As guests, the students from the two visiting Wizarding Schools were given considerable freedom by Dumbledore. Aside from the four Houses' common rooms and dormitories, as well as restricted places like the Forbidden Forest, most areas of Hogwarts were open to them without limitation.
If they wanted, they could even sit in on any professor's class. Choosing which long table to eat at was nothing compared to that.
Though to most young wizards, Fleur Delacour's choice was definitely not a trivial matter...
"Why Slytherin?"
"...The Beauxbatons witches probably don't know the situation."
"Right. If they did, they'd never sit there. It's Slytherin, after all."
"Hold on... that's Malfoy's table."
The moment Fleur Delacour sat down, the dining hall—silent just moments earlier—burst into noise. Raised voices hinting warnings and whispers urging someone to rethink their choice echoed across the Great Hall, and the Slytherin students responded with cold, cutting glances in every direction.
The Durmstrang students seated with Gryffindor paused mid-meal, puzzled, and the Beauxbatons student who had been about to follow Fleur stopped, suddenly unsure.
Among them, Viktor Krum—Durmstrang's representative—turned curiously to the new friend beside him, Harry Potter.
"Alley, what is happening?"
"It's Harry... Never mind. We talk just fine normally, but somehow you can't ever get my name right…" Harry Potter sighed and bit into his pumpkin pie, resigned in the face of Viktor Krum's celebrity glow matching his own.
The earlier question was quickly intercepted by Lee Jordan, the enthusiastic Quidditch fanatic, who jumped in to explain, "It's because that's Slytherin. They're known for producing Death Eaters. Right, you probably don't know what Death Eaters are. They're—"
Lee Jordan's eagerness made Harry's smile freeze a little. He was starting to worry that this new friend of his might get scared off.
But Viktor, as a seasoned professional athlete, was long used to fans like this.
"Actually—"
"Actually, all you need to know is that they're not good people, especially that little Malfoy."
"Mm… Ron mentioned… Viktor?"
But Viktor Krum's reaction wasn't at all what Harry expected.
When Viktor looked toward the Slytherin table, his expression was strangely sharp—almost as if he'd just spotted prey...
...
Slytherin table.
Fleur Delacour's unexpected appearance drew no particular reaction from Draco, who sat across from her. If anything, he was so focused on his book and breakfast that he might not have noticed her arrival at all.
Pansy, on the other hand, sat beside Draco watching the uninvited guest with sharp suspicion...
"A troublesome person, you're right… Granger?"
"Ah… mm…"
"What's wrong? You look strange."
"No, I'm fine. It just felt like something was staring at me. Maybe I'm being too sensitive."
The discomfort came and went quickly.
Unable to identify the source, Hermione frowned and shook her head before turning with Pansy to look at the witch across from them—the one who likely carried Veela blood.
Whether she was long accustomed to such stares or simply didn't notice them, Fleur Delacour ignored everyone entirely and began enjoying the abundant breakfast laid out before her.
A glance at Fleur, a glance at Draco.
Though they neither spoke nor exchanged even the briefest look, this quiet synchronicity was enough to make the surrounding wizards burn with jealousy.
To most of them, sitting close enough to admire Fleur Delacour's beauty was a rare privilege. If they could speak a single word to her—or catch her eye even once—their whole day would be made.
But the lucky one wasn't them…
Compared to the fascinated young wizards around them, Pansy and Hermione—who both felt their territory being invaded—were anything but pleased.
Just because nothing had happened yet didn't mean the situation wasn't serious. The fact that Fleur chose this table already said plenty.
What mattered more was: what if Draco suddenly became interested in studying Veela?
The thought made Pansy and Hermione glance at each other quietly, as if coming to a silent agreement…
Just as a few bold wizards—just as confident as Draco—were preparing to approach Fleur Delacour and strike up a conversation, Dumbledore appeared at the teachers' table with the heads of the two visiting schools before they even had the chance.
It was worth noting that walking beside Madame Maxime made Dumbledore look rather like a tiny dwarf…
Once everyone had taken their seats, Dumbledore smiled warmly at the gathered students. "The moment has finally arrived! Yes, the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. But before that, I'd like to say a few words and bring in the box…"
Box?
The young wizards immediately fixated on the mention of the box, their eyes sweeping over Dumbledore as if hoping to spot where he was hiding it.
"Bring in what?"
"Is it finally starting?"
"I've been waiting forever!"
It wasn't until Alastor Moody's magical eye began to swivel and Dumbledore spoke again that the excited students finally calmed down.
"First, allow me to introduce two guests, since some of you may not recognize them. This is Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation!"
The scattered applause confirmed that few knew who he was, though Crouch himself didn't seem to mind.
Still, the tired look on his face caught Draco's attention.
Was it because the previous incident had damaged Britain's standing in the wizarding world, resulting in an overwhelming increase in workload?
"And this is Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports!"
Clap, clap, clap!
This round of applause was far louder—unsurprising, since he had hosted the Quidditch World Cup, making him much more familiar to the young wizards.
"In the past several months, Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman have worked tirelessly to prepare the Triwizard Tournament. They will join me, Headmaster Karkaroff, and Headmaster Maxime as members of the judging panel, evaluating the efforts of the champions!"
Champions.
The word alone set every young wizard's heart ablaze.
Only those chosen as Champions were worthy to represent their school...