Chapter Text
Chapter 14
“Don't lie to me,” Madame Maxime was toweringly tall as she loomed over Fleur. “Are you certain?”
“I am,” said Fleur serenely, offering her most sincere smile. “I saw Henry head to the carriages hours ago, he must've been so tired after his time at the village that he turned in for the night without signing-in with a Professor upon his return. There's no need for you to check the carriages - I'm sure all is well.”
Fleur stood in the hallway, her friends behind her, stopping Madame Maxime in her tracks. Fleur wasn't letting her through. Not for anything.
“I spoke with one very concerned Monsieur Nott who informed me he did not return with Black, and did not hear from him at all during or following their journey back to the castle,” said Madame Maxime scathingly. “If it is as you say, that Black returned in one piece, then surely he would have arrived with or even before Monsieur Nott?”
“I wouldn't know, Madame,” replied Fleur. “I've never met the Nott boy, I'm sure I wouldn't recognize him if he stood right before me.”
“Hm,” Madame Maxime leaned down, frowning as she met Fleur's stormy blue eyes. “I hope for your sake as much as Black's that what you say is true. If I discover you have lied, and he is indeed missing, I will punish the both of you most severely.”
“Not to worry, Madame,” Fleur just smiled. “Come dawn, I will speak to him myself.”
“I expect him at my door by no later than eight o'clock in the morn,” sniffed Madame Maxime. “See to it you escort him yourself, will you?”
“Yes, Madame,” Fleur offered the smoothest bow she could, maintaining the same serene smile. The Headmistress scowled briefly at Fleur's two shadows stationed behind her before storming off through the castle.
“You’re screwed,” said Alan, leaning against a nearby wall. He was the very picture of nonchalance, all but those sharp, calculating green eyes. “How are you planning to procure your little Black from nowhere?”
“Be quiet!” hissed Fleur, “As far as anybody knows, he is safe and sleeping as we speak.”
“And yet the truth dictates he is missing,” said Alan. “What makes you think he is safe and well? Are you not worried about his absence?”
“Of course I'm worried,” snapped Fleur. “But fact is he's missed curfew, and, regardless of the reason for it, if he's caught Henry will be punished. If he is in danger and needs our help, I don't want Madame or anyone else punishing him for it. Better to lie and go find him myself than get him into unnecessary trouble.”
“You needn’t stick your neck out for him so,” drawled Céline, eyes keen. “He is a Champion, there isn’t much Madame can do to him that would be more severe than having him participate in the Tournament as a Year 4.”
“Aside from force him to serve detentions with Professor Moody,” said Alan. “You know how he tends to teach quite forcefully…”
“Don’t speak that into existence, don't even think of it,” said Fleur dangerously. “You have no idea how badly that single lesson affected him. I would sooner gouge out Professor Moody’s remaining eye than allow him to aim his wand at Henry again.” Fleur vividly remembered the state in which she found Henry that day - never had he looked as small and vulnerable as he had in that moment. Whatever he experienced due to Professor Moody’s curse was deeply scarring for him. Fleur never wanted to see him like that again.
“That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” Alan’s eyebrows shot up. “You barely know the kid.”
“Keyword: kid,” said Fleur. “He didn’t want this - Henry wanted to enjoy his Year 4 playing Quidditch, spending time with his friends, attending classes; he’s in several Year 6 and Year 7 classes, if he doesn’t get a proper education this year it could threaten his ability to graduate with Honors! I don’t take this lightly, and neither should you. Henry is a victim, and we still don’t know who forced him into this position. So no, it’s not excessive, I will do everything in my power to assist him and protect him from those who would wish to see him fail.”
For a moment Fleur’s friends could only stare. Alan straightened from his position, pushing off the wall; Céline crossed her arms and looked Fleur up and down, dragging her gaze searchingly.
“Your heart is too open, my dear flower,” murmured Céline. “You'll get yourself hurt one of these times.”
