The girl who understood

chapter 3

chapter 3
please

Usually, every evening, when the Great Hall was filled with students, its bewitched ceiling would resemble the night sky outside, except that beneath the bright stars there was a layer of hundreds of candles, all lit up to illuminate the happenings of the evening. This time, something unexpected happened.

Professor Albus Dumbledore was in the process of explaining to us how this year Hogwarts would host a special event, the Triwizard Tournament. The castle was to give shelter not only to the students of Hogwarts, but to those of two other wizarding schools. They hadn't arrived, yet, when the ceiling above our heads errupted in thunder storms. Raindrops started dripping down from the sky, most of them evaporating just above the crowds, who were screaming and shifting irrationally.

And then, as fast as the storm had started, it passed. A large, paranoid looking man came limping out of the little door through which the teachers of Hogwarts would usually enter the Great Hall. All eyes were on him. His face looked horrifying. Only one of his eyes was real. The other was held on his face by a strip of leather, that was wrapped around his head. The false eye was moving frantically about, until it fixated on one particular spot in the crowds.

I followed the stranger's gaze to see Harry Potter growing pale and I shared his discomfort from afar. 'That's Mad-Eye-Moody!', I heard one of the second-years around me whisper to his friends. They all gasped in awe. 'His name is Alastor Moody, Illias!', a little girl corrected him. Her glasses seemed a little too big for her tiny nose. Her light blue eyes were piercing right through the boy, that was now looking at her with a mocking look on his face. I forced myself not to smile, but the situation did cheer me up for a moment.

'Please welcome, the lovely Ladies of Beauxbatons and their headmistress, Madame Maxime!', Dumbledore's voice led me to turn towards the gates of the Great Hall. The second they had opened a worryingly light atmosphere filled the place. About twenty beautiful french girls, all of them about three or four years older than me, came dancing into the room, accompanied by the tiniest butterflies I had ever seen. They were all dressed in pale blue gowns, that made them seem like fairies. With every step they took the light around them grew brighter. As soon as they sat down, it was all over.

The headmistress, Madame Maxime, was about twice as tall as the tallest one of her students. Dumbledore had to throw his head back his neck to grant her a kiss on the back of her hand, bidding her welcome in the castle. Next he introduced to us the 'strong boys of Durmstrang and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff'.

Their entry radiated an uncomfortable type of heat. All of their faces were drawn with distaste. They seemed to painfully avoid making eye contact with any of the people around them, as they walked ahead right towards Albus Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwarts' staff, who were waiting patiently for their guests. Behind about twenty Bulgarian boys, who I estimated at the same age as the Beauxbatons girls, Viktor Krum was being followed suit by the headmaster of Durmstrang.

He made no different impression on me than he had done the night of the quidditch match. He was strutting forward wearing a reserved impression on his dull face. He was examining the crowds around him earnestly. His gaze wandered over the Ravenclaw table but linguered over me for just a split second. Nobody but me noticed the eye contact he certainly had not anticipated.

Professor Dumbledore greeted the Bulgarian headmaster and his students with open arms, but the hug he and Igor Karkaroff shared seemed painfully unpleasant. The presence of the man with the dark grey beard, that looked like it hadn't been tended to in years, made me suddenly aware of the fact that the castle was now home to plenty of strangers, whose intentions would remain a mystery to most of us for the rest of the year.