[3rd POV, Great Hall, Gryffindor table, time of the Durmstrang entrance]
Everybody was looking at the blonde witch sauntering away from one of the most infamous Hogwarts students around.
"With all the attention he's getting, you'd think he's a king not a mere lord," Fred joked with his twin brother after they finished celebrating getting his face licked by that Durmstrang witch.
"Bastard is living the high life," George said with a wistful sigh before yelping, almost jumping up from the bench again. "How enviable."
"Need a witch to lick you, do we?" Angelina Johnson, his girlfriend, asked in a threateningly sweet tone of voice from next to him.
"I'd only ever want you to do it, of course," George quickly purred with a disarming smile as he draped an arm over her shoulder to drag her close and choking whatever complaint she would have by acting overly sweet.
"What about you?" Alicia Spinnet asked Fred, her boyfriend, with narrowed eyes.
"Ewww, tongue? Wet saliva from a girl all over me? Yuck! No thanks," Fred waved away theatrically as he copied his brother and pulled his girlfriend closer.
"Really?" Alicia asked, leaning closer to her boyfriend's ear. "Because there was this thing I wanted to try-"
"I'm in!" Fred exclaimed without the need to hear more.
Down the table sitting with his friendgroup, their brother Ron Weasley watched Ekatarina walk off toward the Slytherin table with the Durmstrang students.
"What a bloody git. Everything has to be about him," Ron spat will a roll of his eyes.
"She isn't even that good-looking," Michael Corner added with a pretentious sneer, his eyes following the fur-cloaked witch with full focus.
"I mean, she kinda is. Too bad we can't really see her figure under that cloak," Parvati Patil countered, her gossip-hungry eyes similarly glued to the bold blonde witch from Durmstrang. "Bet she has a killer body, though."
"I saw a moving photograph from when Talion knocked her on her ass at the last tournament. She is hot under that cloak," Lavender confirmed as she leaned closer to her best friend. "Full on warrior goddess build with toned muscles all over."
"Really? Well, don't boys like squishy curves better?" Parvati skeptically inquired with raised brows while looking at Seamus Finnigan, an Irish wizard from their year, who she knew had a crush on her.
The teenager blushed brightly, admitting, "I mean s-some men like a strong woman."
Ron shook his head though, saying absentmindedly, "I want my wife to be soft all over."
"Like your mum?" Lavender asked with a snicker.
"Who'd even want to marry you?" Parvati added, giggling together with her friend.
Ron turned red entirely, giving both witches an embarrassed glare. But he remained quiet, enduring the teasing from his crush.
Well, one of his many crushes.
"Look, Beauxbaton is next," Michael pointed out, effectively changing the subject. "They brought witches only."
"I really like their uniform," Lavender wistfully sighed. "I wish we could wear silk."
"Has my sister shown you the pictures Talion brought from Stati Magia? They get to wear such nice dresses while we run around in this black sack," Parvati indignantly said with a small pout as she gestured toward their black Hogwarts uniform.
"Huh? No, Padma hasn't shown me anything like that!" Lavender exclaimed, joining her friend in pouting. "I'll ask her later."
"Well, you could ask your ex directly–no?" Parvati asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"I mean, yeah," Lavender absentmindedly agreed as her eyes followed the enchanting performance of the Beauxbaton delegation instead of looking at Talion. "So unfair that we didn't get to prepare any sort of show for them…"
"We should ask McGonagall if we can put something together?" Michael proposed 'helpfully', ready to enjoy his cute classmates prance around him like those beauties from France were doing now. "I volunteer as the choreographer."
"You wish," Parvati quietly scoffed with rosy cheeks.
"Hey, hey! What is that blonde next to the headmistress doing?" Ron whisper-shouted as he watched in pure envy how another gorgeous witch broke rank for his nemesis, Talion.
A wealthy lord, talented in almost every aspect of magic, actually good at every role in Quidditch and famous for his record-breaking performances on the pitch in the first two years, an internationally acclaimed dueling prodigy, handsome enough to have many suitors.
Ron Weasley hated that Talion was everything that he apparently was not. And Talion barely even knew he existed. And that, too, mostly because Ron had insulted him early during the first school year, or so the redheaded wizard believed. The two ignored each other's existence most of the time, still.
