v. a grand arrival

ϟ

Early the next morning, Matilda woke to get ready for her day. She was the first to wake in her dorm. She got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, hoping that the skirt she picked out to match her pale blue shirt, was the color purple and not just a dark blue. She left the dormitory but before walking out of the door, Matilda grabbed the envelope from her side table and went back down into the deserted common room. Only two people lingered in the fire-lit room. Bentley Morgenstern laid back in the bay window reading a tediously long book and one other person sitting in the far corner playing themselves at wizard's chess. 

Matilda didn't bother to speak to either student. As she was in a bit of a hurry. She let herself out of the large double doors, into the silent castle, only to be held up by Peeves who tried to overturn a large vase on her halfway to her destination. He laughed as she dodged the falling water, remembering her slip n' slide incident from the first back at the castle. She finally arrived at Dumbledore's office, located on the Headmaster's Tower. 

The tower is guarded by a large and ugly stone gargoyle who rarely talks but is capable of doing so. Matilda said the password that had been using since first year and rolled her eyes when she realized Dumbledore had yet to change his entrance password from any of the previous years.

Dumbledore's office itself is a large circular room with many windows and many portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses. Armando Dippet's portrait was the largest in the room and hung behind Dumbledore's desk. There was no portrait of Albus Dumbledore in the room, for he still resided as Head of Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat stayed in the headmaster's office. Sitting on a pedestal, receiving all the praise it believes it should have for having never been wrong. 

"Matilda, great to finally see you,"

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking at mounds of parchment, looking quite disheveled. Matilda made her way to the center of the room where their usual tea-time table was set up and decorated in cakes and teas. 

"Yes, it is," Matilda agreed. "I've been so busy I feared I'd have to miss today's tea."

"Well, I am delighted you could make it," Dumbledore rose from behind his large, wooden desk. "How has your time back been?"

Matilda sighed pouring herself a cup of hot tea. 

"Already quite eventful," she told him. "I am interested to meet the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang." 

Matilda sipped from the tea. The heat slightly scalding the roof of her mouth. 

"Interested," Dumbledore chuckled. "What interests you?" 

"I'm interested to see the type of conflicts it will bring to Hogwarts," Matilda told Dumbledore truthfully. 

Dumbledore nodded. He too was interested to see how the atmosphere here at the school might change when inviting new schools into the castle doors. He anticipated some animosity between the three schools. But rivalry may be the best thing to bring the students at Hogwarts together. 

"I must ask," said Matilda, putting her teacup down onto the plate. "Why start the tournament back up? Why bring something back that is incredibly dangerous?"

"Are you worried?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Not at all. I'm not a contender. And if I was, I wouldn't be worried – I would win." 

Dumbledore hummed as he poured himself a small cup of tea. As he did so Matilda found herself wanting to question Albus about his decision in bringing in Moody, and why on earth he would sign on him teaching fourth years the unforgivable curses. But she bit her tongue. She knew that he already had enough on his plate and she really did not want to question Albus Dumbledore, the man she looked up to and admired most in the world. 

Matilda did not question Dumbledore on any further issues, she knew she'd have the entire year to do that. Instead, today, she and him enjoyed their tea making small talk about Matilda's classes and how their summer away from Hogwarts went.

"That was a lie, Harry," said Hermione just as Matilda sat down beside Ron for breakfast. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"Why are we surprised that Harry is lying about his scar?" Matilda questioned. "He lies about it not hurting him all of the time."

"I don't want Sirius going back to Azkaban because of me," Harry argued. 

Matilda furrowed her eyebrows. 

"Your ego needs to be deflated if you truly believe that you're the only thing here that could bring Sirius back," said Matilda, taking a bite of strawberry.

Harry first looked at Matilda confused, then his eyes suddenly widened as horror flashed across his eyes. 

"What – why would you say that?" Harry stammered nervously. "I mean w—why else would Sirius come back?"

"Well Remus is still hiding around in caves nearby, is he not?" Matilda said, her eyebrow quirked.

Harry's shoulders visibly relaxed and a look of relief shaded over his horror-stricken eyes. 

"Oh, yes," he sighed, visibly relieved. "I assume he is."

ϟ 

Matilda effortlessly went about her classes and duties over the next couple of weeks. She did not bother herself to worry about the Triwizard Tournament and did best not to involve herself in any discussion about it. Most of Matilda's classmates were boasting about the idea of sharing the castle with two other wizarding schools, some didn't know existed. Matilda was not too excited about the coming houseguests. To her, the school was crowded enough. They did not need the beauty and elegance that the Beauxbatons embodied and she certainly wasn't looking forward to the loud boys of Durmstrung strutting through their corridors. For Matilda already had to deflate the ego of Draco Malfoy on an almost everyday basis, she did not need an entire school of Draco's to tear down. She was just too busy. 

Matilda had more important matters to worry about than trying to be welcoming of their future guests. She had been writing back and forth to her father about the odd assignments that Alastor Moody had been assigning in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But her father would only tell her that Alastor Moody was an odd guy and so his teachings were likely to be odd as well. 

