Chapter 58
The group followed Gray and Rachel deeper into the witches' lair. They found the rift, surrounded by an array of strange voodoo objects and artifacts. "They were trying to draw power from the rift," Rachel noted, inspecting the scene. Gray's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Hmm, might come in handy," he said, collecting everything in sight, sweeping up even the smallest trinkets. The others watched in disbelief as he emptied the lair of its treasures. Finally, Gray and Rachel stepped into the rift, vanishing without a word, leaving the rest to process what they had just witnessed.
-scene change-
The train rattled slightly, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to look up from their seats. They had all grown a bit older, though just by a year, and the sudden jolt of the train brought back unpleasant memories. "It's not another Dementor, is it?" Ron asked nervously, glancing around. "No, Sirius is gone, so they shouldn't be here," Hermione replied calmly. Just then, a familiar voice echoed down the aisle. "Anything from the trolley? Anything from the trolley?" The trolley lady appeared at their door, peering in. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked warmly.
Ron perked up. "Packet of drewbals and a liquorice wand," he said, reaching into his pockets, but his face fell when he realized he didn't have enough money. "On second thought, just the drewbals," he muttered. Harry intervened, "It's alright, I'll get it," but Ron quickly insisted, "Just the drewbals, thanks." Before the exchange could continue, Cho Chang approached the trolley. "Two pumpkin pasties, please," she said with a polite smile. She and Harry exchanged a brief glance, a smile passing between them. "Thank you," Cho said as the trolley lady handed over the pasties. "Anything sweet for you, dear?" she asked Harry. "Oh no, thank you, I'm not hungry," Harry replied. Meanwhile, Hermione was deep in thought. "This is horrible," she began, her voice tinged with frustration. "How can the Ministry not know who conjured it? Isn't there any security or–"
Ron cut her off, his tone grim. "Loads, according to Dad. That's what worried them so much. Happened right under their noses." Hermione's sharp eyes flicked to Harry, noticing him rubbing his scar absentmindedly. "It's hurting again, isn't it? Your scar," she said softly. Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," he insisted. Hermione didn't seem convinced. "You know Sirius will want to hear about this—what you saw at the World Cup, and the dream." Harry nodded and pulled out a letter, marking "Sirius Black" on the envelope before handing it to an owl, which flew off into the sky.
That was when someone approached their compartment—Gray, who now wore his Hogwarts robe, adjusting it as he stepped in. Like always, the trio looked at him, not recognizing him for a moment before Ron finally spoke, "I still think you're a magic lizard that can shapeshift but has to molt every year." Gray chuckled lightly and replied, "Now wouldn't that be interesting," as he took a seat. "How was your holiday? You're practically a celebrity now," Hermione asked, adjusting her seat. Harry chimed in, "It must be overwhelming, all that attention," and Ron asked, "Is it true that the potions you sell at Hogwarts are better than the ones made outside?" "Yes, yes, and oh, nothing interesting—saw some weird creatures and a falling star," Gray replied to each of them, pausing briefly.
"Now that I think about it, why haven't those Merlin fanatics made a move yet?" Gray muttered to himself. He had returned to the wizarding world three days ago and had spent those days collecting ingredients and some gold from Gringotts. In the meantime, he had expected an attack from the Merlin fanatics, but there had been no assassination attempts—nothing. "Weird," he thought as murmurs reached his ears. He turned to the trio, who were awkwardly looking at him, before glancing toward the entrance of the compartment, where several students were gathered. "It's Gray Knight!" "I love you, Gray Knight!" "Are you taking muscle-enhancing potions?" Jamal asked the last question, making Gray wave his hand to shut the door with wandless magic. "Bloody hell, Gray," Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Non-verbal magic, how? This is advanced magic," Hermione added, giving Gray another headache.
-scene change-
At Hogwarts, the excitement was palpable. Four enormous flying horses pulled a carriage through the air, landing with precision as the crowd erupted into cheers. "Clear the runway!" Hagrid called out, his voice booming over the noise. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the sight. "Well, there's something you don't see every day," he remarked. Moments later, a massive ship emerged from the depths of the Black Lake, water cascading off its sides as it approached the castle. The spectacle set the stage for something extraordinary.
The storm raged fiercely over the silhouette of Hogwarts as Madame Maxime stepped out of her carriage, her towering figure illuminated by lightning. "Professor Dumbledore, my horses have traveled a long way. They will need attending to," she declared. Dumbledore, standing calmly despite the weather, replied, "Not to worry, Madame Maxime. Our gamekeeper, Hagrid, is more than capable of seeing to them." Maxime's brow furrowed. "But you know, Monsieur Hagrid, they drink only single malt whiskey." At that moment, the man sitting next to Hagrid yelped loudly. Hagrid, without realizing, had stabbed his fork into the man's hand. "You idiot!" the man exclaimed, clutching his hand in pain.
Inside the Great Hall, Dumbledore rose to address the students. "Now that we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," he began, his voice calm but commanding. "This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen–" His sentence was interrupted as a man hobbled up the aisle comically, whispering something in his ear before limping away just as oddly. Dumbledore continued seamlessly, "Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: the Triwizard Tournament." A murmur spread through the crowd, while Gray was sitting between two female students who were utterly focused on him. In fact, his entire side of the long chair was filled with females, while the opposite side had all boys and Hermione. "He is so dreamy," one of the girls said, and they all sighed, some barely controlling themselves from touching Gray.
"For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single contestant is selected to compete. Let me be clear—if chosen, you stand alone. And trust me, these contests are not for the faint-hearted. But more on that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime." The Beauxbatons students entered in graceful formation, their flowing blue robes shimmering as they danced up the aisle, releasing butterflies that fluttered into the air. The hall erupted into applause. "Blimey, that's one big woman. Gray, you've got a match," Jamal said aloud, making Gray look up from his notebook on the Time-Turner, which he had been working on since returning to the wizarding world. Gray stared at the towering Madame Maxime for a second before thinking, Although I do like tall girls, she isn't the best I've seen.
The Beauxbatons students were all staring at Gray as well. Meanwhile, some Hogwarts students grumbled, "They must think the makeup in our school is better, so they came to poach him." Another retorted sarcastically, "Are you mad at them or praising them?" Ignoring the situation, Dumbledore continued, "And now, our friends from the north. Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff." The Durmstrang boys marched in, spinning bo staffs with practiced ease, slamming them into the ground to produce sparks. The hall buzzed with excitement as Ron nudged Harry. "Blimey, it's him—Viktor Krum!" The boys concluded their performance by breathing fire into the air. Karkaroff approached Dumbledore, greeting him warmly. "Albus!" he exclaimed. "Igor," Dumbledore replied, embracing him like an old friend.