On Saturday morning, sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of Dumbledore's office, casting patches of color on the floor.
A strange yet harmonious blend of scents hung in the air-the sweetness of Sherbet Lemons, the smell of old parchment, and a faint fragrance of tea.
Albus Dumbledore, Madame Olympe Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, and their specially invited "rules consultant," Douglas Holmes, sat around the round table.
Dumbledore had called this meeting, ostensibly to "discuss fairness in the remaining stages of the Triwizard Tournament."
But everyone knew that Hogwarts' "Blind Box Grand Sale" and "points rat race" had left the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang deeply anxious, and Dumbledore had arranged the meeting specifically to reassure them.
"My dear Olympe, Igor,"
Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling merrily behind his glasses as he deftly handed out his favorite Sherbet Lemons.
"Don't worry about the children's little bit of chaos lately."
He pushed a sweet toward Karkaroff, who frowned in disgust.
"To my mind, this is precisely what makes education so fascinating, isn't it?"
Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"We need only give them a patch of grass. Whether they want to run, fight, or lie down and watch the clouds should be their own choice."
Madame Maxime shook her head at this hands-off approach.
She did not touch the sweet, which she considered far too childish, and merely folded her hands with dignity.
"Albus, I respect your romanticism. But at Beauxbatons, we place greater emphasis on precision and elegance."
Her voice was steady.
"I worry that this mad rush for points will make the students crude and mercenary, making them forget the beauty of magic itself. Education should be a carefully choreographed ballet, not a chaotic Quidditch match."
"Beauty? Artistry?"
Karkaroff interrupted with a growl. He sat bolt upright, but his expression was impatient.