Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 136: Opening Salvo (III) (CH - 156)

Beauxbatons School of Magic was counted among the seven great academies—a prestigious institution known across the magical world for its high standards in magical education.

Much like Hogwarts, this school boasts a grand, castle-like structure with intricate carvings and towering spires. It is also cloaked by powerful, age-old enchantments, keeping it hidden from the eyes of the everyday world.

The exact location is an "open secret," just like the other seven elite schools. Those in the know understand that it's nestled somewhere in the picturesque Pyrenees Mountains of southern France—surrounded by scenery so breathtaking, it easily outshines its rivals.

It's said to have lush gardens, carefully tended by both magic and skilled hands, along with wide, grassy fields, quiet forests, and even a calm, glassy lake that adds even more charm to the place. And all of it lies within a ring of towering mountains, as if nature itself had raised a fortress to protect the school.

Well, it wasn't an exaggeration at all. That was the thought running through the minds of the Hogwarts students as they took in everything they had seen from the sky—and now, on the ground, watching through the windows as the aircraft finally parked.

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Today, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic buzzed with an energy far beyond its usual charm.

The school was hosting this year's Inter-School Quidditch Tournament, an event that, in just a short year, had already captured the attention of the entire wizarding world, and perhaps, even beyond.

To accommodate the excitement, the great lawn beside the majestic castle had been transformed into a sprawling reception area. Bright magical banners fluttered in the air, each one proudly displaying the colors and emblems of the participating schools. Above, lanterns drifted gently, casting a soft, warm glow that lingered even in the daylight, adding a touch of enchantment to the lively atmosphere.

Students and staff from Durmstrang Institute and Koldovstoretz School of Magic had already arrived and were gathered, waiting for the final delegation. They didn't have to wait long, but when they finally showed up, the way it happened left them completely speechless—every last one of them.

After all, it's not every day you see a 200-foot mechanical titan of Muggle engineering rumble through the clouds, circle around like a predator with deafening roars louder than a Hungarian Horntail, descend while reshaping entire mountains, and then finally land with grace before coming to a stop as obediently as the most well-trained owl.

The massive machine's wings stretched nearly as long as its body and rose fifty feet high. After that bold arrival, it now rested quietly at the edge of the grassy field. Clearly, something like this didn't belong in a place surrounded by mountains and magic—yet there it was, impossible to ignore while proudly declaring who its master was.

Everyone quickly gathered nearby. When they finally took a good look at the intricate markings and the majestic Hogwarts crest etched into the machine's iron skin, they couldn't help but feel envious.

Bold. Arrogance. That's what everyone felt as they stared at the behemoth. Not in a bad way, though—it was the kind of arrogance that came from pure majesty, the kind that had earned the right to be.

Then, as a heavy click echoed through the air, every head turned toward the front of the titan—where the main exit door had just hissed.

A hush fell over the crowd as the door slow opened. All eyes turned.

The first figure to appear was a woman—not old, but not young either. She had a strong jaw, sharp black hair, and an air of command that clung to her like a cloak. She wore a long, storm-grey coat with subtle silver embroidery and high black boots. There was something military about her posture—straight-backed and steady, as if she were ready to march into battle.

On either side of her stood two men. One was middle-aged, with sharp features and a knowing grin. The other was younger, handsome at first glance, with a calm face and an observant gaze. Both wore tailored black suits, matching long coats, and sleek hats that caught the light just enough to hint at wealth and magic.

Professor McGonagall turned to the younger man and gave him a look that was half reproach, half reluctant admiration.

"I don't know whether to scold you or praise you, Professor Caesar..." A small smile tugged at her lips. "But I must admit... this is certainly more... dramatic than what I had in mind."

Maverick shrugged with a grin. "It's not my idea to make an impression, Professor. You and the headmaster asked... I just delivered."

Steven, standing on the other side of McGonagall, smiled and shook his head in quiet amusement. Though their arrival looked thrilling from the outside—what with the sheer size of the airbus and all—he, seated comfortably inside, wasn't all that impressed. A seasoned Quidditch player, he was used to dizzying speeds and sharp turns; the flight itself had been nothing new.

What had truly impressed him, though, was the landing. The way the mountains bent and reshaped themselves like softened clay to make room for the airbus—now that had been something else entirely. It had once again shattered his understanding of just what his young friend was truly capable of.

Still smiling, he leaned forward and peered down past the open door. "So, how are we getting down from here?" he asked, glancing at the two beside him. The exit hovered at least five meters above the ground. There were no stairs, no platform—and this was definitely no airport to have jet bridges.

Hearing Steven's query, Maverick turned to McGonagall and raised an eyebrow. "Shall I?"

But McGonagall shook her head, a small twitch of her lips betraying her amusement. "No, no. Let me..." She paused, then flashed a smile before adding, "What's the word you used? Ah, yes—let me flex a little."

Maverick couldn't help but chuckle, gesturing with a casual sweep of his hand. "By all means." Saying that, he turned to face the students gathered behind him.

Before him stood the Hogwarts team—fourteen players dressed in sleek black and grey suits, each wearing matching sunglasses and backpacks. Lined up neatly behind them were the students who had come to support the team, sporting stylish Hogwarts-themed jerseys. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

"Professor, are we ready…?"

Hearing the voice from the front, Maverick nodded toward the source, Oliver Wood.

"Yes, Mr Wood." He then lifted his head to address the group.

"Listen up! This isn't Hogwarts—we're guests here, so behave." He paused, then grinned. "But don't you dare bow your heads. We're not here to kiss boots. We're the reigning champions. Do not forget! So walk out there like the crown still sits on your heads. Let them feel who just landed."

ROARR! The students all raised their fists to the sky all in unison.

McGonagall's lips twitched. Honestly, the way Maverick had fired them up, you would think they were off to fight dragons, not play Quidditch. She had half a mind to smack him with her wand right then and there... but held back. He did have a point. They were the reigning champions, after all. Why should they give face?

Brushing aside the weird thoughts, she slipped into character. Flexing 101: be unapologetically pretentious. Down below, she spotted the three deans, along with a sea of students, their wide-eyed expressions animatedly discussing her ship. That's right, she had already claimed the aircraft as Hogwarts' property, and in her mind, she was ready to convince Albus to arrange the budget to buy it from Maverick. Of course, she had no clue how much an aircraft like that would cost, not to mention whether it even belonged to Maverick in the first place.

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