Harry Potter & The Thousand Mysteries

The Delegations Arrive

‘Do you think they’ll use the same methods of transport they did last year?’ Dean asked Harry, as the Gryffindor fifth years, along with the rest of the school, stood shivering in the icy winter cold. Hermione and Harry were shivering more than most, since they had not had time to run up to the dormitories and grab their cloaks.

‘The ship and flying carriage?’ asked Harry. ‘I think they probably will.’

‘I know. Where has Ron got to?’ asked Hermione, stamping her foot on the step in frustration at the cold. She rubbed her hands over her arms, shivering.

‘It’s bloody cold!’ she said.

‘I know,’ said Neville. ‘I’m perishing over here!’

‘There’s one!’ shouted Fred, from behind them. He pointed at an object, hurting towards them across the sky. At first, Harry assumed it was the Beauxbatons carriage from last year, but as it drew nearer, he saw that it was instead a cluster of smaller ones.

Each carriage was powder blue, but had a shimmering quality to it, which hadn’t been there last year. There was one giant winged horse to a carriage, except the largest carriage, which was pulled by five magnificent stallions with immense wingspans. Lengths of tinsel tethered all the carriages to one another, and Harry noticed garlands hanging around the necks of the horses.

When the Beauxbatons group landed, with astonishing synchronisation, the assembled Hogwartians waited in nervous silence for the delegates to emerge. The door of the main carriage, complete with wreath, opened, and a few stairs were thrust down. Harry waited in anticipation as the huge foot of Madame Maxime emerged, sporting a shiny black high-heel.

‘Allo, Hogwarts!’ she proclaimed, when she finally came entirely into view. As last year, she was bedecked in expensive-looking black robes, with her usual array of glittering opals. The rest of the carriage doors opened, and the Beauxbatons students emerged. Harry recognised some from last year. Fleur emerged from the carriage beside Madame Maxime. She gave Harry a smile and a little wave.

‘Madam Maxime, welcome!’ said Dumbledore loudly, and the Hogwarts assembly burst into applause. Madame Maxime waved her hands graciously.

‘Allo, Allo,’ she called to them all. ‘Ow nice to see you all again!’

She walked into the Entrance Hall, smiling and nodding to everyone as she passed. The Beauxbatons students followed her, looking around eagerly.

‘Allo, ‘Arry,’ whispered Fleur as she passed. ‘I will see you lat-air, I presume.’ She walked off with the rest of her group.

They waited a few minutes, for the Durmstrang students to arrive. As last year, the lake began to quiver, and soon, the eerie, haunting ship had appeared, exactly the same as before.

‘Suppose they couldn’t get a new ship or anything,’ said Seamus disdainfully, surveying the Durmstrang ship. ‘What with losing their headmaster.’

‘Mmm,’ murmured Harry in agreement, as the gangplank was lowered and the students began to parade off.

The Hogwarts students applauded the Durmstrangers as they walked up the grounds, although less enthusiastically than they had done the Beauxbatons ensemble.

‘Doom-bley-door-ey,’ said a deep, Russian-sounding voice, coming from the gentleman dressed in a shaggy white fur cape and top hat. ‘Gut evenink.’

‘Good evening, indeed, Korkolash, and welcome to Hogwarts. May it be your first of many visits as headmaster of your fine school.’

‘Thank you, Doom-bley-door-ey. It is a fine skool indeed.’ The Durmstrang parade entered the Entrance Hall, followed by the Hogwarts students.

***

Once the parties had all taken their places, (The Beauxbatons were sitting at the Ravenclaw table again, and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin), Dumbledore rose to his feet. The excited chatter fell away instantly.

‘Welcome, one and all,’ said Dumbledore, ‘to Hogwarts.

‘Those of you familiar with the customs surrounding the Triwizard Tournament, which took place last year in this very school, will know that the host school, as well as holding a Yule Ball during the Tournament, also holds one the following year, to allow the friendships and connections established last year to be continued and strengthened. As we all know, the Triwizard Tournament’s fundamental aim is to promote unity and friendship outside the school walls and engender an international community of witches and wizards acquainted with the customs and cultures of others fit to rule the world.’ His eyes fell on Hermione, and then on Viktor Krum, his moustache quivering slightly and his eyes once again filled with their radiant twinkle.

