Chapter 127: Making a Familiar Face
Jon had never seen a Hogwarts banquet with such an extravagant spread of dishes, all kinds laid out before them... Several seemed to carry foreign flavors, far beyond the usual fare he was accustomed to in Britain.
After all, guests from afar deserve special treatment—understandable. Starving by now, he unhesitatingly grabbed a slice of black pudding and stuffed it into his mouth... drawing disapproving frowns from several passing Beauxbatons girls.
The Beauxbatons students quickly took seats near the Ravenclaw table. Viktor Krum and his Durmstrang Institute alumni, however, took their places beside the Slytherin table. Once all the students had entered the Great Hall and taken their seats at their respective house tables, the faculty entered, filing past to the head table. Dumbledore delivered a brief speech...
By the time he finished and declared the feast open, Jon had easily polished off half a plate of black pudding and a large steak.
...
After the feast concluded, Barty Crouch, Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, and Ludovic Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, also entered the hall. As two Ministry officials who had made significant contributions to reviving the Triwizard Tournament, they would serve as judges alongside the three Headmasters.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had Filch bring the Goblet of Fire to the head table and announced the rules of the Triwizard Tournament: Three champions, one representing each school, chosen by the Goblet of Fire itself; three challenging tasks, each offering points based on performance; and the champion with the highest cumulative score would claim the Goblet! Registration would remain open for only twenty-four hours, closing tomorrow night—the eve of Halloween... Only wizards aged seventeen or older could enter.
So it seemed he wouldn't get to witness Harry Potter becoming the fourth champion, because tomorrow night was Saturday, and he had to work a night shift in Snape's office. Meanwhile, Jon overheard a group of underage sixth-year students nearby discussing ways to trick the Goblet of Fire...
He yawned, eager to return to the dormitory for sleep.
...
Saturdays, as a rule, saw students arriving late for breakfast. Yet when Jon arrived at the common room early that morning, he found it packed. Many students were gathered around Cedric Diggory, jeering... Cedric held a parchment in his hand, seemingly hesitating about something.
“Um... does anyone know where the Beauxbatons students stayed last night?” Jon called out, then added, “And the Durmstrang ones too...”
“The Durmstrang students returned to their ship to rest, while the Beauxbatons students are in the Ravenclaw Tower... Professor Flitwick specially cleared out an entire floor for them!” someone answered.
“Alright, thanks...” Jon nodded, then quickly exited the common room.
According to Jon's own original plan, this year was crucial... If he could latch onto Madame Maxime's powerful connections, the future would become much simpler. Show off his achievements to her, win her admiration, and then transfer to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic after the semester ended...
Then spend three or four years at Beauxbatons, waiting for the resurrected Voldemort to be defeated by Dumbledore and Harry Potter. After that, he could return to reap the rewards... It was a perfect plan! He could even bring his parents to France, keeping them far from the conflict and out of harm's way.
Therefore... it was quite necessary to familiarize himself with Headmistress Maxime and these future fellow students as soon as possible!
...
On the path between Ravenclaw Tower and the castle, Jon pretended to read a book while waiting for his chance. A few minutes later, led by Madame Maxime, over a dozen Beauxbatons students approached. Jon feigned reading as he walked, slipping through a side corridor.
With a dull thud, he collided head-on with Madame Maxime.
“Zut! (French: Damn!)” Madame Maxime shot him a glare and grumbled.
Jon raised his head and replied in fluent French: “Je suis désolé, Madame. (I'm sorry, ma'am.)”
Madame Maxime paused in surprise: “Vous parlez français? (You speak French?)”
“Oui, ma grand-mère est française. (Yes, my grandmother is French.)” Jon replied.
Of course, this was a complete fabrication... Mr. Eric Hart was a pure-blooded Englishman, with not a drop of French blood in his family for eight generations. But as a student from a non-magical family, he couldn't very well check Jon's household register... so Jon felt perfectly free to make things up. After all, if he wanted to become familiar with the place and eventually transfer here... he'd need to build some connections.
Simultaneously, Jon raised his wand and casually waved it. “Accio!” he called, his voice crisp. The book lying on the floor flew back into his hand.
“Quel âge as-tu? (How old are you?)” Madame Maxime asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Treize ans. (Thirteen years old).” Jon answered honestly.
Madame Maxime couldn't help but give him an approving look... The Summoning Charm was considered a rather tricky spell. At Beauxbatons, many fifth and sixth-year students struggled to master it (Beauxbatons' O.W.L. exams were held at the end of sixth year). For a third-year to perform it so effortlessly was truly outstanding.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries in French, Madame Maxime led the Beauxbatons students away. Several girls watched Jon with curious eyes. Until they parted ways...
It felt like a promising start! Jon left feeling rather pleased with himself.
...
Just a minute after Jon departed, a portrait on the adjacent wall suddenly opened its eyes, then vanished. In the Headmaster's Office, a sharp voice abruptly shattered the silence.
“Dumbledore!”
“What is it, Everard?” Albus Dumbledore looked up, slightly startled. Principal Everard, in the portrait, was panting heavily as he recounted what he had just witnessed.
“What did they say?” Principal Dilys Derwent asked curiously.
“They spoke French... I didn't understand most of it...” Headmaster Évra lowered his head.
“Cowards! Traitors!” From the other side came Headmaster Phineas Black's furious tirade: “The shame of Hogwarts...”
“...Dumbledore, if I were Headmaster...” Headmaster Black ranted incessantly, “...I'd expel him on the spot!”
Dumbledore lifted his head, his expression grave, and shot Phineas Black a cold stare. “Enough, Phineas!”
Headmistress Dilys Derwent had already deftly conjured ribbons and stockings, binding Phineas Black fast.
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