They Arrived.

(Here's a chapter for you guys! Three new chapter available in the Secret Cheese Society! Yup, you can read up to chapter 49 for free! Five Chapters Ahead Of Time!)

"Why are we here again?" Magnus said, reapplying yet another time a warming charm on his clothes.

It gave him some comfort, unlike many of his less creative fellow students who thought mere school robes would be enough to brave the October Scottish colds.

"We are here because it's only proper to greet our guests when they arrive." Padma said, almost shivering herself. "You are here because McGonagall asked you."

"Yeah, right." He rolled his eyes. "I can be polite too, you know."

"When you are trying to deceive someone?" She said, raising an eyebrow.

"Or scare them." He nodded with a grin.

Death threats worked way better when you were being cordial and mild mannered, everyone knew that. There was just something about a soft spoken gentleman explaining in details how and why you are utterly fucked that made it at least a bazilion times much terrifying.

That's why Snape was scarier than Lestrange, for example.

However, Magnus knew explaining it to Padma would be a pointless endeavor, so he kept silent for the moment.

"Look, they are coming!" Said an excitable little Gryffindor, Colin Creevey or something.

From the depths of the Black lake appeared a mast, some of them thought it was just the giant squid making itself known. They were proven wrong as the shape grew larger and larger, until a ghost-like ship surfaced.

"How the fuck did it get inside the lake?" He asked, getting elbowed by Padma.

"Ouch." She rubbed her now bruised arm. "Are you wearing plate armor under your robes?"

"Serves you right." He snickered.

Magnus didn't wear plate armor, but his shirt did have a layer of dragon scales concealed in between the acromantula silks. That, and the copious amount of defensive enchantments were almost enough to soothe his mind.

"Look! It's Krum!" Ron Weasley screamed like a Justin Bieber fangirl.

The Durmstrang students came out of the ship, all wearing coats bigger than they were and scowls that seemed permanently engraved in their faces.

'I'd be scowling too if I had to live in an even colder shithole.' He thought, almost feeling some empathy.

Almost.

Durmstrang was like a school made specially for Slytherins. In fact, many students in the house of wizarding eugenics had some family members on the other side.

While he was no longer a muggleborn, he still felt like one. And thus couldn't condone this type of discrimination, that would be too hypocritical even by his standards.

The frozen assed students made their way into the castle, led by their not at all evil headmaster.

'He looks like a disney villain.' Were Magnus first thoughts on Karkaroff.

All black robes, rotten teeth and an evil mastermind beard; He looked like the kind of guy who'd explain his entire plan to his nemesis before throwing them off a cliff, of course without checking whether or not they were truly dead.

At least, that was the impression Magnus had of him, then again he was rarely wrong.

'Call it a transmigration privilege.'

Once the mind raping goat finished greeting midget Rasputin, the Durmstrang students were led inside while the Hogwarts students stayed behind to greet the Beauxbatons delegation.

They came in a bright blue carriage led by Abraxans, giant winged horses who made every teenage girl in Hogwarts plus Hagrid squeal in delight.

They landed, and a poor sod was sent down to open the door. What came out was the biggest shoe in the history of shoes, followed by the biggest woman in the history of women.

She looked like a rule36 artwork gone wrong.

She looked like every single gigantism porn mixed together.

She looked like the fantasm of many weirdos throughout the world.

'Damn.' He almost whistled, she was big.

On the corner of his eye, he could see Hagrid going through a very late puberty. The gentle giant was lucky to have such a mighty beard, or else his pink face would be even more obvious.

Magnus wished him the best of luck, if anyone deserved a happy ending, it was Hagrid.

He wasn't close with the half giant by any stretch, even if he did end up taking care of magical creatures along with Runes and Arithmancy. But Magnus knew good when he saw it, and the gamekeeper had to be one of the kindest souls to walk Hogwarts's stony halls.

Olympe Maxime was followed by a host of blue clothed girls and boys, the later of which were all sissy and 'refined' in the most unbearable ways.

'Alright, so they are fucking dumb.' He thought, looking at the fools coming to Scotland in fall with what amounts to summer clothes.

They were all shivering messes by the point Dumbledore was done making Hagrid jealous, but they did their best to appear poised and dignified.

"Achoo!" One of them sneezed, making him and some others chuckle.

They were ushered in, fortunately, and the three wizarding schools could finally enjoy a plentiful feast in their warm and cozy great hall.

As they got in, he felt some pity for the French, even if they were frog eaters which earned them the enmity of many Hogwarts students including Neville.

Magnus took out his wand, and cast a strong warming spell around them, earning himself more than a few grateful nods.