“I’m willing to risk that,” said Fleur firmly.
“... The road to the village is long,” said Alan softly. “If you go now, we’ll cover for you until morning. But you’d better hurry.”
“Oh, thank you,” Fleur stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you, Alan, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“This is such a bad idea,” groaned Céline. “But fine, I’ll maintain this damned sham as well. Go.”
“I'll be right back,” said Fleur firmly. She offered Céline a thankful nod and quickly hurried off.
Fleur made her way out of the castle clear as a pane of glass under a strong Concealment Charm. Like a chameleon she blended into her surroundings, warping space as light passed through and around her with every movement. Concealment or Disillusionment Charms were best used when standing still, but, if watchful eyes weren't paying attention, motion could go undetected - a flash in someone's peripheral - a trick of the light - nothing more. The perfect disguise for fleeing the castle.
Fleur couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Henry Black became so important to her, but that mattered little once she came to terms with it. Henry reminded Fleur was her younger sister Gabrielle, freshly eleven and safely attending her Year 1 at Beauxbatons. It was a startling thing to have settled over her heart, but it was a welcome feeling. Fleur had no brothers prior to his arrival, so Henry was a welcome addition to her heart’s load. He was turning out to be a right pain in her ass, though.
The sun was on the rise when Fleur arrived at the village. Fleur had no idea where to search or where she was, even after her outing and exploration with Alan, Céline, and Colette, the layout hadn't sunk in just yet.
The village was beautiful in the early morning light - the shops in all different colours glowed as they were bathed in red and orange of the golden hour. Windows reflected the shifting sky, cauldrons piled in the street gleamed, titles on books lining the storefronts shone in metallic print as beams of sun flooded over them. It was a sight to behold, despite knowing the crowded spaces would grow tiresome if one lived there too long.
Fleur could not call out, the village was still asleep. It was all she could do to walk the streets and peek her head around every corner. Fleur stuck to the main roads hoping for a glimpse of crimson hair and baby blue silk. Fleur decided she didn't much like whoever ‘Monsieur Nott’ was; if he managed to lose Henry in a single afternoon then clearly he couldn't be trusted around Henry!
Speak of the devil, Fleur caught sight of a boy rushing through the streets, winded and panting. He was damp with sweat from head to toe.
“Henry!” Fleur called as loudly as she dared, raising her hands like a Quidditch referee. “Henry! There you are!”
“Fleur?” Henry looked genuinely baffled as he paused, wiping away perspiration on his forehead with his already soaked sleeve. “What're you doing here?”
“What're you doing here?” Fleur hurried over to him and held him close, touching his face and his arms carefully, searchingly. “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you, Henry? Why aren't you at the castle?”
“Fleur–”
“I was worried sick,” Fleur told him firmly. “You missed curfew! Madame was on the warpath.”
“I'm sorry,” Henry winced. “I was… I was delayed.”
“Delayed?” Fleur echoed. “Whatever does that mean?”
“It's…” Henry sighed. “It's a long story.” Henry fell silent - Fleur took the opportunity to examine the boy in front of her.
Henry looked utterly spent. Dirt was smudged across his hands and face, sweat glued his silk shirt to his skin and perspiration clung to his hair from root to ends, smearing red strands across his deceptively unmarked forehead. His eyes, usually so bright and clear, were red-rimmed and sad as he stared resolutely anywhere but Fleur's gaze. It was clear Henry had quite the night.
“Let's get you back to the castle,” said Fleur softly. “You can tell me everything on the way.” Henry offered a weak smile.
“Where would I even start?” They began walking, a gentle yet brisk pace heading out of the village and down the long return path. “So much happened.”
“Well, you could go backwards,” suggested Fleur. “Start with now and work your way back.” Henry blinked slowly.
“I guess…” He chewed his lip. “I just ran like two miles without stopping.”
“Okay, ran from where?”
