Woohoo! Chapter 200! 🎉

I can’t believe we actually made it this far. Thank you all for sticking around. You’re all the reason this thing keeps going, and I genuinely love seeing every comment, theory, and unhinged speculation you throw my way. (Seriously. Comment please!!!)

Here’s to the next hundred!

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On the evening of the 30th, the entire school was herded out before lunch to wait for the guests. The sun was behind the clouds, and the air had that creeping cold that said winter was nearly here.

McGonagall was trying to wrangle the students into something resembling order, first years to the front, oldest to the back. It didn’t work. They looked less like a welcoming committee and more like bowling pins about to be knocked flat.

The students were murmuring among themselves, guessing how the guests might arrive.

“Broomsticks,” someone muttered.

“Portkeys?” someone else offered.

“Will they apparate?”

“You can’t apparate inside Hogwarts, idiot,” came the sharp correction from somewhere in the middle.

They weren’t going to arrive quietly. That much was certain.

Then the sky growled.

Cassian stood off to the side, coat collar turned up against the wind, fingers lightly brushing Bathsheda’s hand. She had the other pressed over the tattoo on her wrist, calming Ash down before things got twitchy. He could feel the hum of magic pulsing under her skin.

“They’re not coming on a dragon,” he said under his breath.

She gave a small nod.

Ash didn’t like trespassers in her “territory,” and Dumbledore had already been warned to change the first task because of that. Master Ji wouldn’t risk flying something territorial straight over Hogwarts unless he wanted a mid-air brawl and a ruined lawn. And Dragons were Fenghuang’s guardians. Protecting the school for generations. Cassian doubted Master Ji could take one for a ride.

A shape came into view above the treeline. Massive. Four-legged. Antlers cutting a silhouette against the clouds. It moved with slow, almost floating steps through the air, dragging something behind it.

Students craned their necks. One of them pointed.

“It’s pulling something!”

When it cleared the fog near the cliffs, the object became clearer, a huge carriage, the size of a cottage, tethered by runed chains to the creature’s harness.

A shout rose from the middle of the crowd.

“It’s a Qilin!” Cho Chang called.

Gasps rolled through the crowd in a wave. Even the older students had gone still.

The Qilin drifted lower, its hooves touching the grass. Gold and white shimmered along its mane and horns, and its breath steamed in long curls in the cold.

The carriage touched down gently. Doors swung open before it fully settled.

Master Ji stepped out first, smiling as if he’d been waiting all year for this moment. His long white eyebrows bounced off the edge of his robe, same design as always, clouds and dragons in a slow-motion brawl across the silk, though this time the whole thing was dyed a rich, imperial purple.

He beamed at Dumbledore as the Headmaster approached. Both bowed at the same time.

Behind Ji, students began filing out of the carriage in even rows. They wore red uniforms, neatly pressed, the golden shape of a phoenix stitched across each chest, wings spread mid-flight. Not a single one broke formation. They stood tall, quiet, waiting for the signal.

“Fenghuang’s finest,” Cassian murmured from the side. “And not a single robe out of line. I can’t get our lot to tuck their shirts in.”

Bathsheda gave a quiet hum beside him.

Dumbledore extended a hand. “Welcome again, my friend.”

Ji took it with both of his, grinning wide. “And thank you again for the hospitality, old friend.” His voice booming. “My students are very much looking forward to the experience.”

Somewhere near the front of the Hogwarts crowd, one of the first-years sneezed violently. Ji glanced over, chuckled, and pulled a wrapped sweet from his sleeve, flicking it with a twist of his fingers. The sweet zipped through the air and landed squarely in the boy’s hand. The child blinked like he’d just been knighted.

Cassian muttered, “He’s showing off.”

Ji stepped forward and addressed the Hogwarts students directly. “We have travelled far, from a place where autumn turns the sky copper and the rivers run warmer than the wind. Fenghuang School is proud to join you for this exchange.”

The students bowed behind him in perfect sync. Hogwarts had no idea what to do with that.

Half the crowd attempted a bow, some clapped, a few cheered, then all of it dissolved into a confused shuffle when they realised no one else was doing the same.

McGonagall dragged a hand down her face like she regretted her entire profession. Flitwick was trying very hard not to laugh and doing a terrible job of it, his shoulders were shaking behind his hands.

Ji just chuckled, eyes crinkling. “What a brilliant new generation rising in your school, Albus.”

Dumbledore, entirely unfazed, smiled. “They all have so much potential.”

Ji turned slightly, eyes landing on Cassian and Bathsheda standing off to the side. “Ah, there you are.”

Cassian gave a half-salute with two fingers. Bathsheda dipped her head politely.

Ji turned to his students, raising a hand. “These two refused to join our school, so I expect you to show your potential and perhaps convince them to reconsider. Who knows, maybe we’ll poach them eventually.”

Dumbledore rolled his eyes skyward like he’d heard that one before and wouldn’t mind never hearing it again.

Flitwick took the Fenghuang students. He chatted the whole way, and a few of the students looked unsure if they were meant to respond or just keep marching.

Master Ji stood with Dumbledore near the front, the two of them chatting like they were waiting for the rest of the guests to wander in fashionably late. Behind them, the Qilin stood still as a statue, steam curling from its nostrils, mane drifting, threads of cloud caught in a breeze.

Hagrid was vibrating. Actually vibrating. He barreled forward with a noise that could only be described as a squeal.

“Merlin’s beard, look at yeh! Look at yeh!”

