Even if he said it out loud, it wouldn't change anything.
The fragnt of Voldemort's soul had already beco entangled with Harry's own. Even Arthur couldn't guarantee that he could strip it away without harming Harry in the process.
Telling him the truth would only burden Harry with needless anxiety.
Just knowing that he shared so kind of connection with Voldemort had already left Harry visibly uneasy. Arthur seriously suspected that if he revealed the full truth, Harry might not be able to take it and pass out on the spot.
No matter how troubled Harry felt, the Hogwarts Express continued its steady journey forward.
Before long, the train arrived at its destination.
This year, Hogwarts required students to arrive earlier than usual. Most young witches and wizards had no idea why.
Only those who knew that the Triwizard Tournant was about to be revived understood the reason—Hogwarts needed ti to prepare for the arrival of the other two magical schools.
To Arthur, it felt exactly like his past life: whenever school inspectors or high-ranking officials were coming, students were ordered to clean the place in advance.
It was said that after finishing his duty of guiding the first-years, Hagrid would also be responsible for welcoming Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
More accurately, welcoming their transport.
Beauxbatons arrived in magnificent carriages pulled by winged horses.
As for Durmstrang Institute, their students traveled by ship—an alchemically modified vessel capable of subrging underwater, neatly avoiding the notice of Muggles.
Speaking of Durmstrang, it was actually a rather fascinating school.
Located in the far north of Europe, it accepted international students from as far away as Bulgaria.
For example—
The star Seeker who shone brightly during the Quidditch World Cup, Viktor Krum.
Yes.
That world-famous player was still a student.
The idea felt surreal—like a high schooler playing in the World Cup during sumr break, winning second place, and then heading back to school when term started.
Back to Durmstrang itself.
Despite accepting international students, Durmstrang never enrolled Muggle-borns. Although it was technically coeducational, the gender ratio was catastrophically skewed.
There were barely any female students—at present, the upper years reportedly had none at all.
It was hard to imagine how a school founded by a witch had turned into what was essentially an all-boys academy.
Perhaps it had sothing to do with their attitude toward Dark Magic.
Durmstrang didn't shy away from it—in fact, they treated it as a legitimate subject.
Arthur also recalled that Lucius Malfoy had once seriously considered sending Draco there.
Fortunately, Narcissa objected to sending her son so far away, and the plan was dropped.
Otherwise, with Draco's delicate build and handso face, he might have ended up as the type who mysteriously "drops soap" in communal baths.
Whenever Durmstrang ca up, Arthur couldn't help but think of the Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.
Add in keywords like Bulgaria and all-boys school, and… well, so very questionable images ford in his mind.
As a result, Arthur found it impossible to look at Durmstrang normally.
As a side note, Durmstrang's current headmaster was Igor Karkaroff.
A forr Death Eater.
The word "forr" didn't an he'd reford like Snape—it ant he'd betrayed them.
After being captured, Karkaroff struck a deal with Barty Crouch Sr., head of the Departnt of Magical Law Enforcent. In exchange for his freedom, he sold out the nas of other Death Eaters during the trials.
A full-blown betrayal.
More than half of the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban were there because of him.
Snape's na had even appeared on that list.
If Dumbledore hadn't personally vouched for Snape, claiming he was a planted spy, Snape might have been rotting in Azkaban as well.
For a forr Death Eater to rise to the position of headmaster of Durmstrang—Karkaroff clearly had his ways.
Compared to that, Snape was still just a Potions professor after all these years.
He'd finally beco Headmaster—only for it to be a one-year trial version.
And that trial version expired because Snape himself chose not to renew it.
Following Arthur's suggestion, Snape had called Dumbledore back.
Partly to guard against Voldemort—and partly because the upcoming Triwizard Tournant needed the real Headmaster to hold the fort.
With Durmstrang covered, it was ti to talk about Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
Unlike Durmstrang, Beauxbatons had a predominantly female student body.
The school was located in the Pyrenees, boasting a breathtaking palace surrounded by magically conjured lawns and mountain scenery.
Part of its construction had been funded by Nicolas and Perenelle Flal, and in gratitude, the magnificent fountain on campus was nad after them.
Beauxbatons' headmistress was Mada Olympe Maxi.
Unlike Hagrid, she was sharp-minded, elegant in deanor, and deeply sensitive about her mixed giant heritage—sothing she strongly disliked being ntioned.
After settling their luggage, the Hogwarts students had so free ti before the welco feast.
Before long, however, all attention was drawn to the arrival of the other two schools.
Beauxbatons descended from the sky in their winged carriages.
Outside the castle, Hagrid stood on the lawn holding up two signs, guiding them where to land.
Monts later, the surface of the Black Lake erupted as a massive ship erged—Durmstrang's vessel.
Once docked, Karkaroff led his students ashore, Viktor Krum at the forefront.
But Hogwarts students hardly spared them a glance.
All eyes were fixed on the Beauxbatons procession.
More precisely—on the girl at the very front.
Her na was Fleur Delacour.
Her pride didn't co across as unpleasant—she had the looks to match, and a quarter Veela bloodline.
That alone explained why she captivated the crowd so effortlessly.
Only a handful of people remained unaffected.
Hagrid was one of them.
Compared to Fleur, he found Mada Maxi far more appealing.
Arthur was also looking in Beauxbatons' direction—but not at Fleur.
He was staring at the Abraxan winged horses pulling the carriages.
Golden-bodied, silver-maned, eyes blazing red—each one massive, nearly elephant-sized.
Arthur's collector instincts imdiately flared.
All he could think about was how to get a couple of them into his Zen Garden.
Unfortunately, Hermione misunderstood his gaze.
Seeing Arthur staring so intently, she puffed up her cheeks and asked,
"Cousin, don't tell you've been srized by that girl?"
Arthur turned and flicked her cheek lightly.
"What are you thinking? She's not prettier than Ranni, and she's definitely not cuter than you. Why would I be interested?"
"Then why were you staring so hard?" Hermione pressed.
"I was looking at the winged horses," Arthur replied.
"Don't you think they're beautiful? Don't you want to know what it feels like to ride one through the sky?"
Hearing that, Hermione realized she'd misunderstood.
With Arthur's collector habits, those horses were more tempting than Fleur.
She found them beautiful too—flying on one would be incredible.
And then her imagination ran wild.
Arthur holding her from behind, the two of them riding a winged horse together…
Suddenly, Hermione wanted those horses in the Zen Garden even more than Arthur did.
She leaned in and whispered,
"How about we invite two of them to our Zen Garden tonight?"
She emphasized the word invite.
Arthur imdiately caught the implication.
Once invited in, they probably wouldn't be going back.
He tapped her forehead lightly.
"We have no grudge against them. Why steal their horses? The wizarding world isn't short on winged horses."
Hermione pouted.
"You didn't have a grudge against the Ministry either—and you still took their stuff."
"That's different," Arthur retorted.
"The Ministry was incompetent. They let Dentors run wild at Hogwarts and nearly hurt Harry. I was helping him get revenge.
"And besides, those artifacts in the Departnt of Mysteries sat there for decades without results. I just put them to better use."
Finally, Arthur said firmly,
"Rember this—we don't take other people's things for no reason. That's a bad habit."
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