“Some cave in the mountains? I dunno,” Henry sighed.
“Why were you up in the mountains?”
“Well, see, I was meeting my father, which I previously decided I wouldn't do because I knew it would make me late for curfew!” Henry looked ready to collapse. “But I forgot my bag in the Inn when we started heading back, that's why I wasn't with the group, and then the letter fell out of my bag and suddenly I got so overwhelmed… it just happened.”
“Tell me,” coaxed Fleur. “Tell me about your father.”
Fleur knew little to nothing about Henry's personal life, beyond what he told her about his scar and the secretive nuance behind his past injury, so she listened and absorbed everything Henry laid out for her.
Henry told her that he grew up without his parents, raised instead by three house elves, the goblins at Gringotts, and a handful of Magical portraits prior to Beauxbatons. He never knew his mother or father, presuming they were dead and left him at the Manor to prevent the Ministry from sending him away to be another family's ward. In truth, according to a letter he received just a day prior, his father was alive and hoped to reconnect after so many years apart.
“When I finally got to meet him tonight, he told me he wasn't around because he was in Azkaban all these years,” Henry told her as they walked. “That's why the Black elves raised me. My father was wrongfully accused of murdering his best friend and was sent straight to Azkaban without a trial. There was nobody he could tell or reach to come look after me, and all I had at the Manor were my elves.”
“What is ‘Azkaban’?” asked Fleur. “I can assume some sort of prison?” The UK loved being completely isolated from the rest of the world, having their own little school and prison and life without collaborating or communicating with nearby countries. It was no wonder they had so many wars, they had little to no surrounding support.
“It's similar to Le Charnier des Sorciers,” Henry explained. “The whole of the UK sends their worst criminals to Azkaban for long or life sentences, while minor criminals remain in holding cells at the Ministry for a shorter time.” Fleur nodded slowly.
“That's… different,” said Fleur. Henry just nodded.
Le Charnier des Sorciers: The Wizarding Charnel House, the vault of evil wizards deserving of drawn out, slow deaths. Lethifolds and Boggarts roamed free within Le Charnier des Sorciers, and prisoners trapped in small dungeon cells were easy prey for beasts who thirsted for flesh and shapeshifters who bathed in fear. Some were torn to bits and eaten alive, others went mad from the mental torture of their worst fears manifesting in every corner of their existence for years on end. Every resident was given the death penalty - none who went in ever came out.
“How did he escape?” asked Fleur. “What guards Azkaban? I presume it's wildly different from what we've got at our prison.”
“Dementors,” said Henry. “They patrol the island and suck all the happiness from the residents, which can cause despair and madness after long, constant exposure. They don't Kiss or kill their prisoners, which is why some people don't go there permanently. Unlike Le Charnier des Sorciers.”
“That's why your father is still coherent after escaping prison,” realized Fleur. “Azkaban sounds a lot less severe of a punishment than our prison.”
“It is,” said Henry. “And, right now, I'm glad for it.”
What kept Henry so late into the night, bleeding into the early morn, was catching up with his father. They exchanged stories, discussed family connections, and even just sat together in silence processing everything they absorbed in such a rush. Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban in 1981 - thirteen years of separation meant they had a lot to talk about. One night wasn't possibly enough.
“You realize this can't happen again,” said Fleur. “Not the same way.”
“I know,” said Henry. “But he can't come to the castle. If he's caught they'll send for dementors and have him Kissed - where else could we meet?”
“You can still meet here, but not at night,” Fleur told him. “Next time, how about you meet him straight away? Spend a few hours up in the mountains, then come down for some fun before returning with the rest of us.”
“I couldn't do that today,” said Henry, frustrated. “By the time I changed my mind, it was already time to head back. I couldn't just not go, what if he gave up and never reached out again? What then?”
