"George asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she
wasn’t telling," you said and George looked at you bitterly. "She just told him to shut up and get on with transfiguring his raccoon." Fred slightly pushed you playfully making you smile.
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We’ve done dangerous
stuff before..."
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven’t." said Fred.
"McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to
how well they’ve done the tasks." Lee continued
"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the
panel." said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a
cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage." She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It’s all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book’s not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
"What are you on about?" said Ron, though Harry thought he
knew what was coming.
"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. His and Ron’s lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione’s determination to pursue justice for house-elves. You decided to speak up "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to —"
"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred and you, "loads of times, to nick food. And we’ve met them, and they’re happy. They think they’ve got the best job in the world —"
"That’s because they’re uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. You weren't expecting any letters from Sirius, yet here was your owl, with a letter on its beak, landing in front of you. You took the letter from its beak and fed it some bread. You opened the letter, which had a small poem inside it. Took you long enough to write a new letter, you thought. It said:
"To the perfect (Y/n),
Though the sun sets and finalises another day,
It leaves us with an array of colour and hope,
Hope that a new day will come,
Hope that life with you will continue to be as beautiful
As it is now.
It fills my heart with gladness knowing that
Though the sun is being replaced with night,
When I lay my head to rest,
You will be by my side,
Comforting me tonight.
By yours truly with love."
You would lie if you said that this letter hadn't made you blush and smile like a fool. This person's letters would create butterflies in your stomach. You held the letter to your chest and closed your eyes. When you opened them, the familiar three pairs of eyes stared at you. "What?" You asked, confused and a little bit scared.
ESTÁ A LER
One Of A Kind ||A Fred Weasley Fanfiction||
Fanfic(Y/n) Black, the daughter of Sirius Black, was nurtured by the Weasley family, forming strong bonds with all of its members. However, her affection ran particularly deep for Fred Weasley, the older twin. As time went on and their lives became intert...
9. The Goblet of Fire
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