Disclaimer: I’m not JKR, what belongs to her doesn’t belong to me

Disclaimer: I’m not JKR, what belongs to her doesn’t belong to me. Sniff!

AN: For Jasmine speaking French: she’s been in Beauxbatons for a year—yes, that’s not enough time to learn a language, but she’s picked up enough to hold some conversation and she wears a translator thing like the same way Leevi, Christelle and Draco use in Durmstrang. Did I forget to mention that? Sorry. Comes with writing different versions of the last chapter…

ooOOoo

Champions

ooOOoo

Leevi and Christelle joined the group of Durmstrang students pouring out of the ship the next morning. Grouped by year, the students dressed in their training uniforms, long sleeved black tops with the Durmstrang eagle blazing red on the arms, grey pants, and black boots. The seventh years led the way to the lake and they started the morning exercises that had been drilled into them before moving on to age-specific drills. Paul Metzger watched, instructed, pushed, and prodded, studying the students in front of him. Some of them were the best he had taught and all of them were the best of their year group. It was part of the reason why they had been allowed to come but if it had been up to him, they would have stayed behind in Durmstrang. For them to spend a year outside of the vigorous training program was a waste. Unfortunately Karkaroff had put his foot down, claiming it was important to publicize the institution in a good light and what better way than to participate in the tri-Wizard Tournament and bring an entourage that would make Durmstrang proud?

He snorted as he rearranged the pairings for drills. He glanced down the line and rolled his eyes at the Maximus twins. Even though he hadn’t trained them in the first two years of their schooling, they had arrived at Durmstrang prepared for his grueling pace. He didn’t even bother switching their partners. Aleksader Krum and Draco Malfoy were good—and at the beginning had had a better grip on dark curses, but at this point they were quite obviously second to the twins. He had started to train them with the fifth years to give them the chance to duel someone that was a challenge apart from each other.

Flashback

Paul Metzger watched the second year students go through the dueling exercise, fixing stances and wand movements when needed. There was a small number of students who caught on faster than others and for those, he gave instructions on how to decrease casting time and increase power. He watched two of the Hogwarts transfers and young Aleksander Krum, the three in this year group that showed the most promise, and motioned them to join him at the side of the room.

“Professor Metzger.” They greeted.

He nodded and conjured three desks and chairs, parchment, ink, and quill.

“Sit down. Write your names.” He watched as they did as they were instructed without pause. Good, he thought, those twins would have asked questions before following instructions a month ago. They’re learning.

“Now switch the quill to your left hand. Write your names without looking at the parchment.” Aleksander and Leevi’s faces showed signs of concentration, but Christelle looked calm as she followed the instructions. Metzger took their pieces of parchment and studied them. The boys had some control—normal for well-coordinated youngsters writing with their non-dominant hand, even if Leevi had smudged some of the ink. Christelle Maximus’s parchment was a welcome surprise however. He recognized her name written neatly, in cursive, an exact replica of how she wrote with her dominant hand—if he held a mirror up to it. She’d written it from right to left. That could lead to interesting developments.

He nodded and banished the parchment, ink, and quills. The three students stood up and he banished the desk and chairs as well.

“You three will be working on a special project in addition to regular training with me. See the Deputy Headmaster after dinner.” With that, he had them rejoin the others in their exercises.

He’d watched from a shadowed corner when the three students entered Petrovsky’s office later that night.

“Come in, come in.” Dmitri Petrovsky motioned for them to take seats. “Professor Metzger tells me you three have exhibited quite some talent on the field. I know that he has been keeping an eye on you, Aleksander, but you two,” he said, looking at the twins, “must have done something interesting for him to bring this to my attention within a few months of you being here.”

