The massive airbus circled Beauxbatons Academy exactly three times, and with each pass, its sheer size combined with the deafening howl of its engines dragged every eye toward it. Even the few students still inside the castle rushed outside, their faces tilted skyward in awe and disbelief.
Some gasped and others pointed, while a few—not students, but older staff and professors—clutched their ears against the roaring thunder overhead, muttering uneasy fears of a possible Muggle attack.
Olympe Maxime's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Of all the things…" she murmured under her breath as her eyes tracked the aircraft overhead. Then her gaze swept across the school grounds in all directions, searching for any possible way a two-hundred-foot steel beast could land. But neither her eyes nor her vast magical senses found a single field large enough, nor any clearing wide or flat enough to make it possible. Logically, it seemed impossible.
And yet her smirk deepened and her eyes gleamed with something suspiciously close to amusement. She didn't look worried at all about things getting out of control. Even if it did, she was more than capable of handling it. In fact, she was looking forward to what might come next, especially after sensing the magical signature she had just detected.
---
Meanwhile, inside the aircraft, the students of Hogwarts were having the time of their lives. Even the pure-bloods—many of whom had never imagined that riding a Muggle machine could be so thrilling—were laughing and chattering with wide-eyed excitement.
Of course, the Muggle-borns were a little less carefree. They knew a thing or two about flying, and some had taken flights before. Their eyes were glued to the windows, scanning the landscape anxiously for a runway. After all, how else was a plane supposed to land?
And just then, the intercom crackled to life, a voice cutting through the cabin to announce, in a smooth and steady tone, that they had officially arrived.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is your captain Sebastian speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts—we'll be landing shortly... oh, and... try not to scream."
The pause before the last line, delivered with a touch of dry humor, sent a ripple of nervous laughter through the cabin.
"Hey, Harry…" George called out.
He, Fred, and Harry were seated in the same row, with Harry by the window—and at the moment, his face didn't look like he found the announcement funny at all.
"What's wrong?" Fred asked, leaning forward. "We're about to land, right?"
"Yeah, Harry," George added, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
Harry's hands gripped the armrests like his life depended on it, and his back was pressed so tightly into the seat it looked like he was trying to melt right through it. He stared out the window without blinking, lips pressed in a tight line, and didn't know how to explain it to the twins.
Part of him was panicking—there were only trees and jagged mountains below, not a hint of anything that looked like a runway—but another part of him wasn't truly afraid. Not with Professor Caesar and Coach Stevens on board. Not with Professor McGonagall coolly buckling her seatbelt a few rows ahead. They had to have a plan. Right?
"I... don't see a runway." He couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
Fred and George exchanged a glance. "Runway? What in Merlin's name is that?" The two redheads hadn't the faintest idea how an aircraft was supposed to land—otherwise, they might've been wearing the same pale expression Harry had right now.
And similar scenes played out throughout the aircraft. Those who understood looked like they had a bone stuck in their throats, while the rest stared at them, puzzled, wondering what on earth they were so nervous about.
It was an odd scene inside the cabin after the call to fasten seatbelts. A few wizards still hadn't sat down—mostly the clueless ones who were new to the experience and didn't understand just how important it was to be buckled in during landing. But not for long.
"Did the voice not make itself clear?" McGonagall snapped at the few still loitering in the aisle. "Sit. Down. Do not make me say it again!"
Like obedient little puppies, they scrambled to their seats, fumbling with seatbelts in a rush to obey. At last, the aircraft—at least the passengers on board—was ready for the final leg of the trip.
While Professor McGonagall took charge of the students, in the cockpit, Maverick was going over the "landing" plan one last time with Bucky.
But the more Bucky listened, the harder it became for him to nod along. Even for a genetically enhanced super-human who had seen every kind of madness the world could throw, what he was being told to do seemed to be pushing his limits. His hands, clenched tight around the controls, had even started to tremble.
"Boss…" the super-soldier gulped and asked one last time to be sure, "Are you really, really sure about this?"
Maverick smiled calmly and patted the man's shoulder. "Trust me."
And with that, he vanished, and reappeared outside, beneath the aircraft—mid-flight.
The wind immediately struck him like a tidal wave, but in the same beat, a transparent barrier came into place, shielding him from the howling gale.
He flew, maintaining speed alongside the aircraft while scanning the landscape below. Up ahead, beyond the rocky terrain of the Pyrenees they were flying over, Beauxbatons school came into view. Beyond the school, a stretch of green trees led to a calm lake. On either side, thick forests stretched toward the horizon.
"We're lined up. Ready when you are." Bucky's voice crackled in his ear as the aircraft slowly began its descent toward the stretch of terrain below.
"Get ready," he responded over the comms, then shot forward like a rocket to about a dozen meters ahead of the airbus before easing back to match its speed again.