“I'm not asking you to change what's done,” sighed Fleur. “Just… Next time, let me help you plan it out a little better. Clearly we have to find a dedicated time, and I'm sure your father would be willing to negotiate if it meant seeing you again. Am I right?”
“You'd do that?” Henry's eyes widened as he looked up at her. “But - he's a criminal! If we're caught consorting with him, we could be expelled.”
“From where, Hogwarts? How cute,” mused Fleur. “Madame wouldn't stand for it. Expelling Beauxbatons students is her job, exclusively. She'd punish us, yes, but she'd square up the British Ministry if they tried to expel or arrest us.”
“Thank you!” Henry grabbed her into a tight hug. He was sticky with grime and sweat, but Fleur accepted anyway. “I don't know how I can ever make it up to you, especially since you put yourself at risk coming after me like this.”
“I'm not worried about it,” Fleur held him close, ruffling his damp, sticky hair. “Besides, so long as you meet Madame at eight o'clock it'll all blow over. I told her that you turned in early and simply forgot to sign in.”
“You lied for me?”
“And I'd do it again,” said Fleur with a wide grin. “Didn't I say I'd look out for you? Beauxbatons stands together. We've got you, Henry. I've got you.”
Arriving at Hogwarts was anticlimactic as Fleur escorted Henry to the carriages, instructing him to wash up well before they were to meet Madame Maxime.
“You've only got two hours, so I would highly suggest you don't sleep,” advised Fleur. “Take the time to shower, dress, and relax before meeting Madame. If she catches a whiff of the truth on you, we'll both be in for trouble. So pretend that you spent the night here, sleeping peacefully, and then you may collapse here to moment Madame is finished. We've no classes today, so feel free to sleep the day away if you so choose.”
“Thanks,” said Henry softly. “I don't know how I can repay you for this.”
“You're cute,” said Fleur with a small laugh. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, that deep red hair having dried enough to begin to curl. “Repay me by making it through the Tournament in one piece.”
“A steep price,” said Henry with a smile. “But I'll do my utmost.” Fleur grinned.
“That's all I can ask.”
Henry turned, brushing a small green beetle, iridescent in the way it moved, off the door to the carriage to step inside. He disappeared, leaving Fleur alone on the steps. She sighed.
Having a brother was a lot more work than she'd ever have guessed.
.
Henry was forgiven by his Headmistress easily enough. She was suspicious, sure, but not enough to investigate further; so long as he was safe and had reasonable excuses, Madame Maxime was willing to let it go without a fuss. The real hardship came in the form of Harry's poor goblin guard, Allukk.
“Do you have any idea what they'd do to me if they knew I lost you?” Allukk was shouting, his thick, guttural voice ringing through the empty classroom they hid in. “They'd take off my head for treason! If you were hurt, I'd be charged with ‘neglect leading to the injury of a dependent goblin’ and I would be executed!”
“But I'm not a goblin,” said Henry.
“Try telling Griphook that!” Allukk fumed. “I completely lost my senses agreeing to let you go on that excursion unsupervised. You left my sight for what was meant to be one afternoon and I managed to lose track of you for an entire night.”
“I really appreciate that you took a step back,” said Henry quickly. “Letting me go with my friends was really nice of you.”
“Let me tell you, it won't happen again!” snapped Allukk. “This is what I get for trusting children. I falsely believed you and your friends would be safe in Hogsmeade, and I don't repeat my mistakes.”
“I was safe!” exclaimed Henry.
“And yet I've no way to know or influence that,” said Allukk. “It matters naught where you were or what you did - it matters that I wasn't there.”
“I'm sorry, Allukk,” said Henry. “I won't do it again.”
“You'll be unable to,” said Allukk. “Because you're not leaving my sight again, not for but bathing and sleeping.”
“Can I persuade you to reconsider?”
“No.” Allukk's voice was final.
“Very well,” said Henry. “Then, I suppose, next time you'll have to come with me.”