Michael Corner looked sour, his expression twisting between hate and envy.
All that attention should have been his! All the professors thought he was talented! He was the star seeker of Gryffindor! His father was the right hand of Minister Shacklebolt! His mother was a well-sought-after model and she managed to give him all of her best genes! His grandmother said he was so cute, he should marry half a dozen witches to make sure there were enough Michael Corner babies for everyone to go around!
And yet he only ever got seconds! Or worse, none!
Lavender had agreed to a few dates before their first year ended – until she admitted she had wasted her first kiss on Talion before him! Michael instantly called off the second date when she didn't want to give him any other firsts of hers!
Then, his father had urged him to try and woo Isobel MacDougal because her father was an influential lord in the Wizengamot, their family wealthy and important. But she rejected him! And then she spent a summer traveling abroad to go watch Talion in some stupid duel!
Lisa Turpin became his girlfriend last year, but she was still endlessly talking about Harry Potter, the perfect (ex-)boyfriend. The one that got away! The 'savior' who is definitely a worse seeker than him! Served her right that he cheated on her with Wendy, a Hufflepuff witch from a year above them, and Hilda, a Slytherin witch from a year below them, he thought.
Now, Michael was searching for another girlfriend, not that he called things off with Lisa. He was definitely handsome enough, he could bag anyone with half a brain. Or so he believed as he scanned the visitors from afar for potential targets with a scowl that he didn't even know was on his face.
'Definitely a french hussie,' he inwardly thought as he didn't find anyone he liked among the Durmstrang delegation. Well, Ekatarina was positively gorgeous, but she was also barking up the wrong tree.
— — —
[3rd POV, Great Hall, Slytherin table, time of the Durmstrang entrance]
"Karkaroff is naive if he thinks that Krum whelp can take on the Hogwarts champion," Draco said with a sneer on his face and just loud enough for everyone around him to hear him. "Just because Vlad is the younger brother of that star-seeker? That Vaniye witch has a better chance than him anyway. And even she lost the dueling tournaments each time."
"How'd you know their names?" The large boy, Gregory Goyle, asked from next to him with a near-vacant expression. Vincent Crabbe, a little brighter than his friend, asked, "But wasn't it him who won against her?"
"Karkaroff is an old family friend. My father received the list of the Durmstrang roster and told me who is worth befriending among them," the blonde Malfoy explained with his habitual sneer still going strong, ignoring the pointed, and way too intelligent, question from his second guard.
Of course it was Talion who bested her and they hated him on principle. But there was no need to point that out, was there?
"Isn't Vlad Krum destined to become an apprentice of the Mykew Gregorovitch? He can't be a dullard if he managed to get that position. My mother has a Gregorovitch wand and she swears by it," Milicent Bulstrode mused out loud near the group of boys. It wasn't often that she spoke out, but her mother was a powerful witch. The woman was from a long-lasting Belarusian magical lineage and had attended Durmstrang.
Milicent therefore knew more about those visiting students than most.
Pansy Parkinson next to her studied her friend's face for a moment before scoffing, "A scholar then. That's not what is needed for such a tournament, is it?"
"Hey hey hey, what is she doing?" Tracey Davis called out once the last witch among the Durmstrang delegation's procession stopped in front of Talion Macnair. She pretended to hide her face behind her hand but split her fingers just enough to peek through unhindered.
"Wow, that is so bold," Daphne Greengrass muttered with a raised brow. She and Tracey would gossip about this for weeks!
"Tssk, that manwhore," Isodora Selwyn scoffed, carefully studying her best friend Natalie's face from the corner of her eyes.
Natalie Rosier, for her part, simply remained quiet. Her expression becoming just a little more downcast but otherwise she kept up her indifferent facade. The break-up with Talion stung so much more than she had ever believed.
Their master had definitely been way too cruel with her young maiden heart, Isodora quietly thought with furrowed brows as her hand gently took Natalie's for comfort.
"What right does he have to cause such a ruckus?" Blaise Zabini loudly asked in righteous indignation, but Isodora leaned forward, looked past the few students between them, and asked, "What right do you have to fiddle with your girlfriend's bum under her robes at a feast?"
The third-year witch next to Zabini blushed a bright red as her head dropped low. But Zabini didn't stop his actions, continuing as he looked at Isodora in provocation.