But the situation only worsened. To Matilda's surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects. 

"We're not lab rats, Professor," said Matilda angrily as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You don't get to just test unforgivable curses on us." 

"And, you said it was illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly. "You said to use it against another human was —"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way — when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely — fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. Everyone knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Matilda rolled her eyes, becoming annoyed. His first response, when challenged, was to snap on the person and tell them to leave. Matilda loved to debate and argue and what Moody did was neither. She and Hermione had tested him, and Matilda noticed that he had become insecure, which is why he snapped on them. 

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched as, one by one, her classmates did the most extraordinary and ridiculous things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Winters," Moody growled, "you next."

Matilda with confidence moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Matilda, and said, "Imperio!"

The first sensation was the most wonderful feeling. For a moment Matilda felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, she stood there feeling immensely relaxed, then her mind became dimly aware of what was happening. She then realized none of what she was feeling was real.

And then she heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her coming brain: sing me a lullaby. . . sing me a lullaby. . . 

Matilda furrowed her eyebrows. She didn't want to sing a lullaby to Professor Moody. 

Sing me a lullaby...

Why would I want to sing a lullaby? A strong voice in the back of her head had awoken.

He wants you to look like a fool. Don't listen to him. 

Winters, sing me a lullaby. . .

"No, I don't think I will," said Matilda, quite easily being able to resist the urge to sing a lullaby. 

Moody's eyes widened and the entire classroom gasped. She had been the first in the room to prove stronger than the Imperious Curse, and quite quickly at that. 

No one knew what to say. Not even Moody. For an entire twenty seconds, the room was quiet. Then, Moody pointed to Harry and called him up next. 

"Don't let your thoughts go, they'll help you resist," 

Matilda, on her way back to stand with the rest of the class, stopped Harry by grabbing his wrist. She wanted to warn him. To help him outsmart Moody and the curse. 

Harry nodded and moved to the center of the classroom. 

"Imperio!" 

Moody had pointed his wand at Harry and suddenly his head went back, and a smile crept onto his face. He was feeling the effects of the curse. The feeling of being without any burden and free. Matilda chewed nervously on her thumbnail as she listened to Professor Moody's first command.

"Jump onto the desk." 

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to take the command and spring onto the desk.

"Jump onto the desk," Moody tried again. His voice slow and quiet. 

Harry's smile contorted. Something had happened.

"Jump onto the desk." 

A proud grin began to creep onto Matilda's lips as she watched Harry start to resist the urge. She could tell that he was listening to a voice in his head. Same as her. And the voice was keeping him from succumbing to the curse. 

"Jump! Now!" Moody yelled this time and tightened his grip on the wand.

Matilda flinched as she watched Harry jump while at the same time try to prevent himself from jumping. The result was him smashing headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and almost break both kneecaps.

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron from beside her. 

Matilda felt disappointed that Moody had outdone Harry. But she was still proud of her friend, nonetheless. She knew Harry was nowhere near the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had managed to resist the Imperious Curse for longer than any of his housemates.

"Look at that you lot. Winters fought! She fought and beat an Unforgiveable Curse," Moody said, looking disappointedly at the rest of the class. "Potter fought! He fought hard, and he damn near beat it!"

The class gave a small round of applause even while glaring at Matilda and Harry.

"We'll try it again, Potter, and for those here that couldn't beat it, pay attention – watch his eyes, that's where you see it," said Moody. "Very good, the both of you, they'll have trouble controlling you!"

ϟ 

Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four more times in a row until Harry could throw off the curse entirely. Leaving him and Matilda to be the only two in the classroom to have successfully resisted the Imperius Curse completely. 

"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later, "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had much more difficulty with the curse than his three friends, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid..." Ron glanced over his shoulder to check that Moody was out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"

"You don't read up on resisting the Imperius Curse," said Matilda. "It's a test will and character. You either have it or you don't. It isn't something that can be learned, but it can be practiced and perfected." 

"Still doesn't change how much work we have to do," whined Ron. 

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering the most important phase of your magical education!" She told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Padma Patil indignantly.

"Maybe not, Patil, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Winters remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Patil, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Matilda sat up straight and looked immensely pleased with herself. 

Matilda had also been deeply amused when Professor Trelawney told her that she had been improving greatly in her class. Truthfully, Matilda had only been telling Professor Trelawney what she wanted to hear. 

Meanwhile, Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book. . . I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors and Matilda roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Matilda, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits: seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the four, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and

Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock

on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will

end half an hour early —

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

Students will return their bags and books

to their dormitories and assemble in front

of the castle to greet our guests before

the Welcoming Feast.

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him. . ."

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," sighed Matilda. "He must be entering the tournament."

This did not please Matilda because if he entered and was chosen as the Hogwarts' Champion, Harper, Matilda's older sister who has been crushing on Cedric Diggory since she met the boy, would never stop gushing over him.

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student — and he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

"You don't remember Lockhart then," said Matilda, poking fun at Hermione.

Ron laughed, agreeing with Matilda.

