LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 2 : SCENE 1 : CHAPTER 65
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Early the next morning (perhaps too early), Y/N stood in the Owlery, grumpily yawning as she tied the thirty-fifth letter of the day to some random school owl, who was too eager to get out and fly off to deliver said letter. Finally securing it, she let him off, groaning as she stretched her arms out before beckoning over an equally as grumpy Hedwig.
"Let me guess: angsty Harry?" she asked her, stroking her feathers lightly before feeding her her favorite food. "I'm assuming he's writing to Sirius?"
"How'd you know?" asked Harry's voice from behind her.
Y/N turned, brushing her hair out of her face. She shrugged. "Intuition, I guess. I mean, who else would you be writing to? The Dursleys?"
Harry let out a harsh laugh and then stretched out his arm to Hedwig, who promptly turned away from him and showed him her tail. Y/N grinned.
"Perhaps you should be nicer to your pets, Harry?" she suggested, urging Hedwig to fly over to her owner. In the end, she complied, only after giving Y/N an affectionate nuzzle with a spiteful look to Harry. "For example, even when Goldfish stabs me in the back and sometimes leaves me for Dra- Malfoy, I still offer him treats every day."
"Whatever," Harry grumbled as Hedwig flew off, and they linked arms as they descended the tall staircase of the Owlery. "I bet you're wondering why I'm writing to Sirius?"
"Yeah, I'm just the nosiest person alive," she said sarcastically, shivering as a breeze blew past them. She huddled closer to the lanky giant (as he, like everyone else in her year, towered over her) as they slowly made their way for the castle, taking their time. "But, really – what's so important that you're writing to him this early in the morning?"
"So I told him about my scar hurting over the summer –"
"Your scar was hurting over the summer?!"
He looked down at her, exasperated. "Yes, now keep up. Anyways, I told him my scar was hurting, and he just sent back a letter last night, after you headed off to bed. Here –"
He pulled a folded sheet of parchment from his pocket and handed it to her, walking slower as she read.
Harry –
I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore – they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione – do tell Y/N she's a blithering idiot, though. I've seen the Daily Prophet, and I think that Malfoy boy will be her downfall. Anywho – keep your eyes open, Harry.
Sirius
"He acts like I chose to be engaged to Draco," she muttered, giving Harry the parchment back. "What did you say?"
"I told him not to come back, that my head is completely fine," said Harry, as they waved to a half-asleep Hagrid. "I don't know why he feels the need to come all the way up here, he's going to get himself caught."
"I agree," Y/N said as they entered the castle, slowly making their way through the Entrance Hall. "But I don't know, Harry, maybe you do have a few loose screws up in there."
He let out a small smile as she stood on her tip-toes to ruffle his hair, giving him one last hug before departing to the Slytherin table for breakfast.
Y/N couldn't worry less about Harry's dilemma with Sirius over the next couple of weeks, seeing as she was busy writing letters and sending off replies. Granted, it was her own fault because she didn't have to write fan mail replies, but she felt as though she'd be a grade 'O' (in terms of Hogwarts grades) bitch who didn't care. Of course, there was always the hate mail she received, but she ultimately decided to toss those in the fire and not worry about them. After all, she had a life to worry about, unlike those fellow teenage girls who had either seen Draco in the newspapers and wanted him for their own, or were jealous of her for whatever reason.
Speaking of Draco, he had decided that he was so incompetent that he couldn't tie a tie, and decided that Y/N would be his tie-tier. Every morning before breakfast, he would come down right before Theodore and Blaise, his tie hung loose around his neck as he bullied Y/N into tying it up, as if they were already married. It soon became routine for them, and it was no different that very morning as Draco cornered Y/N against a study table, hands on either side of her hips as he pressed his body against her, hunching over to kiss her shoulder.
"You act like you like me," Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes as she tugged at the two sides of his tie. "Why do you feel the need to do all of this, anyways? Just last year you were picking on me for whatever reason."
"Oh, but I still hate you, my love," he muttered against her neck as his lips became sloppy, "stupid — little — Mudblood. You're just my pet, you know that? My hate for you runs deeper than your fucking ego. Maybe it's time for me to show you your place, hmm? That is, on your knees in front of me."
Y/N laughed.