He reached into a drawer and brought out three wands. “The special training Professor Metzger was referring to is the sort of training that must be started at a relatively young age but is not given to many for most do not have talent for it. Usually we would start you with writing or drawing with your non-dominant hand to increase your control, but you’ll have to do that on your own time as Professor Metzger wants you to get started on these. These wands are on loan for you to practice with for the rest of the year. Start with simple spells and charms—no dueling spells without supervision, or the privilege of training to duel with two wands will be taken from you. How far you go with this depends on your personal interest. You may go as far as being proficient in a lower level of dueling with your non-dominant hand if your wand hand is incapacitated in a fight, or you can go to the extent of being able to duel with two wands simultaneously. It’s not a project to be taken on lightly and only a handful of Durmstrang students have been trained thusly. You will need to find a second wand over the summer. Questions?”

He smiled as the three gobsmacked students took the wands reverently. He’d enjoy training these three. Oh yes, he would.

End Flashback

“Weapon’s course!” he bellowed, smirking as the third years tried to conceal their groans as everyone took out their staffs. “First degree, begin!”

ooOOoo

Leevi and Christelle walked into the Great Hall with Draco and Aleksander. Draco and Aleksander moved to the Slytherin table while the twins joined the Gryffindors after taking a slight detour to greet their friends from the other Houses. Sitting across from Harry and Hermione, they dished up their breakfast with gusto.

“Hey guys.” Harry yawned. “Hungry this morning?”

Leevi smiled as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. “Training will do that to you, mate.”

“Training?” Hermione asked, her head perking up in interest.

“Yup. Two hours this morning. Do you think the 7th years will cut it down a bit after Metzger leaves?” Christelle asked.

“Who knows? I guess it depends on which two we’ll be saddled with. At least we’ll have Sundays off.”

“Hey look—“ Harry pointed out the Beauxbatons students lining up around the Goblet of Fire. They watched as five of them took turns flicking small pieces of rolled up parchment, tied with blue ribbon, into the fire before retreating to the table in the middle of the hall to dish up breakfast. A few minutes later, the three Durmstrang seventh year students strode forward and dropped their names in.

“Do you know if the students from Hogwarts have entered their names yet?” Leevi asked Harry, who laughed and pointed down the table.

“See the missing Weasley twins? The rumors are that they tried to put their names in early this morning and haven’t been seen since. They were up all night brewing a potion to help them pass the age-line.”

“Good morning!” Jasmine walked up to them with two other Beauxbaton students. “Claude, Marie, this is my brother Harry, that’s Leevi and Christelle!”

“Are you er—triplets?” Claude asked shyly.

Harry laughed. “No—those two are twins but we’re just cousins. You three want to join us for breakfast?”

Jasmine nodded and climbed onto the bench. “The Head Girl is going to give us a tour of Hogwarts after breakfast!”

“The Head Boy is supposed to do that for Durmstrang students.” Leevi said with a shrug and a smile. “We’ll probably tag a long and put in some fun commentary. Do you guys want to meet up after that?”

Harry nodded, smiling as Hermione rolled her eyes. “I promised to show Jasmine the fun parts of the castle. And play a pick-up game of Quidditch at 6.” Harry whispered to Leevi, nudging him in the ribs. “You think you can scrounge up some players from Durmstrang?”

Leevi smiled. “Oh, I’m sure I can.”

ooOOoo

Leevi and Christelle trailed after the rest of the Durmstrang students as they prowled through the halls of the old castle.

“Has she always been like this?” Leevi asked as they walked by a suit of armour. Christelle walked quietly beside him, fingers trailing on the stone walls.

She smiled, knowing he was finally seeing Hogwarts with his mage sight. “She’s mostly the same as when we left. It’s been one and a half years and she’s woken up some but I think she’s been concentrating the extra magic elsewhere.” She took in his questioning glance and made a small motion to the window outside as they headed up to the Astronomy tower. Leevi moved unobtrusively to the side and glanced outside, almost losing his footing when the gargoyle decorating the window sill turned his head minutely to give him a small nod.

Christelle chuckeled and grabbed his arm to help him regain his footing. “Yeah, they haven’t done that in a while.”

Leevi smirked. “Think the gargoyle outside of Dumbledore’s office might be awake too?”

