French girls were bold in their romance. Even before a crowd of thousands, Fleur held nothing back in expressing her longing for Wayne.
Yet she also knew restraint. This wasn't the place for prolonged affection, so after a few brief words, she led a pouting Gabrielle back to the Beauxbatons contingent.
More boys caught sight of the sisters' stunning beauty, and a single thought united them:
Lawrence... you utter bastard!
Fleur ignored the stares, simply holding Gabrielle's hand as they retreated to the rear of the formation. In some ways, she and Cassandra were alike—utterly indifferent to the opinions of onlookers.
Noticing her sister's lingering sulk, Fleur patiently coaxed, "Wayne has important matters to attend to now. How about I take you to see him tomorrow?"
"Really?" Gabrielle's eyes sparkled.
"Why would I lie?" Fleur poked the little girl's chubby cheek with her slender, pale finger, feigning exasperation.
Gabrielle chirped eagerly, "Then can sister stay behind? I'll keep Wayne company all by myself~"
Fleur: "..."
You ungrateful little brat!
Meanwhile, Hermione and Cho's expressions had turned stony.
They finally understood what Wayne had meant when he'd asked, "Which Delacour?"
He was aiming to have them both!
Astoria was practically orbiting her sister in agitation.
Disaster! A competitor had appeared!
She knew Wayne's preferences all too well.
White/silver hair. Adorable.
These two qualities were her greatest assets for being favoured, yet Gabrielle possessed both of them along with the advantage of youth!
Suddenly, the rich young girl felt a surge of insecurity!
...
While the girls harboured various thoughts, Wayne remained completely unaware. He had originally intended to return to the formation, but the Headmasters held him back to discuss tournament-related matters in hushed tones.
As the contributor of the trophy and a key figure in initiating the Holy Grail War, Wayne would also serve as a referee for the tournament.
However, he wouldn't have scoring authority, merely overseeing whether contestants violated rules during the competition – essentially acting as an enforcement referee.
Mid-discussion, disagreements arose among the Headmasters regarding certain spell permissions.
Fontaine expressed dissatisfaction with Dumbledore's numerous restrictions: "Dark Magic is also an expression of capability. I see no reason to prohibit it entirely, provided proper boundaries are observed."
"Aigilbert, this would send students the wrong message," Dumbledore patiently countered. "They might misinterpret it as our endorsement of Dark Magic, leading them down the path of power-seeking."
Fontaine argued vehemently: "There should be reasonable limits. We can ban excessively malevolent Dark Magic, but a blanket prohibition seems overly biased. What say you, Professor Zaka?"
Zaka flashed his gleaming white teeth: "Apologies, but I cannot answer that definitively. Our definition of Dark Magic in Africa differs from yours. Still, I lean towards prohibition to prevent potential dangers."
"Let's not forget the Triwizard Tournament was discontinued precisely due to excessive casualties."
Uagadou students excelled in close combat after Transfiguration – banning Dark Magic would actually benefit them.
Lacking support, Fontaine momentarily deflated before turning to Katerina.
"I agree with Professor Fontaine," Katerina nodded at him. "Our Students never discriminate based on a power's nature, and I won't restrict their choices either."
Madame Maxime hesitated slightly: "I'm amenable to either approach."
With two votes for, two against, and one abstention, no consensus emerged, leaving the matter for later deliberation when all parties were present.
Growing impatient, Madame Maxime complained: "Have they no concept of punctuality? They're already half an hour late."
Dumbledore remained unflappable, soothing gently: "They should arrive shortly."
Five minutes after his reassurance, the tranquil Black Lake suddenly rippled, emitting loud, peculiar sounds.
Disturbance erupted at the lake's centre as enormous splashes formed two massive whirlpools. Two masts emerged gradually, followed by imposing hulls.
Noticeable commotion spread through the formations as spectators stared unblinkingly at the two vessels. The first resembled a recently salvaged wreck – tattered and ghostly in its eeriness.
