The place looked far more like a palace than a castle.
At dusk, countless lights flickered across the spires surrounding the floating city, bathing everything in a golden glow of splendor.
Beneath them, the golden-coated, silver-maned Abraxan suddenly let out a piercing cry, startling Jon. Then it began to dive, skimming low toward the floating city.
They passed through a grand archway, majestic and imposing—somewhat reminiscent of the Arc de Triomphe. At its top shone a large emblem: two golden wands crossed, each with three stars above them. It was the crest of Beauxbatons.
After flying beneath the arch, the Abraxan descended gracefully, landing in the central plaza of the floating city—right beside a magnificent fountain.
...
The fountain shot water nearly twenty meters into the air, and a few droplets splashed onto Jon's face.
Beside it stood a small wooden plaque with an inscription: This fountain was donated and constructed in 1394 by the renowned alchemist Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Madame Perenelle Flamel.
The Beauxbatons fountain was famous throughout the wizarding world, said to have the power to relieve fatigue and enhance beauty.
Jon couldn't resist dipping his hand into the cool water. It felt refreshing and pleasant against his skin.
No wonder, he thought, that the girls at Beauxbatons all looked so radiant and delicate.
He continued wandering around the fountain square, admiring the numerous statues of witches and wizards—presumably some of Beauxbatons' most distinguished alumni.
Many of their names had come up in A History of Magic:
Vincent de Taffel-Picquart, who in 1790 cast a Concealment Charm on his neck to fake his own beheading and escape the guillotine.
Or Gilles de Rais, France's most infamous dark wizard, who murdered nearly a thousand children as sacrifices for a resurrection spell.
Jon made a rough count and noticed that there were more female witches than male wizards, and far more of them were short than tall.
He wandered for several minutes but saw no sign of any students.
It seemed Beauxbatons, like Hogwarts, was also on summer break.
"The teachers should still be here, right?" Jon murmured to himself.
He needed to find one quickly and ask where Madame Maxime's office was.
But just then, he caught the sound of voices coming from the small grove beyond the fountain.
...
The voices were quiet, but Jon could still make out what they were saying.
"Someone spotted them near the Alps. I think I'll set out tomorrow."
"But the Alps are vast—it'll be very difficult to find them. Perhaps I could go with you?"
"This is a dangerous mission, Olympe…"
Both voices were immediately familiar. One belonged to Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons. The other was unmistakably Rubeus Hagrid—Dumbledore's trusted friend.
Curious, Jon peered through the trees. Hagrid was dressed in that same ugly, furry brown suit, his face beaming with happiness.
Madame Maxime stood beside him, frowning slightly, deep in thought.
"Who's there?" she suddenly snapped, turning sharply toward Jon's direction and raising her wand.
"Good evening, Madame Maxime..." Jon quickly stepped out from behind the trees, explaining in French.
Facing the two towering figures—each nearly four meters tall—was no small pressure.
"If I recall correctly, all Beauxbatons students have already left for the holidays," Madame Maxime said coldly, still pointing her wand at him.
"Yes, Madam..." Jon hurriedly produced the letter he had brought from Durmstrang.
...
"So you are Christopher Patrick?" Madame Maxime said with mild surprise. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned you. He said you're the great-nephew of a friend of his?"
"Great-nephew?" Jon froze inwardly for a moment.
Outwardly, though, he kept a calm expression and nodded. "Yes, my great-aunt was a friend of Professor Dumbledore."
"A relative of Professor Dumbledore?" Hagrid stepped closer curiously, eyeing Jon up and down, which made him feel a chill run down his spine.
"Poor child," Madame Maxime said softly after reading the letter. She bent down and gently placed a large hand around Jon's shoulder. "Your parents passed away when you were just two years old... and you were bullied at Durmstrang, weren't you? Don't worry, no one will mistreat you here at Beauxbatons."
"I knew it! There's not a decent soul in Durmstrang!" Hagrid exclaimed indignantly. "Wait—hold on a second... why are you coming to Beauxbatons? You should be coming to Hogwarts!"
He didn't seem to notice Madame Maxime's expression instantly darken as he went on cheerfully,
"Hogwarts is the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world! Every teacher there is top of their field, and we've got the greatest headmaster in history—Albus Dumbledore!"
Jon glanced between them with a strained smile. "Excuse me, sir, but... who are you?"
"Rubeus Hagrid!" he said proudly, thumping his chest. "Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts, Keeper of Keys and Grounds, and also the gamekeeper!"
"Well, Professor Hagrid..." Jon explained patiently, "Hogwarts only accepts students from Britain. I was born in Austria, so—"
"So Professor Dumbledore arranged for you to study at Hogwarts as an exchange student!" Madame Maxime interjected coolly. "Mr. Patrick, you can go to Hogwarts without worry. I imagine Professor Dumbledore intends to teach you personally during your stay."
"An exchange student? Brilliant!" Hagrid beamed. "Once you're at Hogwarts, come find me in the hut next to the Forbidden Forest!"
As Madame Maxime's expression darkened by the moment, Jon could only offer a strained nod, silently wishing Hagrid would stop talking.
"You look a bit down," Hagrid said, completely oblivious. "Don't worry, you'll get the best education at Hogwarts. I swear, you'll learn more there than you ever could at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons!"
At that, Madame Maxime's face turned murderous.
...
Like a startled rabbit, Jon hurriedly completed the paperwork and fled the Beauxbatons grounds.
As he left, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for poor Hagrid—still standing by the fountain square, blissfully unaware of the doom awaiting him.