“What are you thinking of now, Leevi?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. His only answer was an extra twitch of the lips.

ooOOoo

At dinner, students sat with their respective schools. The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang rose as the headmasters from all three schools entered from the side door and sat at the head table. There were excited whispers flittering around the room as students debated who would be the selected champions. A burst of laughter from the Hogwarts tables accompanied the entrance of the Weasley twins. Turning around to look at them, Leevi couldn’t hold back a chuckle either. They hobbled in with knobbly knees, crooked canes, and bald heads, swinging mugs of butterbeer and sloshing it all over the place. Thankfully, not on any of the Durmstrang students who could have easily taken offence.

“I see you two have been trying to circumvent Dumbledore’s enforcement of the age-restriction.” He said lightly. The twins turned to him.

“Blimey—Forge!”

“I’ll say, Gred!”

“It’s the Potter replicas return to the fold!” They crowed together, patting Christelle and Leevi on the head.

“Aaaww, wittle Maximuses—“

“So young, so young!”

“Don’t know how you do it—“

”Nope, really don’t, it must be the age difference—“

“What are you two blabbering about now?” Christelle asked with a laugh.

“Oh, you two youngersters surviving—“

“In the bitter cold dungeons of the Durmstrang fortress.”

“Would be hell on the bones of us mature gents, right Gred?”

“No doubt about it, Forge!”

“All right, all right—go slurp your applesauce dinner. Or did you accidentally keep your teeth after your mysterious aging?” Leevi asked as they hobbled along.

“Oy!”

“I’ll let you know, young Leevi—“

“That there are things called dentures!”

“Fred—I know I’ve got mine, but where are yours?”

“Blimey—my mind’s flying away with all this old age…” he muttered as he threw the twins a wink and perched themselves at the Gryffindor table. “Young Weasley! Pass the potatoes! No, not those potatoes, the mashed potatoes.”

“Really, the young generation has no respect, no respect…”

Aleksander leaned forward to ask Leevi, “Who where those two?”

“The Weasley twins,” he replied with a smile. “Halloween’s only a couple of weeks away. We should plan something for it, don’t you think?”

The Durmstrang students that heard his comment smiled slightly, before returning to their dinners.

ooOOoo

Albus Dumbledore watched his students mingle with each other, the sounds of their voices and laughter reaching and lifting his spirits. After getting reports from Severus on how the Maximus twins had seemed to settle in at Durmstrang, he had assumed that it was due to their absorbance of the Dark Arts. Seeing them conversing with the Potters and other Gryffindors at breakfast this morning had done nothing to alleviate his worries of them trying to recruit his Light followers into the folds of Dark magic. He could see how well integrated they were in the Durmstrang community and he was glad that he—with Alastor and Remus, of course—had been able to establish in the Boy-Who-Lived a need for caution, trepidation, and proof of good intentions, manners, and magic amongst any non-Hogwarts students he decided to befriend.

At long last, both the dinner and pudding had arrived, been eaten, and cleared off the tables. Dumbleodre walked majestically out into the hall and brought in the Goblet of Fire. He waved his wand at the Goblet and caught a small piece of rolled parchemnent, slightly burned around the edges.

"Dear students, it is my pleasure to present the Champion for Beauxbatons—Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour!” The students in Beauxbatons blue cheered and stood clapping for their fellow classmate. The Hogwarts studnts clapped politely while the Durmstrang students pounded the table lightly with their knuckles.

“And the Champion for Durmstrang is—Victor Krum!” This time, the Durmstrang students set up a chant with their champion’s last name as he stood up to recognize his nomination.

“And the Champion for Hogwarts is—Cedric Diggory!” The Hufflepuffs led the other houses in cheering as the other schools clapped politely. Even the Slytherins joined somewhat.

“At least it wasn’t a Gryffindor.” Nott muttered under his breath.

