Chapter 189

Early the next morning, Harry and Ron encountered Zhang Qiu on their way to the food cart.

"The cart isn't running—he told us to go to Beauxbatons' dining hall for breakfast," she said.

"Not bad," Harry nodded, and the three left the train, heading toward the palace. Along the way, they noticed many Beauxbatons students chattering excitedly, each with bright, eager expressions, as if some great good fortune was about to happen.

"Can you understand French?" Ron whispered.

"Not clearly—they're speaking too fast," Harry said, embarrassedly scratching his head.

The three wandered confusedly among the cheerful crowd until, just as breakfast was nearly over, Harry faintly caught a few key words.

"It sounds like they're saying there's no class today?" he said uncertainly.

"That's right," a Beauxbatons girl said in English, "It's Halloween, so we have the day off—and there's a market on the lawn. Are you going to check it out?"

"Perfect," Luo Si said. "Dumbledore really ought to take notes—we never get Halloween off."

"Not only that, but accidents always happen," Zhang Qiu agreed, nodding.

"Then let's go see the market?" Harry suggested.

"Not yet—the market doesn't open until ten," the girl explained. "You could tour the campus first."

"Could you show us around?" Ron asked quietly.

"Wait a bit—I have other things to do," the girl smiled, then picked up her books and left.

"Oh right, I still have to submit my name," Harry said, scanning the surroundings until he spotted the Goblet of Fire and remembered he had yet to do something.

Perhaps Madame Maxime had emphasized that only the contestant could submit their own name to tell Harry he still had time to change his mind. But Harry had already decided—he would enter the tournament and stand face-to-face with Voldemort in duel.

"Hey, Harry, I've thought about it," Ron said hesitantly. "Maybe I won't put my name in."

"What's wrong, Ron?"

"I think you need someone who's fully on your side. Becoming a champion won't be easy—you'll need help. I can help with meals, taking notes, and gathering information once the tasks start."

"I hope you don't think I'm backing out," he added awkwardly.

This wasn't like Ron. Harry was puzzled, but he didn't argue—he stepped forward and hugged him.

"Alright, I'm not going either," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "I was never destined to be the champion anyway."

"Fine, I respect your decisions," Harry sighed softly, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began writing his name.

As he crossed the wall of fire and approached the Goblet of Fire, it suddenly struck him: Ron wanted to be his "personal assistant"—which meant he'd have plenty to talk about with Hermione, who would also be a "personal assistant." But Harry didn't mind the decision. He knew Ron's chances of being chosen as the second champion were virtually nonexistent; better to let him spend more time with Hermione.

As for Zhang Qiu, she'd long treated her mystical divinations as guiding principles. Harry had no intention of trying to talk her out of it.

After submitting his name, the three left the hall and wandered the campus. Beauxbatons' layout differed from Hogwarts', but the essentials were much the same: beyond the palace-like main buildings and ornamental potted plants, and its signature ice sculptures, it had a vast lawn for student recreation, a Quidditch pitch, a forest officially off-limits, and a river winding through the trees toward the distance.

The river made a sharp bend near Beauxbatons, making it look to Harry like a lake at first—and the Durmstrang ship was moored at that bend, appearing from afar like a rock in a pond.

"How does this compare to the Black Lake?" Harry asked.

"Lakes in forests always remind me of Avalon," Ron said wistfully.

"It's not a lake," a female voice suddenly interrupted, startling them. Harry turned to see the same girl who had spoken to them at breakfast.

"Oh, you're free to show us around now?" Harry said. "By the way, I'm Harry Potter, this is Ron Wei Silai, and this is Zhang Qiu."

"Close enough. I'm Donna Noble," the girl nodded.

Harry now took a closer look at her: she had slightly curly red hair and emerald-green eyes. Not exceptionally beautiful, but radiating strong confidence—her gaze sharp, keen, and cool.

Nice. Maybe my mom was like this when she was in school, Harry thought silently.

"Wait, you're saying this isn't a lake?" Ron still seemed stuck on the idea.

"No matter how wide this stretch is—even wide enough to dock a ship—it's still a river," Donna said. "The only water source in the forest is the river."

"Is that a thing?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"When in Rome," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "Call it a river, and it's a river. By the way, what's this river called?"

"Meiledihe—or in English, Singing River," Donna said, glancing at Zhang Qiu. "In Chinese, it's Songjiang."

"You probably won't believe this, but Songjiang was a famous bandit leader," Zhang Qiu said helplessly.

For the entire morning, Harry and the others stayed with Donna. The girl was fluent in English and French, and knew a fair amount of Chinese—remarkably well-read, which left Harry both astonished and deeply impressed.

Donna took them to the ice sculpture exhibit, introduced them to famous Beauxbatons alumni—including the alchemist Nicolas Flamel, which made Harry feel at home—then showed them the Quidditch pitch and other grounds. In various gardens, they occasionally spotted student couples; in a rainbow-colored flowerbed, two boys were kissing. Finally, Donna led them to a vast lawn where the market had already begun.

"Oh, I need to check out the marble—Roman marble, amazing," Donna said, walking toward a stall piled with large stones, which puzzled Harry. "You two explore on your own. We'll meet again."

"So what should we check out first?" Harry looked around. Most vendors were adults, said to come from the nearby village of "Buskat," but many students were present too—mostly seventh-years selling used textbooks or other school supplies.

"How about some butterbeer?" Ron pointed to a tent nearby with a sign reading "Winking Weasel."

As they settled into the warm tent, Harry couldn't help exclaiming: "You recognized this as a pub at a glance—and they actually sell butterbeer."

"Butterbeer isn't surprising—they knew Hogwarts students would come and were waiting to make money," Zhang Qiu said.

"What do the kids here drink, then?" Ron looked around. "Strawberry yogurt?"

"Try some later. Oh, I noticed a stall selling prank items," Harry said. "Let's check it out—buy a few. Might give Fred and George some ideas."

"That's perfect," Ron said eagerly. "I've always dreamed of using gear they've never seen to prank them hard. We've got to check it out—and see if there's anything like Honeydukes here."

They spent the entire afternoon at the market and only returned to the hall just before dinner. Harry wore wolf ears, Zhang Qiu had vampire fangs, and Ron had a whole jack-o'-lantern placed over his head. They did this because other Beauxbatons students had gone further: some wore bedsheets as ghosts, others grew dragon scales, dressed as zombies, or wore witches' robes slit up to the thigh.

"Now, children, dinner is about to begin," Madame Maxime said. "Remove all your costumes. If any remain after fifteen minutes, I'll treat you as real monsters."

Students laughed and adjusted their appearances. Harry noticed a skeleton at the teachers' table casting a spell on itself—it had just grown the face of Donald Fontroy.

"I told you Hogwarts is too strict," Ron said, spotting Hermione with her skin painted bone-white, helping an Ilvermorny student remove makeup. "We never did anything like this."

"Didn't your headmaster dress as a mad witch?" Donna appeared beside them. "Look at his flashy robe."

"Oh, he wears that every day," Ron said, unimpressed.

"Well, that's not the most embarrassing thing," Donna shrugged. "Karkaroff dresses like a normal person every single day."

Harry couldn't help laughing. Karkaroff, a former Death Eater, now wore a white lab coat, pretending to be fascinated by Halloween.

"Look at Krum," Zhang Qiu pointed to a tall boy with electrodes stuck to his forehead. "That's funny."

Once dinner began, Harry's attention shifted to the new, ever-changing dishes. He had little interest in the Goblet's champions—his only real curiosity was who would be chosen as Hogwarts' champion.