‘But I am just an old man with a vision. I cannot hope to live to see my vision come true, but it is my hope, as it is the hope of all members of my generation, that you learn how to live and work together in equality, tolerance, and agreement. Only last year, at the end of the Tournament, Cedric Diggory, one of the finest pupils ever produced from this school, was taken from us because these values were not instilled upon every member of my generation.’

Everyone in the Hall looked slightly shocked- this was the first official mention of Cedric’s passing since the Leaving Feast last term.

‘But let us not get too carried away,’ said Professor Dumbledore, regathering the attention of the congregation instantly. ‘I have but two words for you, which, I hope, will echo throughout the ages…’ The whole Hall held their breath, anticipating the next two words. You could have heard a pin drop- it was almost like the Goblet of Fire ceremony the previous year. Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect. ‘Let’s eat!’

‘Hmph!’ was Professor McGonagall’s response, as the golden platters were instantly filled with food and Professor Dumbledore resumed his seat.

‘She’s back,’ said Dean, looking over at Fleur.

‘Mmm,’ said Ron, dreamily.

‘Ahhhh,’ sighed Harry.

Neville and Seamus both rested their heads on their hands, as the Gryffindor fifth year boys looked across the Hall at Fleur Delacour, the stunningly beautiful Beauxbatons champion.

***

Ron smacked his lips and laid his hands across his belly. ‘That was delish!’ he said, having finished his fourth dessert- a Turkish Delight Ice Cream with amaretto biscuits.

‘You certainly ate enough,’ said Hermione acerbically.

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Ron, and Harry laughed.

‘When’s the next match, Harry?’ asked Ron.

‘Ask Angelina,’ replied Harry, ‘and tell me when you find out.’ Harry winced inwardly- he hadn’t paid much attention to Quidditch this year- Gryffindor had, of course, triumphed over Hufflepuff in their first match, winning 260 to 40. Ron had been told by Angelina to let the Hufflepuffs get the last forty in, to allow them a shred of decency.

‘Arry!’ called Fleur, as she crossed the Hall. Several heads (all male) turned as she passed.

‘Fleur!’ said Harry, squeezing up so Fleur could sit down beside him. ‘How have you been? How’s Gabrielle?’ Gabrielle was Fleur’s younger sister whom Harry had saved from the merpeople in the lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament last year.

‘Gabrielle eez asking after you vairy much,’ said Fleur, raising her eyebrows. Harry tried not to blush. ‘As for moi,’ she said, holding up her hand. Harry noticed a large cluster of diamonds set in a gold ring on her finger.

‘You’re engaged?’ he asked. ‘Congratulations!’ He pulled her into a hug. Looking over her shoulder, he could see a lot of Gryffindor boy’s looking at him enviously

‘Oui, c’est vrai,’ she said. ‘Ee is called Jacques deRiennet- EE is a paintair in Paris, where we live. You must viseet uz sometime!’ she added, smiling. Her smile revealed a set of perfect, pearly teeth.

‘So, how ‘ave you been zees year?’ she asked. ‘With Cedreec dead and eev-reeything?’

Harry was taken aback. Fleur was the first person to ask him up front about Cedric.

‘It’s been hard,’ said Harry. He wanted to say he was fine, but felt it would sound too callous. In addition, it wasn’t true.

‘You cannot blam yourself, ‘Arry,’ said Fleur, her soft, blue eyes piercing into him. ‘You must not!’ She banged her hand on the table. ‘Oooh! I will kill zat Voldey-mortey when I get ‘im! ‘Ow can EE do zuch a zing! Eet is zo wrong! Zat Bastard!’

Harry looked at her- she wasn’t so beautiful anymore. Instead, she looked fierce, sharp and determined. She composed herself, and looked back at him. ‘Look at me, getting zo angree,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders in a very French way. ‘Eet does nothing for my complexion.’