Everyone was clapping politely when another piece of parchment flew out of the Goblet of Fire. Christelle grabbed Leevi’s arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“It appears,” Dumbledore paused as silence fell over the Great Hall, “that we have a fourth Champion in the tri-Wizard Tournament this year.” His gaze raked over the crowded room before alighting on the Boy-Who-Lived. “Neville Longbottom.” The fire in the goblet went out.

ooOOoo

The uproar was tremendous. Despite his frustration at Neville’s consistent backing of Dumbledore (which he had to admit he may have fallen to himself if the old man had bothered to give him any kind of training), Leevi felt sorry for the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew what it was like when no one seemed to believe him, claiming a breach of the purpose of holding a tournament across schools to have such cheating come forth. Madame Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff left the Great Hall with Dumbledore to discuss what would happen with the choosing of a fourth champion. Meanwhile, Victor Krum was standing up in the Great Hall. McGonagall watched him closely, ready to intervene if needed.

Victor walked over to the Beauxbatons half of the table and strode over to Fleur, holding out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Delacour.” She offered her hand and nodded in greeting. Then, he turned to the Hufflepuff table and shook Cedric’s hand. “Mr. Diggory.”

“Mr. Krum.” Cedric returned, standing up in return but staying by his table. Fleur and Cedric shared a nod in acknowledgement of each other as contestants in the tournament. Victor returned to his seat without looking at the Gryffindor table, Fleur turned to drink from her goblet, and Cedric sat down after catching Neville’s eye for a second.

Everyone’s eyes were trained on Neville when Ron stood up and stormed away from the Great Hall.

ooOOoo

“Karkaroff’s back.” Draco announced as he walked down the hall, tapping on Christelle and Leevi’s room. “You guys coming to the meeting?”

“Yeah.”

They slipped on their blood red robes and headed to the chilly meeting room. “Who’s in charge of the warming charms anyway?” Draco groused as he sat down in a chair.

“Charm your clothes then, Mr. Wizard.” Aleksander smirked as he dropped into the chair next to him. “What agreement do you suppose they’ve come up with?”

No one answered this as they all stood up in attention when Karkaroff strode into the room.

“Sit.” Karkaroff let his eye roam over the students from his school. “Victor, join me.” After a pause to wait for the selected Durmstrang champion to make his way briskly to his side, he continued his announcement. “Placing one’s name in the Goblet of Fire means submitting to a magically binding contract, so Longbottom will have to compete.” He raised a hand to quiet the murmurs. “Since the fire in the goblet has gone out, we cannot add more names to select second champions for each school or redo the selection. We have gone over the rules and regulations of the tri-Wizard Tournament and there seems to be no loophole to remove him from the competition without placing due harm on his magic due to the contract. However, we have come unto a—compromise. Longbottom will not represent Hogwarts—that role falls on Cedric Diggory as he does fulfill all the requirements of a legal champion and was the first announced for Hogwarts. Instead, he will be an entity onto himself. If he wins the tournament, he will receive the reward money as well as the trophy and title of Champion, but no school name will be adhered to the victory.”

Mumurs rose at this declaration. “Dismissed!” he called and made a move to leave. The students quieted down immediately and stood respectfully until he left the room.

ooOOoo

“What are you doing?”

“Writing.”

“What are you writing him about?”

Christelle looked up and paused a bit before answering. “The fact that Neville’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire. As one of the Treatises was written about magical artifacts,” she said, waving towards her trunk where their pilfered copy of it lay, “I thought he might have some theories on how they altered it to provide four names instead of three. With the history behind that goblet, it shouldn’t have been easy to tamper with.”

Leevi nodded, sitting on the floor next to her bed and drawing his knees up to lay his arms over them. “You won’t mention the water nymphs? Or the gargoyles?” he asked, gazing at the wall.

“No.” she said tensely.

“And you’ll let me read over the letter before you send it?”

“Yes.” She said, glaring at his back.

He nodded, got up and walked to the door. “You know why I’m doing this, right?” he asked softly, turning around.

She nodded, turning back to her parchment as he quietly left her room.

Flashback

“Ah, thank you for coming Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Maximus, Miss Maximus.” The deputy headmaster waved them into his office. “Please, take a seat.”

