Chapter 560: Magic School Arrive
“Ah, looks like Beauxbatons is arriving,” said Egilbert. “I really miss Madame Maxime. Their brandy and champagne are simply divine.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Dumbledore chuckled. “And don’t forget the apple wine and absinthe—Madame Maxime always has the finest.”
The Ilvermorny students, led by a boy, formed a neat line, their eyes wide with curiosity as they gazed at Hogwarts. Some looked up at the giant carriage hovering above.
Boom—
With a thunderous crash, the粉蓝色 carriage touched down, its door emblazoned with the crest of Beauxbatons.
A boy leapt down, opened the spiral staircase, and stood at attention beside it.
Then Madame Maxime stepped out. Towering and statuesque—her height rivaling Hagrid’s—she carried herself with striking beauty, elegance, and a touch of regal pride.
Dumbledore stepped forward. “My dear Madame Maxime—”
Madame Maxime extended a hand adorned with several gemstone rings. Dumbledore bent and kissed her knuckles. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”
She glanced at Egilbert beside her. “Hope we’re not late?”
“Not at all,” Dumbledore smiled. “Your arrival graces our school.”
Egilbert then kissed her hand too, but added with a smirk: “We were the first to arrive—well, just a little ahead of you.”
Madame Maxime raised an eyebrow. She didn’t care who arrived first, but Egilbert’s boastful tone clearly annoyed her.
“Hmm… congratulations,” she said, dismissively waving behind her. “My students.”
A dozen or so students descended from the carriage. Dressed in fine silk uniforms without cloaks, they wrapped their scarves tightly around their necks. Even so, they shivered visibly in the biting wind.
They first stared at Hogwarts, then at the Ilvermorny students—two of whom wore skirts, their faces pale from the cold.
“Are we the only ones here?” Madame Maxime asked.
“Yes, others may arrive at any moment,” Dumbledore replied. “Would you prefer to wait here, or come inside to warm up?”
“You decide, madam,” Egilbert said politely.
“Let’s warm up first,” she said. “But my horses—”
“Our Care of Magical Creatures professor will be delighted to tend to them,” Dumbledore said, gesturing casually.
Hagrid, standing in the professor’s line, was still dazed. Only when Professor Flitwick lightly kicked his shin did he stumble forward.
“I—I’m Rubeus Hagrid, ma’am,” he stammered. “I’ll… I’ll take good care of these lovely little creatures.”
His face flushed hot, his ears turning red—though hidden beneath his thick, tangled hair, no one noticed.
He regretted it instantly. He was wearing his poorly made fur coat, his boots were muddy, and his beard was a mess.
Madame Maxime, struck by Hagrid’s stature, blinked in surprise, then composed herself. “Hello, Professor Hagrid. My horses require special care—they only drink pure malt whiskey, their harnesses must be tested daily, and they need brushing and fresh bedding.”
“I understand,” Hagrid said, flustered. “I’ll treat them like my own children. I promise!”
He reached for the reins. Perhaps because of their similar size, the sigil horses instinctively leaned toward him. They lifted their necks slightly and took a small step back—then accepted his hold.
Madame Maxime nodded, reassured. “Come,” she said to her students.
Egilbert waved to the Ilvermorny students. The crowd parted, forming a tunnel through which they could enter the castle.
The last faint blue figure had barely vanished into the Great Hall when a deafening roar split the sky. Everyone looked up—there, trailing behind a colossal three-headed fire dragon, was a black fortress-like carriage, its chain stretching far into the air.
Several students screamed. The sigil horses from Beauxbatons neighed and bolted sideways, dragging the carriage with them—until Hagrid grabbed the reins and yanked it to a halt. The carriage crashed to the ground with a thunderous boom.
The three heads of the fire dragon were each encased in deep black masks. They shoved and nudged one another, their mouths occasionally exhaling glowing smoke.
The crowd instinctively stepped back, pressing into one another. Shouts of pain rang out from feet being crushed. Wade dodged sideways just in time, grabbing Anthony before he fell. Not far off, Terry landed hard on his backside.
“What is that?” Michael stammered, wide-eyed.
“Kodostoriz,” Wade said. “The Russian magic school.”
“They actually tamed a fire dragon to pull a carriage?” Anthony shrieked.
“Stay calm, children,” Professor Flitwick said urgently. “Maintain your composure. That dragon cannot harm you.”
They glanced at him—then up at the massive beast. The head alone was taller than Flitwick. The reassurance felt utterly hollow.
But the giant dragon soon settled.
The carriage door creaked open. A burly wizard in a bear-fur coat stepped out, gripping a long walking staff.
“Good evening, Dumbledore!” His voice boomed like thunder. “Hope all’s well with you?”
“Wonderfully, thank you, Ivan,” Dumbledore smiled. “And I’m glad to see you too, Gorinich.”
The three monstrous dragon heads lowered, fixating on Dumbledore. Their breaths sent waves of heat through the air, curling the grass blades beneath them.
Then, to the astonishment of every Hogwarts student, Dumbledore reached out and patted the middle dragon’s nose. He muttered something in a language no one recognized.
The dragon’s snout rubbed gently against Dumbledore’s hand. Though fearsome, its eyes seemed strangely gentle.
Wade couldn’t help but think of Dumbledore’s books—something like Twelve Uses of Dragon Blood, perhaps.
With the giant fire dragon leading the way, few noticed the dozen or so students quietly descending the carriage behind it.
They were tall, wearing thick, furry Ushaka hats with ear muffs tied under their chins, their faces obscured by masks. Dressed in heavy fur coats and animal-hide boots, they stood in silence, motionless.
“Dumbledore,” Ivan suddenly asked, “is Karkaroff here yet?”
“Should be arriving shortly,” Dumbledore replied.
“Oh, then I’ll wait with you,” Ivan said, stepping beside him. He raised his hand to signal his students to take the three-headed dragon away.
(End of Chapter)
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