“Damn straight,” said Allukk. “You don't have a choice, child, as you discover for yourself.” Henry sighed, but nodded.
Henry did, rather reluctantly, understand and acknowledge why Allukk reacted so severely. With the unknown circumstances surrounding the Tournament, and Henry's forced participation, his safety really was a concern. Despite knowing and understanding that, Henry was irritated. He wanted one night with his father, one night to catch up and connect with a man estranged for years, one night to make up for lost time, and, even with Allukk's ire, Henry got that one night. That was worth all the anger and irritation in the world.
“What was it you were doing, child?” Allukk finally lowered his voice. “What was important enough for you to run off from friends and supervisors in such a way?”
Henry chewed his lip pensively before answering. “What do you know about me, Allukk? About where I come from.” Allukk didn't know his past identity, Griphook told Henry that much, but, aside from that, which story was Allukk told to explain Henry's presence within Gringotts?
“I was told you were an unknown child of the Blacks,” said Allukk, eyeing him closely. “Griphook took a liking to you upon your first visit, and from there onwards you were a staple within the Bank. Every goblin knew of the small Black child wandering the great halls, sponsored by Griphook and his associates.”
“Well, I'm not as unknown as they claimed,” said Henry. “My father is Sirius Black, the guy that supposedly killed Peter Pettigrew and was sent to Azkaban.”
“The innocent escapee?” Allukk's crooked eyebrows shot up.
“The very same,” said Henry. “He was hiding out in some cave outside Hogsmeade, and he sent me a letter asking to meet. I never knew my father as a person, he was in Azkaban and I was being raised by elves and goblins without him. When I realized I truly had a chance… I couldn't pass it up.”
“You were with your father all night,” said Allukk slowly. “Catching up, a reunion of sorts.” Henry nodded. “And it had to be done outside the castle, for they are ever vigilant in their search for the only ever Azkaban escapee.” Again, Henry nodded. “Interesting…”
“I didn't even plan to go, at first,” admitted Henry. “But when it hit me that it might be my only shot, I had to go. Yes, I broke curfew, yes, I should've told someone, but I don't regret it at all. I got to meet my father - no punishment can take the joy from that experience away from me.”
Allukk assessed him closely, beady eyes extremely pensive. He was clearly sorting through Henry's words searching for lies, finding none, and piecing together how serious the situation was. No spells or coercion was used, nobody threatened him or attacked him, it was just Henry running off to meet his father in a cave in the mountains way too far from the castle to meet his curfew even remotely, promptly losing track of time the moment they laid eyes on each other. Allukk saw this, and he seemed to understand.
“Next time I go too,” said Allukk, his voice serious and harsh. “I have no quarrel with Sirius Black if he has only the best intentions towards you, as he is innocent in the eyes of Gringotts and has never before crossed a goblin. But! That will change immediately if he wrongs you in any way.”
“I understand,” said Henry. Relief crashed through him like a wave. “Thank you, Allukk. I promise I'll let you know if I get another letter, and you can come with me from now on.” Allukk nodded firmly, sharply.
“It is settled then,” said Allukk. “But if Griphook ever finds out about last night–”
“He won't!” exclaimed Henry. Allukk nodded again, just as sharp, just as firm.
“Good.”
.
Henry slept for hours once everything was settled. By the time he woke up it was well past lunch, bleeding into the late afternoon with early evening on the rise. Despite the sleep, Henry felt heavy with exhaustion. His feet hurt from the running and his head from the rush of it all, but it hurt deep in his chest as well, a different kind of pain. It was still surreal to him that he met his father, almost unbelievable.
Students were relaxing as the day without classes passed, and Henry found himself wandering out into the grounds towards the lake. It was peaceful in the soft sunlight, naught but the whispering wind to be heard. Henry settled beneath a large tree overlooking the lake - he smiled.