"You're funny, my darling," she said, and let her nose and lips trail up his neck, occasionally leaving small kisses all over the place. His hands tightened on the wooden desk, and his relaxed demeanor suddenly stiffened. "I think it's the other way around, don't you? You on your knees, making my legs shake as you -"
"Darling," he growled, glaring ahead as the wood creaked behind Y/N.
A tainted smirk came to Y/N's lips and she looked down, biting her lips.
"Well, I'm off to breakfast -"
And she ducked under his arm, glancing behind herself once only when she was almost out of the common room, finding him already gazing predatorily back at her.
To all of their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
"But – but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said – to use it against another human was –"
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eyes swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. Y/N had the faintest feeling that he was lying, but she didn't say anything. "If you'd rather learn the hard way – when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely – fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Y/N grinned to herself. She knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Y/N watched as, one by one, her classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Adelaide Murton imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Y/N watched through heavy eyes as Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, her arms crossed. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
Harry's tense posture relaxed and he gazed into the unknown, smiling softly. His knees bent sharply and he looked as though he wanted to jump onto the desk – then, all of a sudden, he smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over, kneecaps smashing with a considerable crack.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody, and Y/N's eyes seemed to roll on their own. Honestly, Moody acted as though Harry was the only one who could do it, and the rest of them were as incompetent as their second Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Look at that, you lot . . . Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention – watch his eyes, that's where you see it – very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
"The way he talks," Harry muttered as Y/N begrudgingly helped him hobble out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely), "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."
"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He apparently had much more difficulty with the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid . . . ." Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. . . ."
"When are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do, anyway?" Theodore complained, grumbling when Daphne had given him her bag so she could fix her hair.
All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor Snape explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Potions homework he had assigned.
"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" he told them, his usual low drawl now raised just the slightest notch. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer –"
"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" Millicent Bulstrode howled.
"Maybe not, Bulstrode, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Grace and Mister Malfoy remain the only students in this class who have managed to brew the Calming Draught correctly. I might remind you that you barely passed the Potions exam last year, a mere point above the failing grade?"
Millicent turned a brilliant shade of red as Draco snickered next to Y/N.
Y/N, Harry, Ron, Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne were all deeply amused when Professor Trelawney told them that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large portions of Harry and Y/N's prediction, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them – but they were less amused when she asked them to do the same thing for the month after next; all of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes.
Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes – they took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote (and if you ask – yes, this is illegal). Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.
Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.
"I will not," said Draco flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."
Hagrid's smile faded off his face.
"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book. . . . I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."
The Gryffindors roared with laughter, and Y/N couldn't help but let out a small chuckle too. Anger rolled off of Draco in waves from behind Y/N, and once he noticed her laughing too he flicked the back of her head, earning a fierce glare.
After their lesson, once they arrived in the Entrance Hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been placed at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron and Theodore, both the tallest of the bunch, stood on tiptoes to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the others:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY –
"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST. ALL STUDENTS WILL BE GIVEN AN IDENTIFICATION CARD TO BE WORN YEAR-ROUND, IN ASSISTANCE TO OUR GUESTS.
"Only a week away!" Daphne squealed, eyes glittering with delight as Y/N squinted at the last part. Identification card?
"What're you so happy about?" Theodore muttered as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the courtyard. "They all probably think they're better than us."
"Oh, but they're foreign!" said Daphne happily, clapping her hands together.
"That's not the reason you like them."
Daphne huffed. "Then why do you think I like them, huh?"
"Because the boys are handsome," he said bitterly, arms crossed as he stared down at her. "To you, anyways. I've seen you stare lovey-dovey at those magazines of yours."
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Daphne indignantly as they finally made it into the Inter-House common room.
Theodore gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"
The appearance of the sign in the Entrance Hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following weeks, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Y/N went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors spread like wildfire from student to student: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
The day before October thirtieth, in Y/N's first period class (Potions), Professor Snape had finally explained the ID card situation.
"Professor Dumbledore has asked us to hand out these identification cards, to better aid you students in getting to know each other," said Snape, who was passing cards down the rows. Each of them had a name and a picture, and when Y/N got hers she saw her moving picture for this year's yearbook and her name written as 'Y/N Grace' underneath it. A long lanyard was attached to it and she slipped it over her head, peering down at it. "From now on you will be required to wear them during school hours. You will also need them to get into Hogsmeade."