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Matilda went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Matilda noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

After that lesson, Matilda had promised to help Neville with the Switching Spell. 

When Matilda went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, she found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived into the Great Hall they beckoned for Matilda to sit with them. So, she said a quick goodbye to her Ravenclaw friends and made her way to the Gryffindor table where she found herself sitting at more often than her own House. 

They sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

Matilda chuckled but quickly covered it up by bringing her glass of milk to her lips. 

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"I agree," said Matilda. "My sister is always trying to ask about what I've been up to as if it is any of her business."

Ron's eyes widened as Matilda and George shared a laugh as they made fun of their nosey siblings. 

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Easy," shrugged Matilda. "The Goblet chooses who it believes to be the best student from each school." 

Fred nudged George and told him that next time they'd just go to Matilda instead of trying to convince a Professor to give them the information they need to cheat themselves somewhere. 

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before. . ."

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"I could do it," said Matilda with no expression in her tone. 

"And what makes you so sure?" George challenged.

Matilda looked up from her plate, her expression bored. 

"I'm the brightest and most talented wizard I know."

Her confidence only made Fred and George respect the girl their youngest brother never stops talking about even more.

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792 when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"What are you on about?" said Ron, though Harry thought he knew what was coming.

"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

"She's right," Matilda shrugged. "It doesn't."

Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. His and Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves.

True, both of them had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but they had only done it because Matilda had threatened them. Their Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. She had been badgering Harry, Matilda, and Ron ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same. Matilda didn't like the look of the badge and told Hermione that it matched none of her outfits. 

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.

Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to —"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world —"

Matilda chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm sure that argument is valid," Matilda said. "The elves don't know that they're doing slave work - they haven't been told that they could be paid or free to do whatever they please." 

Hermione opened her mouth to add on to Matilda's statement but was cut off by a sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once and saw Hedwig soaring toward him. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she, Matilda, and Ron watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Ron, Matilda, and Hermione.

Nice try, Harry.

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep

me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use

Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just

watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.

-Sirius

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding . . . I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"

"You can borrow Pluto if you like," offered Matilda. "She's very smart and good at being discreet." 

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.

There was a heavy feeling of anticipating in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Matilda would admit that Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When Matilda had gotten up to the Ravenclaw Tower to put her books away, she was almost knocked over by Bentley and Asher Morgenstern who were pulling on their cloaks and rushing downstairs to get to the entrance hall. 

Asher had run back to Matilda to apologize and hand her a quill that had been dropped due to the almost impact. Matilda thanked him before returning to her room to put her books away and get her cloak. Then, she too made her way to the entrance hall but in a more mature and calm fashion. 

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Morgenstern, please put the mirror away," Professor Flitwick pleaded with Claire Morgenstern, who had been starstruck upon learning Viktor Krum would be coming to Hogwarts. "And, Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Padma scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor Flitwick. "First years in front. . . no pushing. . ."

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

Matilda, standing in front of Padma in the fourth row from the front, rolled her eyes as she watched the first years shivering with anticipation. 

"Nearly six," said Padma, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Matilda.

"How, then? broomsticks?" Lisa Turpin suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"Don't be so dense," Matilda rolled her eyes. "They're much too far away to arrive by broomstick."

"A Portkey?" Padma suggested. "Or they could apparate — maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, don't you read – or listen?" said Matilda annoyed.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Matilda was starting to feel cold. She wished they'd hurry up. 

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid. . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey, from the Gryffindor line.

Dennis's guess was closer. As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming into land at a tremendous speed — then, with an almighty crash that made Padma jump back onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery-red eyes.

Matilda just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Matilda saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child's sled — followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman she had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Matilda had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in her life, and that was Hagrid; she doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow — maybe simply because she had gotten so used to Hagrid — this woman seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

Matilda's eyebrows furrowed as she heard Madame Maxime's mispronunciation of Dumbledore's name. 

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Matilda, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Matilda could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses —"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges."

"Skrewts," Matilda muttered to herself with an amused grin.

"My steeds require — er — forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong. . ."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Lisa Turn said, addressing Padma.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Padma. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Lisa hopefully.

"That isn't in the slightest bit funny," sighed Matilda. "Just imagine the lot of them loose on the grounds."

Both, Padma and Lisa shivered at the thought. 

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then —

"Can you hear something?" said Padma suddenly.

"Not with you in my ear every second, I can't," Matilda whisper yelled. 

Matilda listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, loudly from the Gryffindor line and pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. 

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool. . . and then Matilda saw the rigging. . . 

"A mast," said Matilda, a little impressed. 

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Matilda noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle. But then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle, they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Matilda noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good. Viktor, come along, into the warmth – you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Matilda caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. She didn't need the squeeze of the arm Padma gave her, or the hiss in her ear, to recognize that profile.

Padma opened her mouth to tell Matilda of the great and handsome Viktor Krum, but Claire Morgenstern beat her to it —

"Merlin's sake — it's Krum!"

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Matilda's Tea-Time Outfit

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AN:// Sorry it took so long for this chapter.

Not much happening here, more of a mundane chapter.