His peace didn't last long, however, as a slim yet toned figure emerged from the lake, climbing from the edge up the banks. It was a boy, toweling out sopping wet hair, shivering slightly. Henry imagined it wasn't a nice time to swim - the water was no doubt freezing. The figure moved closer as he made his way up the slopes from the beach.
It was Viktor Krum. Sallow skin and cropped hair, the wet material of his red shirt clung to his muscular yet small frame. Henry stared as Krum grew closer. Krum stopped when he spotted Henry under the tree.
“‘I was sat there,’” said Krum quietly, continuing his approach. “‘That is being my stuff.’”
“Eh?” Henry blinked. Looking around, he spotted a small pocketwatch and a small book hidden in the grass only a few feet from Henry. “‘Oh, apologies, I did not see it.’”
“‘It is fine,’” said Krum with a huff. He tossed his towel on the ground. “‘I was not here to need it yet.’”
“‘Right…’” said Henry awkwardly. “‘Uh, Krum?’”
“‘Hm?’” Krum raised an eyebrow.
“‘I thought you were angry with me,’” admitted Henry. “‘You did seem angry after the Task.’”
“‘I was… I suppose angry, yes,’” said Krum with a frown. “‘But that is because you are young and should be disqualified. You do not belong with this Tournament.’”
“‘I know,’” said Henry. “‘I am sorry if I came off as a bit… flippant when we first met. I am not enjoying the Tournament, I do not want to be here.’”
“‘It does not seem that is true,’” said Krum. “‘You do not seem angry that you are here. You seem to be happy.’”
“‘I am angry,’” sighed Henry. “‘But rude behavior towards my competitors and situation in general would make my school look poor. I would rather seem shallow and flippant to them, which will be only reflecting on me, than be hurting the reputation of Beauxbatons.’"
“‘I see,’” Krum nodded slowly. “‘It is very noble of you to put your school above your personal social standing.’”
“‘We all do our parts,’” said Henry with a little shrug. “‘I have noticed you are not much loving the attention either. Though, Karkaroff is.’”
“‘That is true,’” said Krum. “‘I am honored to be chosen to represent my school, but I did not do it for my own glory of a person, or for many admiring. I have fame already from the Quidditch I play. I want to do my school proud, that is it. It is hard for people to understand the difference.’” Henry tilted his head - he didn't know Krum played Quidditch.
“‘That makes sense,’” said Henry, deciding this wasn't the time to bring up their compatible hobbies. “‘Fleur says much the same.’”
“‘But you do not,’” said Krum, prompting.
“‘Yeah,’” confirmed Henry. “‘I would rather be back at Beauxbatons with my friends. I miss it deeply.’”
“‘Tell me of your Beauxbatons,’” Krum sat down in the grass beside him, resting the towel under his damp swimming trunks, looking at Henry with interest. “‘What kind of place is it?’”
“‘Beauxbatons is centered in a deep valley in the Pyrenees Mountains. It is a Palace. White and gold; when the sun hits, light makes it almost glow,’" Henry leaned back against the tree, smiling softly. “‘The outsides are so green it can only be by magic. We have a lake, but it is man-made, not natural. We swim in it sometimes, but people most of the time go down to watch the white swan glide across the surface. It is so… peaceful.’”
Henry remembered the first time he saw it - he'd been utterly captivated by the look of it all. With his new home and new name, Henry was completely out of his depth with every aspect of his new life. Beauxbatons felt so natural compared to everything else, like he finally found the place he was really meant to be after not knowing for so long.
“‘You must very much love it there,’” said Krum.
“‘I do,’" Henry laughed. “‘That is where I belong more than anywhere. What of you? What is Durmstrang like?’”
“‘It is a castle, like the Hogwarts,’" Krum nodded towards the castle. “‘We only have four floors, smaller, but the outdoors are very much larger. There is not much daylight in the winters, so they are enjoyable very little, but in the summers we go flying every day. There are many mountains and lakes to see. It is a beautiful place, Durmstrang.’”