The Qilin dipped its head, graceful as anything, and Hagrid nearly melted on the spot.

Master Ji laughed. “He likes you already. Come, come. Touch him, carefully. He does not appreciate sudden noise.”

Hagrid’s idea of “carefully” still made the grass quake, but he reached a massive hand toward the Qilin’s neck with surprising gentleness. The creature tolerated it, even leaned in slightly.

Ji nodded. “He is very independent, so I will ask him to go back. He will return when it is time to collect us.” He glanced at Dumbledore. “Please do not trouble yourselves with preparing a place for him. But of course,” he added, looking back at Hagrid, “you may get to know him before he flies.”

Hagrid made a noise somewhere between a laugh, a sob, and a broken accordion. “Thank yeh! Thank yeh, sir! Oh, he’s beautiful, look at him.”

Dumbledore checked the sky. “The Beauxbatons party should be arriving momentarily.”

Right on cue, the wind shifted, warm, oddly floral, like someone had uncorked perfume over the lake. The clouds parted.

A massive chariot burst through, pulled by six winged Abraxans, huge beasts, pale gold, broad-winged, and looking like they’d stepped out of an overdramatic tapestry. The chariot itself gleamed, lacquered blue.

Someone near the front whispered, “They’re enormous.”

The chariot circled once before descending in a lazy arc. The hooves hit the grass with a heavy thud. Madame Maxime stepped out, draped in blue robes glittering like frost.

She hugged Dumbledore awkwardly. “Albus.”

“Madame Maxime. A pleasure as always.”

Beauxbatons students poured out behind her, robes straight, hair perfect.

Master Ji greeted Madame Maxime with a bright smile and a short bow. She returned it, then turned to watch the students as they exchanged greetings. Sprout walked out from the group and began shepherding them all inside.

Madame Maxime stayed behind with the two Headmasters. She cast a glance over her shoulder as Hagrid stepped away from the Qilin, reluctantly, like a child leaving the sweets aisle, and made his way towards the Abraxans.

Her lips parted, she was about to mention how difficult the beasts could be, temperamental, stubborn, a right pain to settle, but stopped surprised as Hagrid gave a soft whistle and walked straight up to the lead horse.

The great creature huffed, stomped its hoof, then followed him without hesitation. The others moved too.

Maxime blinked. Said nothing. But her eyes lingered a bit too long as Hagrid patted one of the Abraxans on the neck and led the entire lot off like he did this every day.

Students started to shiver, pulling their cloaks tighter as the wind knifed off the lake. After two sky‑entries in a row, most of them were staring upward, waiting for something else to come screaming out of the clouds.

Then someone near the front yelled, “Wait, did you hear that?”

Another voice followed, “Something in the lake!”

Ripples rolled across the surface. Slow at first. Then harder, something heavy was moving underneath. A couple first‑years squeaked and ducked behind the older students.

McGonagall lifted a hand for silence, pointless, because the moment the lake began to churn, no one in front needed telling to shut up.

A deep, hollow boom echoed across the water. Bubbles roared to the surface, bursting in loud pops. The lake frothed like something massive was clawing its way up from the bottom.

A ship, an actual bloody ship, climbed out of the lake.

Students gasped so loudly the sound bounced off the castle walls.

A figure leapt from the deck, landing on the bank with a splash. Heavy cloak, fur lining, the whole ensemble screaming northern cold and long winters.

Karkaroff.

He flicked water from his sleeves, smoothed his hair back, and gave Dumbledore a nod that was polite but only by technical definition.

“Albus,” he said.

“Igor,” Dumbledore replied with far too much cheer.

Behind him, Durmstrang students climbed down in tight formation, each wearing thick winter cloaks and stern looks.

Karkaroff exchanged sharp nods with Madame Maxime and Master Ji, nothing beyond that. The moment his students finished their greetings, he swept straight into the castle, not staying with the rest. Snape was waiting near the doors, he led them off.

Before anyone could comment, light flared from the trees, bright, flickering, and fast. A line of pale blue lanterns lit the air, strung between massive, translucent creatures thundering through the mist.

Elephants.

Except their bodies shimmered, almost see-through, like moonlight trapped in motion. Ghost caravans.

They tore across the clearing at a dead sprint, hooves pounding like war drums, dragging a dozen massive, gold-carved carriages behind them. The lead one had a banner streaming from its roof, symbols that shifted before the eye could catch them.

The entire herd stopped as one. The carriages hovered inches above the grass.

Then a woman stepped out from the lead caravan, robes folding like molten bronze. Her hair was cropped short and wrapped in rings of silver.

Madam Ekwensi.

Headmistress of Uagadou.

Dumbledore smiled wide, stepping forward. “Ekwensi.”

She smiled, soft but full of teeth. “Albus.”

Behind Ekwensi, her students climbed out in calm formation. Some carried long staffs slung over their backs, others had tattoos that shimmered like protective runes. The Uagadou students arranged themselves.

Ekwensi took her place near the other heads.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, “We are honoured to walk this ground.”

“It is our honour.” Dumbledore chuckled.

The headmasters turned and began making their way toward the castle. McGonagall clapped her hands and started ushering the students along.

Hogwarts followed in a shuffling, half-awed mess.

Hagrid remained outside, staring at the herd of Ghost Elephants. “They’re beautiful.”

(Check Here)

Just saying. Knowing your name could be a good thing. Cassian pulls people out of nothing by saying their names aloud.

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