"So they're like chocolate frog cards, but without all the glory?" said Zoe Accrington, as Draco made his and Y/N's ID cards face each other (they started making snarky faces; sticking out their tongues, curling their lips — Y/N still didn't understand the concept of moving pictures, but she paid no mind to them as she listened to Snape.
"Exactly. Ten points to Slytherin," said Snape monotonously as his own ID card brooded.
"Will we get these every year, or just this year?" Theodore piped up staring at his, who widened his eyes and stared back.
"Every year."
The class groaned.
Y/N noticed that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Merlin, he even threatened to tell McGonagall about Y/N coming into the castle, muddy and wet, with Goldfish, which would most certainly end in harsh detentions, seeing as she, as well as the other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
When they went up to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: green with a silver serpent for Slytherin, red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, and yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Huh, united.
Y/N, Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne sat down beside Anthony and that first year named Malcolm at the Slytherin table.
"I couldn't care less about all of this," Y/N grumbled as she sat down, piling food onto her plate and filling a mug with hot coffee. The owl post came in, and Y/N readied herself for the piles of mail. "Honestly, it's become so tiring, hearing about the other schools, as if they were some superior group of people. Honestly."
Despite Y/N's annoyance, there was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. When the bell rang early, Y/N, Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne hurried down to the Slytherin dungeons, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks (though, Professor McGonagall had instructed Y/N to change into traditional, bottle green wizard robes with a long-sleeved black dress underneath), and rushed back upstairs into the Entrance Hall, where Y/N fumbled with the short gloves she usually wore to formal events.
The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.
"Bulstrode, straighten your hat," Professor Snape drawled at Millicent. "Goyle, fix your tie — where's your ID? Go get it. Miss Grace – go join Professor Dumbledore at the front of the school."
Y/N huffed and bid good-bye to Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne, pushing through the crowd of students to join Professor Dumbledore on the steps into the castle, who had a pleasant smile on his face.
"How are the other students getting here, do you suppose, Professor Dumbledore?" Y/N questioned, hands neatly stacked as she stood her straightest.
"You'll see," he smiled, and Y/N frowned.
The students started filing out of the castle doors in four, neat lines, and everyone lined up in front of the castle. Y/N shivered lightly in the cold night and wished the other students would hurry up, so she could go ahead and eat something positively warm, and sleep in her self-warming bed.
Mm, her bed . . .
"Aha!" Dumbledore called from beside her, alerting both Y/N and the other teachers. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick – or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks – was hurtling across the deep blue toward the castle, growing larger with each passing moment.
"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. Y/N snorted.
"Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" yelled the kid Malcolm hated oh-so-badly.
The kid's guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The carriage soon landed at the front of the large gathering of students, coming to a gradual stop. Y/N barely saw the door of the carriage bearing a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened, and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down front the carriage. He bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Madam Maxime, who Y/N had already met, stepped out of the carriage.
From beside her, Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at the headmistress.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore and Y/N, kissing Y/N on both cheeks before extending a glittering hand to Dumbledore, who barely had to bend to kiss it.
"My dear Madam Maxime," he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dorr," said Madam Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils," said Madam Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Y/N, who had been shoved forward by Professor McGonagall, started going down the row of the older teens, kissing each on the cheek with a small hug. But then she stopped –
"Klein," she said shortly, remembering him – he had been the boy who had made Draco jealous, during the Quidditch World Cup.
"To you, it's John," he said in a thick French accent, and held on to her hug a second too long.
"And to you, it's my fist in your face," Draco growled from right behind Y/N. She froze.
"Draco –"
"Oh, yeah?" said Klein, challengingly. "I vould like to zee you try. Misses pretty girl, stand aside, s'il vous plaît."
"John, drop eet," said another girl from behind him, who could be mistaken for a veela. Maybe she was. . . . She turned to Y/N. "Fleur. Delacour. Please excuse zis John 'ere . . . 'is pride eez vay too big for 'im, you zee . . ."
Y/N stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek with a hug, as she had done the others.
"Y/N Grace and – Draco, too," she said, her heavy british accent contrasting against Fleur's french. "He doesn't know how to go a day without fighting."
They laughed and Fleur shook her head, muttering, "Men."
Y/N finally rejoined Professor Dumbledore once the Beauxbatons students had disappeared inside, and this time looked out on the great scenery, looking for any sign of any Durmstrang student. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then –
A loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. . . .
