Durmstrang group up the stone steps.
# Ron: "It's Krum! Viktor Krum!"
# Hermione: "Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron, he's just a Quidditch player."
Hermione said.
# Ron: "Just a Quidditch player?"
Ron stared at her, as if he couldn't believe his ears.
# Ron: "Hermione—he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I can't believe he's still a student!"
They made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat down. The Beauxbatons students chose seats near the Ravenclaw table, while Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had already settled by the Slytherin table. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked smug about this; Orli noticed Malfoy leaning over to talk to Krum.
Ron, who had been staring at Krum with starry eyes, suddenly froze when his gaze accidentally fell upon a Beauxbatons girl. His eyes became fixed, unable to look away.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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