“Now there are a few things we need to go through before the three of you are discharged for the summer vacation in a few weeks. I know it’s a bit early, but I like to get this out of the way before exams. First of all, I would like to congratulate the three of you on your excellent integration into Durmstrang. We don’t usually accept transfers seeing as our curriculum places a heavy emphasis on physical and magical training for dueling—I’m sure you have noticed. After some time in other schools, it becomes too difficult for some students to catch up to our pace. The three of you have done remarkably well.

Secondly, I advise you not to let up too much on your personal training over the next couple of months—if you do, you will find your return in the fall to be a harsh wake-up call and Professor Metzger will not run you through practice lightly because it’s the beginning of the term. Furthermore, these books will help prepare you for the third year political discourse class. The other students have been exposed to this type of thinking and each have a copy of this already. You should study it this summer.”

The three students leaned forward in their chairs to take the books. Draco looked at his curiously but merely placed it on his lap with a quick nod to the deputy headmaster. Leevi resisted the urge to flip through the pages and look over at Christine. Its cover was a navy blue but the build seemed oddly familiar.

“Lastly, we come to the question of what will be the easiest way for you to return to Durmstrang next fall.” Petrovsky continued. “Our spell master has made portkeys tied to our students’ magical signatures for the past few years and I think its time you met him. Follow me.”

They stood up and followed him down the hallways and into the tunnels underneath Durmstrang. “As you have undoubtedly found out, these tunnels do not merely lead to the castle—there are numerous rooms and large caverns throughout, although most are not in use. This one, however,” he said, ducking through a rough archway, “is one each student ends up visiting once in their Durmstrang career.”

Leevi and Christelle followed Draco through and found themselves in a large open space, light somehow reflected off the stones on the wall to illuminate the workroom where large tables were scattered with scrolls and magical artifacts. At the back, sat a familiar looking man. Christelle swallowed hard.

“Master Lovegood?” Petrovsky called, “We have need of three specified portkeys.”

Leevi prodded Christelle to keep up with them as the walked up and waited as Dmitri Petrovsky spoke with Luna’s father.

Master Lovegood nodded a few times and smiled warmly at them. “Well, why don’t you three pick out something from that corner to use as a portkey? Choose wisely, mind you—I will not make another portkey for you and if you misplace it you’ll have to arrange alternative ways to come within the vicinity of Durmstrang, something the Deputy Headmaster dislikes to deal with.”

Half an hour later, they had their portkeys. Draco had chosen a small pin in the shape of an occamy while Christelle and Leevi had chosen rings. They followed the deputy headmaster back to the castle, but two days later found Christelle sneaking down between classes to speak to Master Lovegood about the unique qualities of magical signatures.

Master Lovegood didn’t mind the young girl who seemed to have a genuine interest in magical theory and became especially intrigued when he spied her smiling at an earth pygmie—she was the first he had encountered who seemed to be able to see the little magical beings, everyone else gained a feel for the effects of their magic but couldn’t see them themselves. Other than his late family, that is. So he made time for her on the days she came down. Her brother came to visit a few times with her but he didn’t feel the same kind of connection as he did with the young Christelle.

It was during one of those visits that Christelle found out what this version of her father had been working on the last few years. On one of the work tables filled with scrolls, she spied a familiar looking book that appeared to be in the process of being revised. Seeing that the master spellcaster was still entranced in his work and he had told her to look around for a few minutes while he finished something, she made her way to the work table and skimmed the familiar handwriting. Turning the book over on its side, she saw one work in silver spidery writing on the cover. Treatise.

“Miss Maximus?”

Christelle jumped and spun around. Xenophilius’s pensive face was disturbingly close as he leaned over to take the book from her hands. “Ah, I see you’ve found one of my on going projects.”

“How does studying magical signatures have anything to do with magical artifacts?” she asked innocently.

“Constant use of an object by a magical being will impart upon it bits and pieces of magic—constantly being used for specific rituals will imbue an artifact with a certain magical personality. Don’t you think different magical auras will influence objects differently? There’s some research being done—not much mind you, but some—on how to charge an object with a person’s magic… quite wondrous, really.”

