HP360- Riding Emperor Potter

Madame Maxime stepped forward, her expression regal as ever, though there was a slight gleam of approval in her eyes. She inclined her head toward Harry and Dumbledore. “Merci beaucoup,” she said in her deep, commanding voice. “This is most appreciated.”

Dumbledore, always the picture of charm, gave her a polite bow. “Madame Maxime, welcome to Hogwarts. It’s an honor to have you and your students here. I trust your journey was pleasant?”

Madame Maxime gave a graceful nod. “Oui, though the air grows colder as we approach your castle.” Her sharp gaze flicked briefly to Harry, her curiosity unmistakable. “Is he your protégé?”

Dumbledore’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Mr. Potter is certainly a candidate worthy of such a title. Teaching him would indeed be an honor, but alas, his busy curriculum and my many responsibilities leave us little time for such indulgences.”

Madame Maxime raised an elegant eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Ah, so this is Mr. Potter. Madame Flamel spoke very highly of you, Monsieur.”

Harry kept his expression neutral, giving a polite nod. “Did she? I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

“Non, quite the opposite,” Madame Maxime replied, her tone measured. “She mentioned your... ingenuity. A rare quality, even among the talented.”

Dumbledore stepped in smoothly. “Indeed, ingenuity is something Harry has in abundance. Now, Madame, if you and your students would follow me, we’ll ensure you’re settled in comfortably.”

The conversation shifted as the Beauxbatons delegation began to descend from the carriage, each student stepping down with the kind of careful poise that made them seem more like performers than teenagers. Harry stepped aside, blending back into the group as Dumbledore and Madame Maxime walked ahead, leading the Beauxbatons students toward the castle.

“Well, that was subtle,” Tracey muttered under her breath as Harry rejoined his friends.

“I thought so,” Harry said mildly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She barely looked like she was sizing me up for a résumé.”

Daphne smirked. “Don’t get used to it. By the time this tournament kicks off, half of Europe will know your name—and the other half will be trying to figure out if you’re dangerous or just lucky.”

Harry looked at Daphne, exasperated. "You sound like I’m about to join the tournament—or even win it. You do realize I’m underage, right?"

Every single one of his friends gave him the same deadpan stare. Then, as if rehearsed, they all spoke at once. "Come on, Potter. We all know the universe will make it happen. Whether you like it or not."

Harry rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into his cloak pockets. "You lot act like I’m some cursed magnet for trouble."

"You are a cursed magnet for trouble," Tracey shot back, nudging him with her elbow. "Don’t even pretend otherwise. You’ve been here for three years, and each one has been more ridiculous than the last."

Daphne smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Let’s see—trolls and Quirdemort in your first year, mass murderer on the loose second year exposed by you, and last year..." She paused dramatically. "Oh, that’s right. Dementors and Azkaban escapees. Totally normal school life."

"Sounds like Hogwarts’ motto should just be ‘Survive the Year,’" Tracey added lazily. "Face it, Harry. If there’s a way to drag you into this tournament, the universe will find it."

"It’s like a natural law," Pansy said, snatching a spare chocolate frog from Blaise’s pocket without so much as a glance. "Gamp’s Fifth Law of Magic: ‘Harry Potter Will Always Be at the Center of Chaos.’"

Harry let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Fine. But even if someone manages to shove my name into that goblet, that doesn’t mean I’ll win. There’ll be actual competitors, you know. Older ones. More experienced. Not everyone’s a walking disaster like me."

"Sure," Daphne replied dryly, crossing her arms. "And yet, I’d still bet on you over the entire seventh-year class combined."

Tracey snorted. "If you do end up in the tournament, Potter, I’ll take the opposite bet. You’ll somehow manage to not only win but do it in the most absurd, over-the-top way possible. Like taming a dragon or something."

"Dragon taming," Blaise said with a smirk. "Sounds like something right up your alley. What’s next? Befriending a dementor?"

