Amid the lingering gloom of the holiday ending, the staff welcomed returning students and new arrivals.
The students quickly noticed that their once favorite young and handsome Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had changed. It was as if he had been infected by Professor Snape—he wore a gloomy expression every day, his classes were no longer lively or humorous, and even small mistakes would earn sharp sarcasm.
Lockhart's mood was partly an act for Dumbledore, partly lingering resentment from being dosed with Veritaserum (understanding didn't mean forgiving), and partly anxiety over failing to stop Barty Crouch Jr.'s plot.
As one student summed it up: "Even Hermione Granger, Professor Lockhart's favorite, doesn't dare go to his office anymore."
It seemed that bad-tempered people naturally became friends. Lockhart now called Snape "Severus," and in return, Snape begrudgingly addressed him as "Gilderoy." A shared secret goal had a way of bringing people closer.
On the last day of October, the other two schools for the Triwizard Tournament were set to arrive for a year-long stay.
That afternoon, the final class ended half an hour early. Lockhart had no classes and stood behind Dumbledore well in advance, enduring the cold wind for quite some time.
At exactly six o'clock, a massive carriage the size of a house, pulled by twelve winged horses, descended from the southeast, landing spectacularly amid the students' excited murmurs.
A servant in light blue robes opened the door and lowered the steps. Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons, appeared gracefully under everyone's gaze.
She was astonishingly tall—even taller than Hagrid—but perfectly proportioned. Her skin was smooth, her face elegant, her large dark eyes fluid like water, and her aquiline nose striking. Her hair was swept back into a shining knot at the nape of her neck. She wore black satin from head to toe, adorned with dazzling opals.
Dumbledore led the applause and stepped forward. "Welcome to Hogwarts, dear Madame Maxime!"
She extended her hand elegantly, and Dumbledore bent just enough to kiss her knuckles.
"How do you do, Dumbledore," she said, her deep, velvety voice carrying a strong foreign accent. The girls behind her, dressed in silver-blue silk robes, seemed dim in comparison. All the elegance of France seemed concentrated in this one tall, graceful woman.
"Delighted to meet you, Madame Maxime," Lockhart quickly introduced himself as she turned his way. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts—at your service."
"I have heard much about you, Mr. Lockhart," she replied with a polite curtsy, subtly positioning herself to shield the students behind her—as if guarding against his reputation as a notorious charmer.
After repeatedly emphasizing how difficult her horses were to manage, and receiving Dumbledore's assurances that Hagrid could handle them, she was finally led into the castle by Filch.
Several minutes later, the Durmstrang delegation arrived.
A whirlpool formed in the center of the lake. With a deep, churning roar, a skeletal three-masted ship rose from beneath the water. Even under moonlight, it looked like a dark silhouette—like a ghost ship. Dim lights flickered aboard like the eyes of some creature. As it docked, figures could be seen through the portholes preparing to disembark.
When they stepped onto the grounds, everyone saw they were wrapped in heavy furs, making them appear even more imposing.
At their head was Igor Karkaroff, wearing a silver fox fur cloak matching his hair. His pointed beard twitched as he greeted Dumbledore enthusiastically.
"My dear old friend Dumbledore! How are you?"
Karkaroff's reputation wasn't good, and this was likely his first return to Britain since being acquitted. When he proudly called forward a student, it became clearer why he dared show himself.
Then, turning toward Lockhart with exaggerated delight, he exclaimed, "By Merlin! Isn't this our dear Mr. Lockhart? Your adventures are required reading at our school!"
As a former Auror, Lockhart had no fondness for him, but he responded politely.
The students filed into the Great Hall, with Hogwarts staff entering last. They regrouped with Madame Maxime in a side chamber before taking their seats at the staff table.
There were four extra chairs—two for the visiting heads, and two for Ministry officials overseeing the tournament. Soon enough, Rufus Scrimgeour and Ludo Bagman arrived.
The students paid little attention to them. Instead, their gazes—openly or secretly—were all drawn toward the Ravenclaw table.
The Beauxbatons students had arrived wearing only thin silk robes, many wrapping scarves around themselves to keep warm. Now, in the warmth of the hall, one of them removed her scarf.
A cascade of pale golden hair fell to her waist—thick, smooth, almost like that of a Veela. Even the meticulously groomed Malfoy family couldn't compare. Her beauty was natural, and her presence carried an almost intoxicating allure.
Nearly every boy stared in stunned silence. Many girls looked on with envy.
From the staff table, Lockhart held his goblet and observed her.
If he wasn't mistaken—this was Fleur Delacour.
Truly breathtaking. No wonder the students lost composure. Even Lockhart had rarely seen such beauty. Veela blood was indeed remarkable.
But for now, his mind wasn't on romance.
After a brief welcome, Dumbledore moved straight to the point.
"In the past few months, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Scrimgeour have worked tirelessly to prepare for the Triwizard Tournament," he said. "Together with myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime, they will serve as judges."
"Now—Filch, bring the chest."