Splintered Heart ♱ Remus Lupin

𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎. we are the champions

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later,they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle . . . yet, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy,matted fur. 

The man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair. ''Dumbledore!'' He called heartily as he walked up the slope. ''How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?''

''Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff.''

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short,and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

''Dear old Hogwarts,'' he sighed, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Evangeline noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. ''How good it is to be here, how good . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold . . .''

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, the brunette caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows, belonging to the one and only Viktor Krum.

A couple minutes later, the Hogwarts students headed for the Great Hall, squabbling over who would get an autograph from the Quidditch player first. 

Viktor and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table, whilst the students from Beauxbatons had chosen to sit at the Ravenclaw table, looking around the room with glum expressions on their faces.

The staff entered shortly after, filing up to the top table and taking their seats.  Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet, resulting in a few of the Hogwarts students laughing. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

''Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,'' Dumbledore beamed around at the foreign students. ''I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.''

One of the Beauxbatons girls, still clutching a muffler around her head, gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, Evangeline noticed Hermione bristle and whisper furiously to Ron and Harry.

''The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!''

He sat down, and Karkaroff from beside the Rosier girl, leaned forward at once and engaged the headmaster in conversation. 

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them, including several that were definitely from France and Bulgaria.