Madame Maxime stood up at the top table, and Fleur immediately rose to her feet.

‘I will be speaking to you before ze Ball, Harry, will I not?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he replied, looking dazed,

‘Excellent!’ she proclaimed. ‘Adieu!’ She walked across the Hall. Once more, eyes followed her as she crossed the room.

Harry turned back to Ron.

‘She is spectacular,’ he said simply.

‘Where’s Hermione?’ asked Harry, choosing not to take up Ron’s topic of conversation.

‘With Vicky,’ spat Ron. Harry turned to see Viktor Krum, looking avidly at Hermione as if deeply interested in what she was saying.

‘He seems to like her,’ said Harry, treading carefully.

‘Rubbish,’ sputtered Ron. ‘He either wants in her pants, or some other fiendish scheme. You can just tell he’s bad news- he goes to Durmstrang, for god’s sake. How much more obvious can you get?’

‘Mmm,’ said Harry. He was used to keeping his answers and his views neutral. He thought of Fleur, and her vehement opposition to Voldemort. That thought made him feel lighter, somehow. To think Voldemort had that much anger forced upon him by one person meant that he could never win any battles.

‘And now,’ said Dumbledore, rising to his feet as the golden dishes cleared, ‘now, we go to bed! Good night!’

Harry and Ron made their way out into the Entrance Hall, where they met Hermione, just after she had said goodbye to Krum.

‘How’s lover boy?’ asked Ron.

‘He’s very well, thank you, which is more than I can say for you.’

‘Potter!’ called Professor McGonagall’s whip like voice across the Entrance Hall.

Harry returned down the marble staircase, passing once more through the Angelwood arch, giving him a double-whammy of good cheer.

‘Professor Dumbledore wants to see you,’ she said, simply. ‘He’s holding a reception in the staff quarters for the visiting head teachers, and he wants to see you before it gets underway.’

‘Thanks,’ said Harry, and walked into the Entrance Hall, which held only Professors Dumbledore, Janney, and Madame Maxime and Korkolash.

‘Harry!’ said Dumbledore. ‘Fantabulous! Just a quick word if you please.’ He led Harry over a spot out of the other teachers’ range of hearing, before talking in hushed voices.

‘Harry, there’s a train leaving Hogsmeade for London tomorrow at eleven fifteen. Take that down to London- you should arrive in Kings Cross by ten o’clock that night. There will be a Ministry car waiting to take you to the Grand Baumberg Hotel. The Counsel will be meeting the next day, at ten o’clock at night, and will probably spill over into Christmas Day. Nonetheless, we’ll have you’ll be back at Hogwarts for the Ball, never fear!’

‘Why do I have to go so early?’ asked Harry.

‘They’ll want to give you a tour of the Ministry, I think, and there’s a briefing for you an hour beforehand. Also, it means you can go to Hermione’s reception.’

‘Oh, you know about that,’ said Harry, relieved. ‘Ron and Hermione are going to go down with me, if that’s okay?’

‘Of course, of course. I’ll see you in London, Harry. If you’ll excuse me…’ he walked back over to the other teachers.

***

Harry made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower happily that night, having received his third dosage of good cheer from the Angelwood arch in five minutes.

‘Hello there!’ he said brightly to Hermione and Ron, as he entered the Common room. ‘Dinner was beautiful, don’t you think. The house elves really have outdone themselves.’

‘I told Ron about the Counsel,’ said Hermione. ‘

‘Good,’ said Harry. ‘I meant to tell you, but I couldn’t in front of all those people.’

‘Sure, sure,’ said Ron, waving his hands. ‘When are we going?’

‘Tomorrow. The train leaves Hogsmeade at quarter past eleven. We’re staying in the Grand Baumberg Hotel.

‘Brilliant,’ said Hermione. ‘Remember and bring your dress robes for the reception. It begins at seven and ends at nine forty five.’

‘Who’ll be there?’ asked Harry.

‘Lupin, Rita Skeeter, Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Janney, Flitwick, Lockhart, Moody, Ron’s parent’s, my mum and dad, us three, Fudge, publishing staff, bookshop clerks, and a few other people.’