Of course, some of them were much too arrogant to take help when offered. They felt affronted that an English barbarian thought himself better than them, and weren't afraid to make it known.

"Si nous avions vraiment froid, nous aurions pu le faire nous-même." The most snooty brunette he'd ever seen said, "Ces crétins d'anglais n'ont aucun sens de la dignité."

Few agreed with her, but many loved complaining.

"Peut être, mais nous avons la décence de ne pas insulter nos hôtes." He answered, switching to french, leaving her red faced and blabbering.

You should never assume someone can't understand you, that was a lesson everyone should learn at some point. Even if your language is needlessly complicated and has more accents than it should.

Unfortunately, he had to spend more time with the French delegations. Beauxbatons sat with the Ravenclaw, while Durmstrang obviously shared a table with the Slytherin.

'Better sissies than bigots.' He thought, promptly forgetting about the whole ordeal.

The food had been changed to suit their new guests, with French and Bulgarian cuisine scattered through the tables. Being a simple man, he took a Steak Frite and was about to help himself with some Bouillabaisse, the dish reminded of the Beauxbatons champion who was supposedly a 'Half Veela'.

How someone could be half of an all female race was beyond him, but he rather hoped she wouldn't be as disgusting as the ones from the Bulgarian team.

He wasn't that bothered by the features and beak, danger was kind of hot after all. But people who sell their bodies in any shape or form always had his contempt.

No, Karen, mma fighters and other athletes don't count with all the work they put in.

No, Karen, Morgan Freeman and a strip dancer are two very different things.

Unlike Megan Fox and a stripper, who are essentially the same.

And no Karen, a plumber isn't 'selling his body.'

Thinking about Veelas, he remembered the girl from the world cup. He had once wondered about her whereabouts, but had no wish to seek her out.

What he didn't account for, was the very same girl sitting in front of him eyeing the strange soup with fervor.

Magnus moved it back, and she kept following it with her eyes.

He put it to the right, and her head went right.

He put it to the left, and her head went left.

Magnus was tempted to start moving it quickly just for the hell of it, but it would make him look like an even bigger lunatic.

"You want some?" He asked in English.

The girl seemed rather surprised, but he blamed it on some Veela thing. Perhaps a remnant of their predatory instincts bleeding in?

"Oui, pleaze." she said, her accent was lovely.

What wasn't so lovely was the way she looked at him, her gaze was firmly locked on his face. If she wasn't unreasonably attractive, she'd look like a pervert or an axe murderer...

It would be good in some strange early two thousands romance, but now that he experienced it, it was just creepy.

Magnus wasn't a fan of the allure, or any mind fuckery directed at him after the fiasco with the mirror of Erised. Nor did he enjoy being ogled by a complete stranger, regardless of how absurdly pretty she was.

He labeled Fleur Delacour as an inconsequential creep, passed her the surprisingly tasty soup and went on with his day.

'Shame.' He thought he had been pretty taken by her as far as appearance went.

But it took more than pretty eyes and a nice figure to catch his interest.

He didn't notice how all her classmates were chatting among themselves and sometimes with his fellow Ravenclaws, while she sat alone deep in thought.

He didn't pay attention to the glazed and drooling mess most of the boys became, or the jealous glares the female population was giving her.

Magnus noticed none of that, because he didn't care to notice.

Fleur, however, cared very much…

Minerva was having a bad day.

She was used to those, being deputy headmistress and head of house in a school run by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore meant she had next to no time for herself and so many responsibilities any lesser woman would quit.

She saw two wars in her lifetime, fought in one. Lost a husband, a brother and so many friends and students her old heart will never recover. Taught many children, fixed their catastrophes and drilled lessons into their immature minds.

By Morgana, she even organized the death of a basilisk in this very school.

Yet somehow, none of this prepared her for the gray owl who came to her tonight.

At the sight of the gray bird, all the teachers and some of the students in the feast grew silent, as they should. Gray owls were feared in these halls, justly so.

In Hogwarts, the mail is never sent on a feast day. The owls know to rest for the night, and fulfill their duty next, all but the gray owls.

She opened the letter, letting the overworked little creature have some treats from her robes. Reading it, her heart went cold, it was the worst possible outcome.

Her gaze strayed to the Ravenclaw table, where her protege was sitting with his two friends. She didn't even care for the older girl making eyes at her surrogate nephew, nor his obvious dismissal of her.

She wished she could let him enjoy the feast, wished she could fix it all and let him stay blissfully unaware of what transpired. But he deserved to know, he trusted her and she vowed that he would never come to regret it.

Even if it meant hurting him.