The second appeared more refined and compact, its entire structure resembling carved white jade that emitted a faint luminescence under moonlight.
Both ships approached the shore, soon dropping anchor and extending planks as numerous figures disembarked.
Leading them were two middle-aged men – one clad in a fur cloak, the other in a black suit.
"Dumbledore!" the man in the fur-trimmed cloak called warmly as he ascended the slope. "My dear old fellow, how are you?"
"Splendid, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.
Karkaroff smiled and nodded, then greeted the other Headmasters. At that moment, the man in the suit approached Dumbledore, bowed deeply, and spoke with a distinctly Japanese-laced accent:
"Most sincere apologies! Professor Dumbledore, we encountered a tsunami while crossing the Pacific, which delayed us somewhat."
"Please don't stand on ceremony, Professor Koga," Dumbledore quickly helped him up, asking with concern, "Was the ship damaged? Are the students alright?"
Koga's dedication to craftsmanship flared up again as he bowed once more. "Everything's intact, thank you for your concern!"
The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but he still helped him up.
You're always bowing, fine, but you're also short. Every time I help you up, I have to bend down too. Couldn't you show some consideration for an old man?
"Viktor, come here, warm yourself up... You don't mind, do you, Dumbledore? Viktor's caught a bit of a cold."
Karkaroff gestured somewhat boastfully for one of his students to step forward—a boy with a hooked nose and sullen features.
No introduction was needed. Everyone had already recognised that figure.
The hottest star of the summer, dominating newspaper front pages for months, though he'd been dethroned by someone after the match, it was enough to make him unforgettable.
"Oh my God! It's Krum—it's really him!"
"He's a Durmstrang student? Such an amazing Seeker hasn't graduated yet?"
"Where's my quill, my notebook, I need his autograph!"
The crowd erupted in waves of excitement. The boys were even more thrilled than when they'd glimpsed Fleur's face earlier, while the girls shrieked. Karkaroff's smile grew increasingly smug.
Dumbledore maintained his polite smile. "The English weather is rather dreadful, but a cold isn't serious." He glanced at Wayne, who was observing the Mahoutokoro contingent.
"Mr Lawrence, I presume you have some cold remedy potions on you?"
"Of course." Wayne rummaged through a pouch and produced two green vials, handing them over.
"One bottle clears the mind, two bottles cure the ailment. But remember to pay."
Karkaroff's smile froze.
He'd only called Krum over to show off—the boy didn't actually have a cold.
Suddenly, he recalled the name Dumbledore had just used and asked uncertainly, "This is..."
"Ah, my fault for not introducing you." Dumbledore took Wayne's arm.
"Mr Lawrence, the most outstanding student Hogwarts has ever produced—in a certain sense, he might be considered our 'colleague'."
Wayne also extended his hand with a smile. "Professor Karkaroff, hello. Just call me Lawrence. Or if you prefer, you can use my nickname."
"What nickname?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "I wasn't aware you had one."
The young man gave a bashful smile. "Friends in certain circles flatter me by calling me the Death Eater Killer. Only killed a handful, really—I don't deserve the title."
The atmosphere instantly chilled.
Karkaroff's legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground.
Wayne feigned surprise, withdrawing his outstretched hand to make a token gesture of assistance.
"Professor Karkaroff, we've only just met—no need for such formalities, surely?"
"Only proper... No—I mean, the journey's left me exhausted," Karkaroff scrambled to his feet, already babbling incoherently.
"Dumbledore, it's too cold out here—let's head inside." He hastily seized on the excuse.
"Then let us proceed," Dumbledore said without further ado, leading the way.
Madame Maxime discreetly gave Wayne a thumbs-up before following behind.
She, too, couldn't comprehend how Karkaroff had become Headmaster of Durmstrang.
As Britain's 'good neighbours' across the Channel, the French were well acquainted with the turmoil their counterparts had endured. Karkaroff was nothing but a tainted witness who'd bought his freedom by betraying numerous companions.
