Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

Today is October 30th, and we're waiting for the arrival of delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Still, our house is the most united. The upperclassmen take care of the younger students, and if someone gets cold, they cast warming charms. As a result, Hufflepuff stands and waits calmly, while the rest stand and shiver. It's not customary to help other houses with such matters. Their prefects also know all the spells, but if they don't consider it necessary, what can you do? To interfere with such initiative would even be provocative.

Ah, people know how to make an impression!

A huge but elegant carriage, beautiful horses probably as tall as elephants - yes, you can't just ride around on those casually.

A large but beautiful woman, the type of sultry Spanish woman - Olympe Maxime, her students, who look like exotic butterflies in their silk outfits.

When Durmstrang's ship surfaced, it immediately reminded me of the Flying Dutchman. A grim, mystical sight. And the guys are all handpicked - tall, broad, marching in formation, precisely marking time. When Krum was discovered among the Durmstrang students, the greeters completely lost their heads and climbed over each other for autographs. For God's sake, he'll be here for the entire tournament.

The guests occupied the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, while we sit at our Hufflepuff table in comfort and peace, enjoying dinner.

While the other unreasonable students are busy staring at the guests, I'm not wasting time - they won't feed us like this every day, and the guests will be with us until the end of the year. So bouillabaisse, salade niçoise, parfait, sturgeon, pancakes, meat pies... Whew, I'm about to burst! I pat my considerably rounded belly. Too bad I can't take anything with me. Tomorrow they won't give us all this. While I was eating, the Goblet of Fire was solemnly brought into the hall. Those wishing will have a week to throw their name into it. And Harry shouldn't be among them; the only Crouch who briefly visited Hogwarts was Crouch Sr.

The next day at lunch, Professor McGonagall approached me. She asked if I could work as a translator at the Slytherin table for lunches and dinners for a couple of weeks, as well as conduct an orientation tour of the castle. Well, "work" - as always, on a volunteer basis. The language barrier greatly hindered getting closer to the guests, although officially - the tournament was invented precisely for getting closer to foreign wizards. Therefore, a translator is a reasonable solution.

"Alright," I easily agree, this will even be interesting, "but, Professor McGonagall, many Slytherins don't like wizards of my background. Won't there be problems?"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, the problems will be for whoever dares to express their dislike publicly."

Fresh fairy tale, Professor. But trying doesn't hurt.

"Very well, ma'am, I agree."

I got up and went with the Deputy Headmistress to the Slytherin table, where I was introduced as a translator.

"Granger," Malfoy shouted to me, "sit here."

He points to a place next to himself and Viktor Krum. Does he think he's the smartest? You're in for disappointment, Draco, Viktor isn't Russian at all. Russians and Bulgarians can always communicate with gestures, but for free conversation, it's better to use English. True, the Durmstrang delegation doesn't have great English.

But no, here Draco turned out to be smarter than me. I periodically forget that it's the 90s now and Russian was studied in Bulgarian schools until recently. Viktor speaks excellent Russian, but it seems he's not happy to talk at all - Malfoy and other Quidditch fans have already annoyed him.

Other Russian-speaking Durmstrang students were much happier about the translator. Polyakov particularly stood out, who just wanted to make noise and chat.

I spent quite a lot of time with the guests. McCatagall said we have nothing to hide at Hogwarts, so I calmly took them to the most popular places in the school, invited them to admire the sunset from the Astronomy Tower, briefly told them about the curriculum. Karkaroff didn't share McGonagall's point of view, and when the guys invited me to the ship, he relentlessly followed like a shadow and hindered the spread of information as much as he could: "Come now, let's not tire the young lady with unnecessary details," "Polyakov, what are you talking about, you fool, you'll be scrubbing the galley until the end of the year," and "Instead of the engine room, better show Miss Granger the upper deck, the view is much nicer from there" - yes, especially considering that now it's a view of Hogwarts. At least I learned that they have an engine room in principle, and the ship doesn't move only on magic and sails.

After a week, Krum and I reacted to his fans synchronously: he frowned, and I rolled my eyes. The thing is, now the fans, especially the female fans, wanted me to translate their passionate confessions to Krum.

I wrote in large letters on a sheet:

"How to ask V. Krum for an autograph:

Viktor, mozhno mne avtograf?

How to ask to be photographed with V. Krum:

Viktor, mozhno s toboj sfotografirovat'sya?

How to thank V. Krum for an autograph or photo:

Spasibo!

Please do not bother the translator with these questions"

And hung it in the Great Hall.

Viktor saw my creation and was offended: "Hermione, why don't you like me so much?" I had to explain that I like him, of course, but I like myself more.

After all, I was asked to help with translation only for the Durmstrang delegation, not the entire population of Hogwarts.