I’m not taming anything,” Harry shot back, then paused for half a second as a thought popped into his mind. ‘Wait. I do have a tamed dragon… and two Dementors I sort of befriended last year. They’re still in the Duelling Club serving as targets for Patronus practice. Well, they’re more scared of me than friendly, but I suppose that counts.’ He glanced over at Pansy, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. “Want to see my dragon? It is in my pocket.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, "This again, Potter."

Her tone was sharp, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. "You’re not as charming as you think, you know."

Harry grinned, unfazed. "No need to be jealous, Parkinson. Not everyone gets to hold greatness in their pocket."

Tracey choked, coughing violently as Daphne patted her back with a bemused look. Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in barely concealed laughter. "Greatness in your pocket, Harry? Subtle as ever."

Harry shrugged and didn’t answer as the Great Lake started to churn. The surface rippled unnaturally, deep waves forming despite the stillness of the surrounding air. He smirked, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head toward the water. “They are bold. Good thing Krak knows who’s invited and who isn’t, or their ship would’ve been sunk for real this time.”

Tracey, standing beside him, squinted at the lake but saw nothing beyond the distorted reflection of the overcast sky. “What ship? I don’t see anything,” she said, frustrated, before climbing onto Harry’s shoulder like an overeager child trying to get a better view. “Did they Apparate the ship or what?”

Harry chuckled, the corners of his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. “Even better. You’ll see now.”

Tracey’s curiosity only grew as she shifted on his shoulder, trying to steady herself. “What do you mean, ‘even better’? It’s a lake. Unless it’s got some secret wizarding tunnel—”

Before she could finish, the water erupted in a controlled yet impressive display. From the depths, the pointed mast of a ship emerged, followed by its sleek, barnacle-encrusted hull. It wasn’t just rising—it was as though the lake itself was spitting the ship out, the vessel shedding water like a dog shaking off rain. As the ship fully surfaced, its sails unfurled, dark and tattered, looking as though they had weathered countless storms. The Durmstrang vessel was massive and foreboding, with a figurehead of a roaring sea serpent carved into the bow, its wooden teeth bared as if daring anyone to challenge its might.

Tracey gawked, her mouth slightly open. “What in Merlin’s name…” she whispered, finally sliding off Harry’s shoulder, her boots crunching against the snow as she landed. “They sailed through the lake?”

Harry smirked again. “Told you it was better.”

“That’s not better—that’s insane,” Tracey said, still staring at the ship as it came to a halt near the shoreline. “How did they even—no, you know what, I don’t want to know. It’s probably something ridiculous like underwater dragons pulling it.”

Harry was about to answer Tracey when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned his head to find Luna standing beside him, her large eyes staring up at him with their usual otherworldly intensity.

"I want to sit on your shoulders too," she said simply, as if it were the most natural request in the world.

Harry sighed, realizing resistance was futile. Without much ceremony, he reached out and grabbed Tracey by the waist, lifting her off his shoulders and setting her down in the snow with a soft thud. “You’ve had your turn,” he said before crouching slightly and holding his arms out. “Come on then, Luna.”

Luna clapped her hands together lightly, as if Harry had just granted her a royal favor, and stepped forward. He effortlessly hoisted her up, settling her onto his shoulders like she weighed nothing.

“This is much better,” Luna said with a slight hum of approval. Her legs dangled on either side of Harry’s neck as she adjusted herself comfortably, her gaze fixed on the Durmstrang ship. “I can see everything from up here. Look at the mast—it’s carved with runes. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, fascinating,” Tracey muttered, brushing snow off her cloak and giving Harry a mock glare. “You know, Potter, you could’ve just told her no.”

Harry glanced at her. “And then what? She’d look at me with those big eyes until I caved anyway.”

Tracey crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “So, what’s next? A queuing system for rides on Emperor Potter?”

Before Harry could respond, Luna leaned forward slightly, her hands lightly gripping the top of Harry’s head for balance. “If there’s a queue, I think the Nargles should go next. They’ve been waiting the longest.”

Daphne snorted softly from the side, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Lovegood.”

“Impossibly right,” Luna corrected without missing a beat, her voice calm as always.