"Albus, I apologize for disturbing you so late at night."
Madame Maxime's voice was warm and pleasant, though her gaze was inevitably drawn to the magnificent floating arena in the distance.
"Igor and I heard that Hogwarts has constructed an astonishingly large dueling ground, and now the entire European wizarding world is abuzz with discussion. We simply couldn't contain our curiosity and wanted to see this 'Contract Dueling Arena'—so frequently mentioned in the newspapers—for ourselves."
"You are most welcome!" Dumbledore said with a smile. "In fact, I was just thinking of writing to both of you a few days ago to extend an invitation…"
Karkaroff, however, let out a short, cold snort.
His voice was hoarse: "Most welcome? Hmph! Dumbledore, what exactly is Hogwarts trying to signal to all of Europe by constructing such a behemoth? Is it an attempt to reshape the rules of wizard dueling? Durmstrang is uninterested in other matters, but when it comes to anything involving dueling, we have always maintained... a necessary level of attention."
"Igor, Durmstrang's 'dark' dueling tradition is indeed long-standing, while Hogwarts has only just taken its first steps in this area…" the Headmaster said gently. "Speaking of which, you're already familiar with the main architect of this arena—he's a graduate of your school."
Everyone's gaze followed Dumbledore's words, turning toward Sagres, who was now walking toward them.
Karkaroff's gloomy eyes shifted away from the arena and locked onto Sagres, his expression openly scrutinizing, tinged with a faint trace of unease.
"Is that so?" he said calmly. "Mr. Greengrass graduated from Durmstrang with full marks in every subject, and at the time, he flatly refused both my offer of retention and my invitation—choosing instead to accept a position at Ilvermorny as a Professor…"
"Heh, Professor Karkaroff, perhaps you've forgotten… at the beginning, you were unwilling to accept me as a student."
Sagres took over the conversation with a calm voice and a smile. "Besides, in your teaching, you always favored only those students with strong backgrounds. As for a nobody like me…"
He shook his head slightly. "…you always looked down on me."
His words drew mixed reactions from the surrounding Professors—some showed disdain, others chuckled quietly, while a few pretended not to hear anything at all.
Karkaroff's already grim expression darkened further. But given his usual demeanor, there was little visible change.
"Ah. Professor Greengrass misunderstands…" Karkaroff said stiffly. "I treat all my students equally."
"I see." Sagres didn't even lift his eyes. "Then I must have misunderstood. I had thought the Headmaster was a selfish, cowardly opportunist. Oh, well, I'm glad that it was just a misunderstanding~"
Karkaroff's face turned pale. Just as he was about to respond, Maxime interjected, "The night wind is far too chilly, Igor. The students and Professors are still waiting in the carriages. Let's get them settled in first, and then we can catch up."
"Ah, Olympe is quite right. Please, bring them in quickly," Dumbledore added at once, his voice warm. "Dinner has already been prepared in the Great Hall, and the entire Hogwarts faculty and student body are eager to welcome you."
In truth, the Hogwarts students had only just received the notice.
At that moment, students from each House were rushing to take their seats at the long tables, whispering curiously among themselves.
"What's going on? Didn't we just have dinner?"
"Who cares, I'm kind of hungry right now…"
The students whispered among themselves in confusion, while the prefects—though equally uninformed—did their best to maintain order.
Before long, the young Wizards had all taken their seats, and Dumbledore led the two visiting Headmasters into the brightly lit Great Hall.
"Merlin's smelly panties! She's even taller than Hagrid!" Ron pointed at Madame Maxime, gasping in astonishment. "She wouldn't also be…?"
"Many people wonder about that," Hermione whispered, "but I heard Madame Maxime has never publicly admitted it. She always says she's just 'big-boned'…"
"Is that so? But that's a bit too big…"
"Who's that tall, skinny man?" Harry asked, staring intently at Karkaroff without looking away. "He seemed to glance at me several times just now…"
"Igor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang," Ron leaned in, voice low. "I heard he used to be a Death Eater, and after You-Know-Who fell, he escaped Azkaban by betraying his comrades. Now he's somehow become a Headmaster."
"Durmstrang… Professor Greengrass graduated from there, didn't he?" Harry mused.
"That's right," Ron replied, curling his lip. "Durmstrang only takes pure-bloods. Back then, You-Know-Who had just fallen, and a lot of places were still openly hostile to Muggle-borns. Even Hogwarts wasn't much better—just look at how Malfoy and his lot go on about 'blood purity.' They act like mixing with Muggle blood would somehow stain their precious lineage."
He let out a snort. "But honestly, is there even such a thing as a true pure-blood anymore in Britain? If they'd only ever married within their own bloodlines, they'd have all gone extinct by now."
"Wait, who are those two people following the Headmasters?" Hermione suddenly narrowed her eyes, her gaze fixed on the figures behind them.
Ron followed her line of sight. "I don't know the man, but that lady… Wait, could it be…?"
"Who is it?" Hermione asked urgently.
Though the woman wore an exquisite silver veil, her elegant bearing struck Hermione as oddly familiar.
"It's Miss Veela, Professor Greengrass's friend!" Harry exclaimed. "Don't you remember? In the Forbidden Forest—she saved our lives!"
"Oh my goodness! It is her!" Hermione's eyes lit up.
Ron: "Even with the veil, I'd recognize her anywhere!"
"So she's teaching at Beauxbatons now? I just saw her step off that gorgeous carriage."
"I wonder what subject she teaches…" Harry mused.
Hermione suddenly raised a finger, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Look, their students are coming in!"
The Beauxbatons students entered like a soft breeze, most of them girls, all standing tall and poised.
They moved with graceful steps, every turn and bow appearing deliberately choreographed. Their silver-blue uniforms shimmered gently under the candlelight.
In stark contrast, the Durmstrang students marched in like a battalion—only boys, moving in a tight square formation with synchronized steps. They wore deep red uniforms, had closely cropped hair, sharp eyes, and carried themselves like trained soldiers.
These students were undoubtedly elites carefully selected by both schools, with impressive qualities—but in Sagres's view, they were nothing special.
Others might not know, but how could he not?
Several of the Durmstrang students in formation were juniors from his time there. He remembered that back then, these guys hadn't even been qualified to lose to him.
Sagres fell into thought. Read complete versıon only at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝙣𝙚𝙩
That year, in order to enter Durmstrang, he had used nearly every possible means.
He'd even been forced to reveal his identity as a recipient of the Order of Merlin, just barely managing to open the doors that remained firmly shut to "nobodies."
And as for Igor Karkaroff?
Sagres's gaze paused for a moment on the gloomy, calculating man.
This so-called Headmaster was, at his core, a complete opportunist. He hadn't taken the position to educate or nurture anyone—he was there to serve his own interests.
That performance of "wanting him to stay" Karkaroff had just put on?
Heh. If Sagres hadn't published three groundbreaking papers in Spell Innovation… if his solo-authored Advanced Magical Topology hadn't shaken the Wizarding world…
With Karkaroff's snobbish personality, how could he possibly have looked favorably on a graduate with a family that had disowned him? Offered him a job? Extended an olive branch?
In truth, staying at Durmstrang to teach would've been a decent choice. But by that time, he had already finished reading through Durmstrang's entire library. If he truly wished to pursue the essence of magic and continue expanding his knowledge, he had no choice but to go to Ilvermorny in the United States.
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