Eventually he asked, "I have one hand free, you could join?"
The Selwyn witch only wrinkled her nose in disgust and chose to once more pay attention to the Durmstrang students now walking over to their table.
As luck would have it, Vlad Krum chose to sit close to them.
Draco immediately introduced himself despite badmouthing the expected Durmstrang champion just moments prior.
The older Slytherin students all rolled their eyes, at least inwardly.
Then, the Beauxbaton delegation made their entry and everyone paid attention to them. The Durmstrang students even more than the Slytherins because of a competitive spirit. They needed to see that their own performance was more noteworthy than the one from the French.
"I'd love to wear silk, too," Tracey said with a sigh. Adding in a whisper, "Just my panties and bra are not enough."
"At least the elves finally changed out the bedsheets with the ones we brought last year," Daphne said with a pretentious sniff. "Their costumes are very refreshing to look at nonetheless. Maybe we copy Talion and attend a different school next year? My mother attended Beauxbaton. My father would not object."
"We should have a show like that more often," Austin Pucey said with a leer on his face. He was undressing the witches with his eyes quite openly.
Castallan Burke from next to him nodded with barely disguised lust on his face. "Too bad the wards were changed," the Burke scion muttered with a reluctant sigh. "No more open buffet like for our brothers and fathers."
A few girls shot him disgusted glares, but most Slytherin students around them were indifferent to his muttering. The reprehensible actions of older Hogwarts alumni was one of the worst-kept secrets among the Slytherin students.
"Hey, why did you do that with Macnair?" A sixth year Slytherin witch asked after she gathered the courage. She was endlessly curious of course, and as luck would have it, Ekatarina Vaniye had sat next to her. Modesty and etiquette almost made her remain quiet, however the curiosity won in the end.
"Hmm?" Ekatarina hummed, her eyes not leaving Fleur's form as she curtsied in front of the staff table with the rest of the Beauxbaton students. Barely paying attention to the students next to her, she asked, "Make declaration?"
"Yeah, you licked his face in front of everyone," the witch whispered barely loud enough for Ekatarina to hear.
The dueling prodigy briefly turned to her seat neighbor before looking in front again, her gaze following Fleur hurrying toward Talion with another witch in tow.
"I dragged tongue across his face, why are you blushing?" She asked with a thick accent and mild annoyance creeping up her voice.
"It's just-"
Ekatarina shook her head, explaining, "I become dueler to find strong man. Vaniye never marry. We find good seed and raise brats with potential. My father is worthless compared to Talion."
The Slytherin witch next to her had just raised a goblet to her face to hide her face, but she spluttered the drink back into the chalice hearing Ekatarina's explanation.
"S-so bold," she whispered, the small horror in her eyes slowly making way for admiration. Finding her own husband based on what she wanted was a luxury she didn't have after all.
— — —
[3rd POV, Great Hall, staff table, after Beauxbaton entrance]
"That was certainly something," Bathsheda Babbling whispered in amusement as she looked at her once-head-of-house with a smirk.
"Talion is such a rascal," Pomona Sprout sighed in exasperation, though a proud smile was on her face.
"It makes sense for our champion to be this outstanding," Filius Flitwick muttered into his chalice with an equally proud smirk.
"Huh? You think Talion will be chosen as the champion?" Babbling whispered as she leaned closer with curiosity clear on her face.
"Of course, who is more outstanding than him at this school?" Flitwick asked, entirely meaning to sound rhetorical.
"But isn't he a bit young?" Babbling asked. "He'll face wizards and witches three years his senior. With much deeper and advanced education…"
"Has that stopped him from winning those dueling tournaments?" Flitwick countered with a raised brow. "And, isn't Talion a N.E.W.T. level student, too? In fact, he already has his N.E.W.T.s in three courses, something the other champions will likely lack."
"Well, will a N.E.W.T. in Runes, Enchanting, or Herbology really help him in the tasks?" Sprout asked with a worried frown.
"You forget that he took down Moody's imposter. And he already won three dueling tournaments, Pomona," Flitwick reminded and got Sprout to nod in remembrance.
"Well, if you put it like that," Sprout mumbled as she watched Talion squirm his way into a half-charming introduction.