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan from Gryffindor, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water – except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks – and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. . . .
What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then Y/N saw the rigging. . . .
Slowly, magnificently, a ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down into the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Y/N noticed, were big and stocky, rather than the slim and lanky builds of the Beauxbatons students. But perhaps that was just their cloaks, which were made of some kind of shaggy, matted fur – however, the man leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied as the headmaster completely disregarded Y/N.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Y/N noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . ."
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. Y/N recognized Viktor – he was the player on the Bulgarian team, who had refused to have his nose cleaned up after the match.
'Y/N!" Viktor said in surprise, once he had spotted her. "How good it eez to see you again. . . ."
His towering and bulky frame surged forward and he hugged Y/N rather tightly, receiving one that was not quite as tightly back (seeing as he was much stronger than her).
Y/N, once again, went down the row of Durmstrang students, greeting them as she greeted the Beauxbatons students. Soon enough, Y/N joined Viktor once again, and they crossed the Entrance Hall into the Great Hall.
"So vhere do you seet?" he asked, looking unsurely around at the Hall.
"Oh, over here," she said, and led the Durmstrang students over to the Slytherin table, where they sat all around her, chatting subjectlessly.
Shivering slightly, Y/N watched as the Beauxbatons students sat at the Ravenclaw table, and the Hogwarts students filed in, some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs groaning as they saw the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students already seated. Draco came in the Hall, looked meanly around before spotting Y/N sitting next to Viktor and another Durmstrang girl, and he smiled slightly smugly, strutting over to sit between Y/N and the girl.
"Your ceilings are very beau'iful," said the boy across from Y/N, pulling off his heavy fur cloak. He looked at Y/N. "You are shiv'ring. 'Ere."
"Thank you," Y/N said, taking the coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'll give it back –"
"No need," the boy said. "Keep it."
Y/N smiled – and then she felt Draco's hand on her knee. Giving him a look, she turned to Viktor and made conversation. As they talked, Draco made it his mission to either annoy the living crap out of Y/N, or show that he had already made her his. Hell, he even went as far as to pull the necklace he had given her from under her robes, putting it on full display as Viktor and Y/N talked.
Finally, she turned to him.
"Draco — !"
"Shh!" he grinned, and pointed to Professor Dumbledore, who was standing. A silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
Viktor smiled at Y/N, who grinned back.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
He sat down, and Y/N saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. There even seemed to be a greater variety of food than usual, including several that were definitely foreign.
"If I may ask," said Viktor, piling a small serving of Bulgarian moussaka (a dish with ground beef, potatoes, and lots of vegetables) onto his plate, "vho is vat girl vat you vere talking to at vee Quidditch World Cup? Vith vee ah . . . how you say? Bushy 'air."
Y/N smiled and stuffed a roll into Draco's mouth, which was opening to speak.
"That's Hermione, that is," she said, and pointed at her at the Gryffindor table. "She's in Gryffindor, though, but I do think you'll like her. Mnogo." [ Very much — Bulgarian ]
He nodded and thanked her, staring at Hermione throughout the rest of dinner as Y/N quietly convinced Draco to not say a word.
"What will I get out of it?" he said, raising a brow.
"Not a smack in the face, that's what," she hissed lowly before waving at Theodore, Blaise, and Daphne down the table.
"How about some love and affection every once in a while?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "After all, we are engaged."
"You haven't even taken me on a proper date yet," she said, snorting. "Well — you haven't even taken me on one at all, to think about it."
"Will you —"
"No."
He pouted down at her and she rolled her eyes, biting her cheek as she looked away. Just be mean! she screamed in her head, hoping he somehow could hear her. Be mean so I don't actually fall for you!
Dinner continued smoothly, with much conversation made between the students around Y/N. The topic of the Tournament came up once or twice, but they eased more into it around the start of dessert.
"Eef you could, Y/N," said the boy across from Y/N, who was cutting himself a piece of tart, "vould you enter vee Tournament? Eef you vere of age."
Y/N seriously thought about the question. Would she enter, if she were of age? She knew she had already said she wouldn't, but now that she thought about it, she wondered if she actually would. Then she frowned.