“‘Where is it?’" Henry tilted his head. “‘You accept students from everywhere, do you not?’”
“‘We are near Königsberg. Though it is now called Kaliningrad by the Muggles,’” Krum told him. “‘It was originally belonging to the Germans when the castle was built, but now it is part of Russia. We do not care, we are not part of any of that. The castle is unplottable, hidden from the Muggles, so it makes not a difference. But we are also hiding from many wizards too, sometimes that can be much harder.’”
“‘Hm. That must only add to your reputation,’” said Henry. “‘You are so mysterious all of the time, lots of the people say it is because you do the Dark Arts there.’”
“‘An unfair rumor indeed,’” Krum scowled. “‘We have a very wide scope of learning at Durmstrang, spells and curses of many kind, but it is not explained in a proper light to the people who talk. Some say Dark, but do not really know of what they speak.’”
“‘I understand,’” Henry nodded, “‘You ignore it usually, yes?’”
“‘Yes. Or we do not talk of our schooling at all, so people can not misunderstanding our words,’” said Krum, leaning back onto his palms. “‘It does not matter, it seems to me. Karkaroff does still shush us when we try to speak of it, if he were here now he would stop me from talking of Durmstrang, I know that.’”
“‘So you do not care that he does not want you talking?’” Henry raised his eyebrows.
“‘He is very…’” Krum frowned, pausing for a moment. “‘Pushy. Yes. Karkaroff is very pushy. He usually is getting what he wants, and what he wants here is the mystery of our school. If that mystery is gone, he would feel exposed and unhappy.’”
“‘That is odd to me,’” huffed Henry. “‘Madame Maxime does not mind us talking about the Palace, or where we are, or what we do. We are a very accepting school; some kids do not live anywhere near Beauxbatons, but they applied and were allowed. They know Beauxbatons was for them.’”
“‘You speak with experience,’” said Krum.
“‘Yes, I do,’” Henry nodded. “‘I saw a paper ad for the three schools, and Beauxbatons spoke to me. I could talk of Beauxbatons all day long and not tire of it.’”
“‘What would you talk about?"
“‘Everything,’” Henry sighed happily, looking up at the light filtering through the branches and leaves with a smile. “‘My Common Room, the Quidditch Pitch, the white swan on the lake, the classes, the expansive grounds and plateau, all of it.’”
“‘Tell me about the grounds,’” Krum said then, tilting his head. “‘Tell me of… plateau? What is plateau?’”
“‘Plateau is a flat part of land with little in the way of slopes or hills,’” Henry told him. “‘The Palace sits in the valley, surrounded by tall tall mountains, and plateau rests at the lowest point.’”
“‘Hm,’” Krum nodded. “‘Tell me of your plateau, then, and of the grounds.’”
“‘Well, they are all magically sculptured and made, carved by the wands of many great witches and wizards.’”
Henry wasn't sure how long they sat there, but he poured out all his thoughts to his fellow champion. Henry talked and talked, Krum occasionally asking questions or clarifications, but otherwise Henry just ranted with a smile on his face and excitement in his voice. And when he was done Krum spoke of Durmstrang, telling him as best he could about how much he loved his own school.
Apparently Durmstrang was a strict school, more so than Beauxbatons' neatly organized structure, but the students there liked that. It gave them a constant to abide by and acknowledge, and the majority of students there didn't bother rebelling because they didn't see any real reason to. Though Krum did say Karkaroff was more of a dictator than a Headmaster; he very quietly admitted he and his fellow schoolmates were glad Karkaroff wasn't a Professor, they worried the man would be too harsh to learn anything from directly.
They stayed there talking until the sky changed colors and the sun sat just above the horizon. Eventually they were called to dinner, so they made their way up to the castle where they parted to join their separate circle of friends for the meal. But Henry felt they'd made real progress towards a sort of friendly acquaintanceship - an unexpected development, but a welcome one.