"Who is she, do you know?" Babbling asked as she watched the raven-haired witch next to Talion primly offer her hand for a greeting.
Flitwick just shook his head.
At the center of the staff table, the two headmasters from different schools were flanking Dumbledore. Madam Maxime looked at her students mingling with the Ravenclaws with a certain glint in her eyes. Her enigmatic smile told everyone that everything that happened was within her calculations, done with her express approval.
But nobody knew that it took a lot of willpower from her so that her eyes didn't twitch.
Igor Karkaroff had no such luck or restraint. He was openly glaring at Talion, ignoring his own students mingling with the Slytherin students.
"Who is in charge of the tournament now that Crouch Senior is under investigation?" Maxime asked after sipping some wine.
"Alastor Moody was granted the honor," Dumbledore answered with a serene smile.
"Him? Despite getting bested by a man who rotted away in Azkaban for years?" Karkaroff scoffed into his chalice, looking at Moody who was looking at him.
Both men narrowed their eyes, or eye, in Moody's case.
"There was a bigger plot involved. Alastor's misfortune was not a result of lacking vigilance," Dumbledore defended with a sigh. "I assure you that the Ministry and I will spare no effort to uncover it all."
Karkaroff disdainfully looked at Dumbledore but swallowed his insults.
"Who is your charge? The one following lovely Miss Delacour?" The aged and weary wizard in the middle asked to change the subject.
"You don't know Carina? Madame Flamel took her under her wings. I was sure you had heard of her," Maxime countered, unable to hide her shock.
The Flamel couple was notoriously fond of Dumbledore. Monsieur Flamel had only taken a single student in centuries, and that was him!
"Pernelle took in a student? She had not mentioned it in our last letters," Dumbledore retorted to save face as he brushed his beard.
Ever since he had asked for the Philosopher's Stone three years ago and 'lost it', his relationship with his teacher and his wife had iced considerably. The last thing he heard from Nicolas was that he had been sent a cheap copy instead of the real thing.
"Madame Flamel recommended her to take the champion position after a divination," Maxime explained while gloating.
If a six-hundred-seventy year old witch told you to favor a student for the champion position, you should, Maxime judged.
— — —
[3rd POV, Great Hall, Ravenclaw table, after Beauxbaton entrance]
Harry Potter sat there with an indifferent smile on his face.
He didn't mind his former friend getting all the attention. He was just happy it wasn't on him anymore. He had enjoyed the limelight last year with Talion gone, the students finally having eyes for him, the boy-who-lived.
But with the attention came quite a few drawbacks, too.
First, the fallout from the reveal that he was a Parselmouth wasn't entirely gone. Some students who didn't even know the real him still shared hushed whispers whenever he walked past them.
Second, a lot of Ravenclaw students had their admiration turn into something akin to disdain when they failed to defend the Quidditch cup after two ridiculously easily won years. The disappointment and anger in their eyes last year hurt more than most insults directed at him from the Slytherin students.
Third, any kind of attention on him resulted in Snape paying more attention to him in equal measure. Every plead for early emancipation or the same treatment Talion got by skipping potion lessons was denied by the headmaster.
Sirius, despite managing to reclaim his title as Harry's magical guardian, was unhelpful. He had sided with the aged headmaster, claiming that dodging Snivelus' vain attempts at retribution at the perceived slight that was his birth would build character.
Harry couldn't even be angry with his godfather. He wanted to be, but Sirius got him out of the Dursley home after researching the power of bloodwards all year and proving to Dumbledore that his continued stay at the house of his tormentors would not help 'recharging his mother's protection'. Because the Dursleys did not consider him family in the first place.
But Sirius did.
And yet, despite being happy not being the center of attention, he was feeling a little jealous.
Carina Black had introduced herself via letters, telling Sirius, the 'head of her house', that she would be visiting the 'home of her father' over the course of the next school year. Harry had seen one photograph of the beauty with the long, straight black-haired witch and was instantly infatuated.
Sirius had joked that he could be a matchmaker, bringing him into his family for real when he saw the look on his god son's face. Despite his embarrassment at the time, Harry had not been opposed.
And yet… she sat with Talion among every other student she could sit with.
Harry's indifferent smile slowly turned into a frown.