“Like the student portkeys?”

“Hmmm… not quite, as that is more similar to making an aspect of an individual’s magical signature the key to unlocking the spell that makes the object a portkey.”

Leevi had not taken the news that Master Lovegood was involved in writing the Treatise very well. He had cautioned her against saying too much. Roundabout questions about the single picture of Luna and her mother on Master Lovegood’s work desk had suggested that the Luna Lovegood of this world had perished with her mother at the age of nine, something that coincided with the beginning of Xenophilius Lovegood’s work at Durmstrang.

“He asked me my opinions on mythical magical creatures.” Christelle said one afternoon as he packed his trunk. They were leaving for the summer the next day.

“What did you tell him?”

“We had an interesting conversation about nargles.”

“Christelle—“

“What did you want me to do?” she asked, tears in her eyes. He quickly dropped the book he was holding and moved over to the bed where she was sitting. Taking her hands in his, he looked into her eyes and spoke softly.

“I know you want to get close to him, to talk to him like you used to but you have to be careful. He’s not the same as he was before.” He said, drawing her into a hug. “I’m sorry to have to continue to remind you about this, but I pulled that Treatise off of Sirius after he got attacked by Lucius Malfoy over it. Even if Draco has stopped strutting around pretending to be the next favorite of the Dark Lord…”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

End Flashback

ooOOoo

Glares interspersed by silence or angry murmurs followed Neville on Monday morning. He’d tried to talk to Ron but his red-haired friend only grumbled in response and left the dorm room with Seamus and Dean behind him. He tried to meet the eyes of the other students at the Gryffindor table but had trouble doing so. He had spent yesterday skirting other students, staying in the library or in the dorms when the students were out, reading about past tri-Wizard tournaments feverishly. His attempts to speak to the headmaster hadn’t given fruit and now he had to brave classes with everyone glaring at him. It didn’t help that they had announced Cedric as the Hogwarts Champion and himself as… a fourth champion not representing a school. The article this morning in the Daily Prophet hadn’t lifted his spirits much as they centered around theories of the different reasons the Goblet had named him as a champion. Neville had clearly stated at the breakfast table that he hadn’t placed his name in the goblet—but all he had received was a scathing glare from Ron and a taunt from the Slytherin table about him making up a situation where people were out to get him again. He’d decided to cut breakfast short at that point and left the Great Hall quickly, knowing that students were watching his retreat.

He slumped into a chair and waited for the rest of the students and Professor Binns to arrive for class. As the crowd arrived, he noticed without surprise that Ron decided to take a table in the back with Seamus rather than sit with him. He was surprised however, when Hermione sat down next to him and pulled out her History of Magic textbook.

“We believe you.” She said quietly as their ghostly professor glided to the podium. “Harry and I do, and Leevi and Christelle.” She said, sneaking a glance and a small smile at him. “I know you haven’t taken up on the offer before, but you can still seek out the study group if you want. Ron too, if he stops being a git.”

Seeing as that was the first non-hostile thing anyone had said to him in the last day and a half, Neville couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.” He whispered as he glanced towards the desks in the back of the room. Ron was glaring at the four Durmstrang students. He was surprised to see Christelle sharing a desk with Draco Malfoy and Leevi sitting with another Durmstrang student. He’d assumed that the twins would stick together, but now that he thought about it, they’d seemed pretty chummy with the former Slytherin and the other Durmstrang students.

Hermione followed his gaze and elbowed him, nodding her head towards the professor. He smiled as he turned his attention to the front of the classroom. He’d still try to talk some sense into Ron as he was his best friend, but it was good to know that some people did believe him. Thinking back on the examples of Tournament tasks presented in his book, he suppressed a shudder and decided that joining Hermione’s study group—with or without Ron—might be a good idea this year. A very good idea.

ooOOoo

A/N: There, we finally find out a little bit about Mr. Lovegood being at Durmstrang. First task and further developments coming up…