Transfiguration, and his recently acquired talent—nature energy manipulation—it was time to test the limits of both.
Raw power surged within him like a storm barely held in check, as he tapped into the ancient laws of magic and then hurled it downward in a blazing torrent toward the jagged peaks below.
But he was a mere speck compared to the 200-foot behemoth, and nobody—well, except for one—had noticed him yet.
Further ahead, the students, professors, and headmasters watched in disbelief as the massive aircraft descended dangerously, heading straight for the jagged stretch of rocky peaks.
"What in Merlin's name are they doing?"
"Madam Speaker... I believe you should intervene now, yes?"
Both deans turned sharply to Maxime, alarmed, assuming the aircraft was moments away from disaster. And they were not the only ones. Across the school grounds, every witch and wizard held their breath as the deafening roar of the twin engines grew louder and louder.
Anxious murmurs spread through the gathering. Some students exchanged worried glances, while others scoffed, thinking Hogwarts had finally bitten off more than it could chew.
And then...
They all felt a deep, rumbling vibration, like the growl of a giant waking up.
What they saw next made their eyes widen.
The stone and boulders beneath the rapidly descending aircraft rippled like a tidal wave, reshaping in real time. Jagged ridges flattened, and weathered boulders liquefied into sleek, polished stone. A flawless surface began to form beneath the aircraft, stretching ahead of it as it moved, smoothed by an invisible force.
"What kind of ridiculous level of Transfiguration is this?"
"Is this even Transfiguration at all?"
The deans of Durmstrang and Koldovstoretz exchanged bewildered looks, both questioning what they were witnessing. They were great magi, powerhouses in their own right, yet the raw, practical magic unfolding before them was far beyond their comprehension.
The massive airbus descended with a deep, rising hum, its nose tilting gently downward.
Boom!
Screech!
The wheels touched the conjured stone with a hiss and a thud, tires spinning across the smooth surface, gliding forward without stopping, while the terrain continued to reshape rapidly beneath it as it moved, bending and changing like liquid to accommodate its path.
And inside the aircraft, students pressed their faces to the windows, eyes wide. The only ones who looked anxious were the Muggle-borns who had flown on aircraft before, while the pure-bloods and magical-borns grinned with excitement, assuming the steep drop was merely a dramatic finale to an already extraordinary journey.
VROOOOM!
On the ground near the school, gasps rang through the crowd of students. The powerful roar of the engines was louder than ever now, but their minds were still fixated on the miracle happening right in front of them.
"How is that even possible...?"
"Merlin's beard…"
"Wait... I see someone…"
A few students pointed toward the aircraft, noticing a silhouette atop the nose of the airbus, seemingly standing with arms outstretched, as if reaching for something.
"Who is that?"
VROOOOM!
Dust billowed in a sweeping cloud as the aircraft finally came to a halt, having thundered past the jagged peaks and skimming to a stop at the very edge of the school's grassy grounds—just meters from where the other school delegations stood frozen in stunned silence.
Then, at last, after a slow, deliberate pivot to the side, the deafening roar faded. The engines let out a final, echoing sigh… and fell silent.
Then, as if a collective breath had finally been released, the courtyard erupted—cheers, gasps, and stunned applause breaking the silence like a dam bursting. Inside the aircraft, students whooped and clapped. Even the rival delegations outside joined in, too amazed not to applaud.
The two deans from Durmstrang and Koldovstoretz remained rooted in place, speechless.
Maverick let out a slow breath and watched the stunned crowd, then a confident smile tugged at his lips. Honestly, the feat earlier hadn't been that difficult for him. While everyone assumed it had been an impossible feat of Transfiguration, the truth was that it also involved the talent of nature energy manipulation.
His gaze swept from the sea of students to the three deans, who had risen from their chairs. The headmasters of Durmstrang and Koldovstoretz looked unmistakably shocked, but the half-giant... she was staring directly at him with a smirk.
He couldn't help but mirror her expression, his lips curling up and a brow raised in challenge. With a final glance, he vanished from his spot, slipping back into the aircraft.
"Hmph," she muttered, swallowing the grin that was forming and then glanced to her left and right. "Well then, Messieurs... let us go and welcome the delegation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The two deans had far too many questions, but they were momentarily too stunned to speak. But the Archmage had spoken, so they would have to wait for answers later.
Following the three deans, the students marched toward the parked mechanical behemoth, animatedly discussing the unspeakable level of magic they had just witnessed, and came to a stop near the main exit door.
Standing at the front, Maxime observed the fine artwork, boldly displaying the pride of Hogwarts to her face. She couldn't help but think that she might as well charge rent if the bloody thing was to be park next to her precious school during the tournament.
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