Magic? || Years 1-5

Mad-Eye Moody: Year 4

There were several cries of outrage from around the Great Hall, especially from Fred and George, and he had to raise his voice.

"This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

He smiled slightly as he looked over at the twins.

"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Everyone got to their feet and headed toward the door as Dumbledore turned to speak with Moody.

"They can't do that! We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?" George protested, glaring up at Dumbledore.

He hadn't joined the crowd heading up to the common rooms.

"They're not stopping me entering. The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally," Fred declared. "And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah... Yeah, a thousand Galleons..." Ron sighed, staring off at nothing.

"Come on, we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move," Hermione nudged the two of them, and they all headed up for Gryffindor Tower.

The entire walk there Fred and George were throwing ideas around of how Dumbledore was going to stop underage students from entering.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry asked.

"Dunno, but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George..." Fred suggested.

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," Ron pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he? Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names," Fred countered.

"People have died, though!" Hermione fretted as they started yet another staircase.

"Yeah, but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" Fred waved her concern away. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon? Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older... Dunno if we've learned enough..." Ron turned to Harry, his eyes gleaming.

"I definitely haven't," Neville's familiar, though sad, voice piped up from behind the twins. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to -- oops..."

His foot had just sunk into one of the many trick steps.

The surrounding suits of armor creaked, their version of laughter as Harry and Ron tugged Neville out of the stairs grasp.

"Shut it, you," Ron growled, banging on the armor's visor as they walked past. Finally, they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Password?" She asked as they came near.

"Balderdash," George replied instantly, "a prefect downstairs told me." He added at their confused expressions.

The common room was as familiar as ever, a crackling fire illuminating the surrounding plush furniture.

It was almost entirely empty, everyone already upstairs in their dormitories. Hermione glared at the flames, her face shadowed.

"Slave labor," She muttered darkly, her goodnights barely audible before she stalked up to the girls' dormitory.

"Goodnight," Amisty smiled at the boys as she followed after Hermione.

"'Night!" They called back.

She walked up the winding staircase, rubbing her eyes tiredly. When she reached the dormitory, Hermione was already curled up in her bed, the other girls there as well.

Amisty, however, wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. This was primarily because of the letter sitting on top of her bed. There was no owl in sight, Echo's cage was empty as she had flown up to the owlery already.

The envelope was relatively dry, only a few drops of rain wrinkling the paper here and there. She tore it open.

Dear Amisty,

I sent your dress for this year to the Burrow. I do hope Molly got it before you get to Hogwarts. As you probably already know, that dress used to belong to your mother. It was the dress she wore when we went to our first Ball. Don't worry about it not fitting, my mother took it upon herself to enchant it so that it would fit whoever put it on. She loved seeing it on Echo so much she refused to let her donate it. There's shoes to go along with it as well, even if you do end up taking them off halfway through. I hope you like it, and have fun at the Yule Ball. The first Triwizard Tournament in centuries, it's going to be impressive. Take care, I hope I'll be seeing you when the first Hogsmeade visit arrives.

Love, Dad ❤

Amisty grinned, digging through her trunk to find the package. She closed her eyes as she opened it, not wanting to see the dress just yet, and instead letting her fingers brush against the soft fabric of the dress until they hit the rougher, textured material of the shoes.

Curling her fingers around them, she pulled the two out, turned her back to the package, and opened her eyes.

Two delicate shoes were in her hands, made of what seemed to be shiny gold, but it wasn't stiff. Flowers and vines and curved lines weaved up and around the heel, glinting in the cold moonlight.

She'd have to practice walking in them if she didn't want to make a fool of herself at the 'Yule Ball' as her father had called it.

The shoes were gorgeous, and when she held up the ring Draco had anonymously gifted her first year, they matched almost perfectly.

And that meant the golden ear cuff still wrapped around the upper curve of her ear matched them as well.

With a sort of drunken smile, she closed her eyes and tucked the shoes away before rewrapping the package and stowing it away in her trunk. After changing into her pajamas, she dove under the covers, listening to the sound of the rain outside as she twisted the ring around.

Another smile broke across her face and she buried her face in her pillow, the memory of the hug on the train staining her cheeks scarlet.

She could only hope Draco felt the same way.