‘That many?’ asked Harry. ‘I thought it was only a few people.’

‘So did I!’ said Hermione, rolling her eyes. ‘But everyone’s making a huge fuss about it. I wish they wouldn’t!’

They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at the merrily dancing flames in the fireplace.

‘I better head for bed,’ said Harry, standing up. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘See you,’ called Hermione.

‘Bye,’ said Ron, and Harry trudged upstairs to his bed, or, as he preferred to call it, his sanctuary.

***

‘Welcome aboard the Newcastle to Amsterdam Ferry,’ the captain’s voice called out across the tannoy system. ‘The time is eleven fourteen, and we’re due to arrive in Amsterdam at nine fifty tomorrow morning. All reports indicate clam waters ahead, so settle in for a good night’s sleep, folks.’

‘The lifebelts are located on the B Deck, and others in the C Deck. Thank you, and have a pleasant journey.’ The people who had just boarded the ship meandered along the decks, had a drink at the Seafarers Watering Hole Bar on the A Deck, or retreated to their cabins, to wait for their arrival in Amsterdam. Everything seemed fine as the passengers and crew settled down for a calm, relaxing night.

‘Captain Greenshaw?’ asked Tracey, the attendant at the front office. ‘We just received a communication from the Met Office, sir, and it seems there’s some pretty thick fog up ahead.’

‘Thanks, Tracey,’ said Eddie Greenshaw, as he continued to steer the ship. ‘Let me know if we get any more messages. Could you get me a cup of tea?’

‘Certainly, sir,’ said Tracey, and left the captains room.

About forty minutes into the journey, the fog set in, enveloping the boat completely. Many passengers who were still awake watched, as the bars outside the windows, less than a foot away, were obscured completely in the stuffy, grey miasma.

At about two o’clock in the morning, exactly half way into the journey, the ship began to tremble violently.

‘Come in, Base Control, Come in,’ called the Captain frantically into the radio equipment, but he could get no reply. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked his co-captain, as they both struggled to keep control of the helm.

Suddenly, the ship was illuminated in a bright green light.

‘Mummy!’ cried two year old Fiona Redhurst, as she clung to her mother, ‘I’m scared!’

The door to the captain’s room swung open, and three figures in cloaks stood in the doorframe. They had their hoods up over their faces.

‘Who are you?’ demanded Eddie. ‘Speak up at once. Reveal your identity…’

Eddie Greenshaw slumped into a pile on the floor, dead.

***

When 79-year-old Mrs. Doris McFey, a widow from Aberdeen, appeared on the deck the next morning, ready to disembark. She knew nothing of the events of the previous night.

‘Hello,’ she said to one of the cloaked figures. ‘Are we nearly in Amsterdam?’

‘No,’ came the gruff reply. Doris couldn’t see the person’s face, but she was sure it was a man. ‘Will you pass this message on for me?’ he asked.

‘Certainly,’ said Doris enthusiastically. ‘Happy to help! Who do I pass it on to?’

‘You’ll know who,’ the mysterious figure replied. ‘Just tell them ships can’t sink if they find themselves at the bottom of the ocean.’

‘Okay, then,’ said Doris, as the man turned around. ‘I’ll just write that down here…’ she opened her beige hand bag and fussed around inside. ‘I have a pen somewhere,’ she said. ‘Ah! Here we are,’ she looked up, holding the pen, but the man had gone. Doris walked over to a seat by the window, and looked out.

‘Oh! Oh heavens!’ she cried, as a large fish swam past. Stretching out before the ship was the sea bed, teeming with fish. ‘Oh! What’s happened?’ asked Doris, to no one.

‘Harry!’ called Ron. ‘Harry! Wake up! We’ve got to hurry!’

Harry woke up, drenched in sweat. ‘I just had the weirdest dream imaginable,’ he said, pulling himself out of bed.

‘Great,’ called Ron, as he thrust dress robes into his trunk. ‘Tell us about it on the train. You need to get ready.’