Foreign students the very next day after the goblet was placed on the pedestal approached in disciplined groups and took turns throwing in their names. Hogwarts students approached one by one, sometimes secretly, sometimes making a show of it. Alastor Moody on the map still remained Moody. And I didn't notice any suspicious individuals near the goblet. Therefore, I dare to hope there will be only three champions in the tournament, and I'll root for Cedric.

***

And here's the exciting moment of determining the champions.

Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory! The Hufflepuff table rejoices! The other houses also welcome our champion; Cedric didn't openly conflict with anyone and established himself as a good guy. In terms of popular support, Cedric was much luckier than the foreign champions. They came with small teams where everyone was competing with each other, which is logical - there's no point in bringing simple fans along.

The champions are asked to go to the back room, the Great Hall is filled with joyful excitement, and then another piece of paper flies out of the goblet. Dumbledore catches it and reads:

"Harry Potter."

Oh damn! How did this happen? Which bastard did this? Or maybe Dumbledore himself, who knows.

Harry is asked to join the other champions, and he walks on stiff legs to the same room behind the teachers' table.

"What, Granger? Let Potter off the leash for a week to run around independently, and he's already distinguished himself?" Malfoy hisses in my ear. Yes, I'm still sitting at the Slytherin table for dinners.

"Do you really think Potter is so good at charms that he managed to overcome Dumbledore's protection?"

Malfoy shrugged indefinitely.

The Durmstrang students pulled me from all sides; Karkaroff had left with the other headmasters and champions, and they wanted to know what was happening. Alas, I had to admit that I didn't understand anything myself, but this was definitely not according to plan.

In the Hufflepuff common room, they threw a party. When people calmed down a bit, Cedric asked me:

"Hermione, you're friends with Potter. Tell me, what do you think about all this?"

"Cedric, I sincerely hope that you win and that Harry survives. You - you, Viktor, Fleur - are adult skilled wizards, the goblet chose you as the best of the best. I'm scared for you too, but not as much. But Harry will have plenty of opportunities to turn into mincemeat in this tournament."

"Why did he submit an application then?"

"You clearly overestimate Harry," I smiled, "He's not that skilled a wizard. Think about it yourself - he not only overcame Dumbledore's protection, he also deceived an ancient artifact and made the goblet think there are four schools, not three. Sorry, but even you couldn't do that, and you're an excellent student and a seventh-year."

"Then how did Potter's name end up there?"

"I think someone can't rest easy with the title of The Boy Who Lived. They wanted to set Harry up big time, or maybe even kill him if they're lucky."

The Hufflepuffs thought about it. They probably didn't believe me right away, but their confidence in Harry's guilt diminished. However, Potter was quickly forgotten, and the celebration continued.

Yesterday I celebrated with everyone and, it seems, had too much butterbeer, so I wasn't up for smart thoughts, but today the first thing I did in the morning was write to Sirius and Rita. She's due to give birth in a couple of months, but she feels fine and plans to cover the tournament events for as long as she can.

***

Sirius rushed to Hogwarts to make a scandal, but other than letting off steam, there were no other results. Rita went into free flight and proudly carried her belly through the corridors, seeking gossip, opinions, scandalous details. Ron didn't believe Harry and now, all proud and offended, doesn't talk to him. So Harry now either follows me around like a sad tail, or sits with Hagrid. He can't follow me around often because I'm still a translator for Durmstrang. And at Hagrid's there are Blast-Ended Skrewts - nowhere for the poor hero to settle.

Malfoy and Potter clashed here too over "Potter Stinks!" badges, and a spell ricocheted into me. Oh damn! I cover my teeth with my hands and quickly head to the hospital wing under Parkinson's joyful squeals. I'm supposedly twice as mature as this girl and shouldn't react sharply, but sometimes she starts to annoy me as if I'm also a teenager. Following me comes: "Hey, Granger, I didn't mean to..."

Snape intercepted Potter and Malfoy. As I later learned, penalty points and detentions fell only to Potter's lot. Well, who would doubt it.

***

I don't know what happened at the wand weighing, but Rita's article that came out the next day made Harry furious.

Mrs. Black described the three legitimate champions as adult accomplished wizards, emphasized Krum's strength and his abilities in combat magic, Cedric's talent for transfiguration and his excellent studies, mentioned that while Fleur doesn't always achieve first results in classical disciplines, she possesses unique veela magic that other wizards don't have access to.

Against their background, Harry looked like a miserable defenseless child who, due to the organizers' negligence and someone's malicious intrigues, was dragged into this deadly game. After this article, people began to sympathize with Potter, while Harry himself was angry that Rita made him into a snotty kid who needed to be protected from all troubles. Even in the photographs, the other champions looked like young and serious people, while Harry looked like a disheveled sparrow. Potter wrote to Black that he's no longer talking to his wife. And that Sirius is also to blame because he allowed her to publish this. As if Sirius could have forbidden her, naive boy. And in general, Rita is quite close to the truth, if you omit the flowery metaphors.