Terrified of retaliation from Death Eaters still at large, he'd fled to northern Europe – only to climb the ranks and become Durmstrang's Headmaster.
As Wayne ascended the stone steps, he suddenly felt compelled to write Grindelwald a letter. He wondered what the old man would make of this situation.
...
The Great Hall was finally filled to capacity, all ten long tables occupied.
The sea of two thousand young wizards undeniably constituted a grand occasion.
The badgers were most delighted – since their guests' arrival, the castle's meals had improved daily.
However, Dumbledore had urged everyone to dine swiftly tonight, as more pressing matters awaited. Thus, dinner concluded within half an hour.
Throughout the meal, countless eyes kept drifting towards the Beauxbatons table. Fleur's mesmerising allure had even the girls regarding her with hostility – particularly several demonic-looking students who nearly bent their forks in jealousy.
When silence returned to the hall, Dumbledore nodded to Professor McGonagall, who promptly exited and reappeared carrying the Sorting Hat and a three-legged stool – clearly prepared in advance.
Dumbledore rose.
"Welcome, students and professors from around the world. Your presence honours Hogwarts."
Hogwarts students initiated the applause, soon joined by polite counterparts from other schools.
As the clapping subsided, Dumbledore continued, "The selection for the Triwizard Tournament will commence this weekend, spanning two days. At the Halloween feast, we shall choose the seven most suitable champions."
"What exactly are the criteria?" Ron muttered. "How can they determine who's best in just two days?"
"If you can think of that, don't you suppose the professors have?" Hermione snapped, her mood foul. "Dumbledore's surely considered everything."
"Why take it out on me?" Ron whined. "Just because Wayne found another girlfriend way prettier than you? You should be used to that by now."
Farewell, brave warrior.
Harry regarded Ron with admiration, committing his friend's image to eternal memory.
Hermione trembled with rage, swearing she'd grow two more buck teeth before ever lending Ron homework again.
Dumbledore continued, "To ensure academic continuity across schools while allowing everyone to experience Hogwarts traditions, I've arranged a special Sorting ceremony."
"This coming year, you'll study alongside our four houses according to your Sorting. Now, let us begin!"
Students from all six schools showed great interest in this, especially those from Ilvermorny. Aware that many of their own school's systems were modelled after Hogwarts, they were particularly excited to experience the authentic Sorting Ceremony.
The only discomfort came from the Sorting Hat's appearance...
Several girls kept glancing at Wayne.
Professor McGonagall had already begun calling names. Due to the large number of students awaiting sorting, she had instructed the Sorting Hat in advance not to overthink decisions but to go with its first instinct.
As a result, the sorting proceeded at remarkable speed – each student took barely fifteen seconds.
Sakura whispered to Tomoyo, "Do you think we'll get sorted into Hufflepuff?"
"Unlikely..." Tomoyo pondered. "With your personality, Gryffindor would suit you better. As for me, perhaps Ravenclaw."
"Though we might both end up in Slytherin, given how much they value bloodline."
Wayne had previously explained the defining traits of each house to them.
Sakura found Tomoyo's reasoning sound, but still felt somewhat reluctant. "Not necessarily. Even Wayne got sorted into Hufflepuff – that hat must have its senile moments."
Tomoyo stifled a giggle. "You'd be in trouble if Wayne heard that."
Sakura clung to the young lady's arm, pleading. "Then don't tell him!"
"That depends on your behaviour."
...
About twenty minutes later, the Ilvermorny student queue neared its end.
Cassandra was second to last. When her turn came, she mentally cursed the hat's creator before reluctantly placing it on her head.
"Hey, little girl, what do you know? This is art! That Lawrence lad has far better taste than you. Hmm? You actually want Hufflepuff? Why? You're a born Slytherin!"
Cassandra's attention was instantly seized. "You're saying Wayne remodelled you into this... thing?"
"Exactly! Lawrence and I are practically brothers. Let me see... Ah, I understand now."
"Since you want to find him, the final decision is..."
The Sorting Hat bellowed: "SLYTHERIN!"