"No, I wouldn't," she said and scooped herself a bowl of ice cream. "I couldn't care less about entering, to be honest, the tournament doesn't really interest me. I'd rather watch on the sidelines, cheering on our champion instead of actually putting myself in danger, you know? I have enough to worry about, anyways, with O.W.L.s next year and everything else."
The Durmstrang students seemed more interested in her once she said that, and started talking to her with more excitement in the air. Draco huffed very loudly and put his chin in the palm of his hand, frowning.
Y/N resisted the urge to smile.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Y/N, though slightly uninterested in the Tournament, felt a small thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" — there was a smattering of polite applause — "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced, further boosting Ludo Bagman's reputation among the students.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
At the mention of the word 'champions,' the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students, and some actually even stood on their chairs to see it properly.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. Y/N gave a small shiver.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore now took out his wands and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To ensure that no underage students yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late (though, as put in routine over the summer, Y/N was usually up to breakfast by six-thirty). Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, however, caught up to Y/N as she ascended the first step up to the first-floor, yawning loudly as each of them panted.
"What's gotten you three up so early?" Y/N asked, going back up the stairs once more. "You usually don't come up until nine, since it's the weekend and everything."
"The Goblet of Fire, of course," said Theodore, as if it were obvious. "We want to know who's putting in their names, and everything."
Y/N shrugged, and they finally made it to the Entrance Hall, where about twenty or so people were milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the Hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin gold line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.
"Anyone put their name in yet?" Blaise monotonously asked a third-year girl, scaring her.
"A-all the Durmstrang lot," she said, slightly scooting away from him. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."
"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Daphne. "I would've if it had been me . . . wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again, eh? You'd be the laughing stock of the school, even the first-years'll poke fun at you."
Someone laughed behind Y/N. Turning, she saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying up the staircase from the Potion Dungeons, all three of them looking extremely excited.
"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Daphne and Y/N, and he handed Y/N four books. Looking down at the first one blankly, she flipped open the cover to see Y/N Granger staring up at her.
"Are these my —"
"Potions textbooks from the last four years? Yes, they are," Fred grinned. "Thanks, by the way. Anyways, we've just taken it."
"My textbooks? Yea that much is obvious —"
"No, the Aging Potion, dung brain," Fred said, and flicked her forehead.
"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.
"That math doesn't —"
"I'm not sure this is going to go well, you know," said Daphne warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought this through and a bunch of idiot jokesters won't be able to fool him —"
Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.
"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon then — I'll go first —"
Y/N watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley — Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the Entrance Hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.
For a split second Y/N thought it had worked — George certainly though so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred — but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully at Y/N and Daphne's feet, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.
The Entrance Hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.
"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."
Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Y/N, Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, also chortling, went in to breakfast.
The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Y/N, who was being beckoned over by Viktor, the boy who had given her his jacket, and the girl who had sat on the other side of Draco last night, led the way over to them, sitting next to Viktor.
"Heard you put your name in, Viktor," said Y/N as she spread a glob of jam on her toast. "Good luck on that."
"Thank you," he smiled, and looked up as Harry, Ron, and Hermione came into the Great Hall, beelining for the Gryffindor table after briefly waving at Y/N, Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise. "Say, vhat are you doing today? I vas thinking ve could —"
"Viktor! Bjorn! Kaleena!" Karkaroff barked from the entrance to the Great Hall. "Boat for first — er — lessons!"
"Oh," said Viktor depressedly, and he and his friends, Bjorn and Valeena, stood, frowning. "Vell, I guess ve must be off. Goodbye."
He, Bjorn, and Valeena waved to Y/N, who waved back as they stalked off, a slump to their step.
"I wonder what he had in mind?" said Daphne as she finished off her cereal. "He seems interested in you."
"Nah," Y/N said, her lips quirking. "I think he's more interested in Hermione than me. He was asking about her last night, you know, but don't tell her that."
Daphne grinned.
A tap on Y/N's shoulder alerted her and she looked up, finding Draco holding out Y/N's ribbon from the train.
"Oh, can I finally have that back —"
"No," he said, and smacked her hand from taking it. "Tie it to my wrist. Please."
She frowned. She was tempted to take it and run, but first, where would she even go? There were too many people in the Entrance Hall to make a quick escape — and then there was the fact that Draco was faster than her — also that he was much stronger than her —
"I know what you're thinking and the best option, my dear, would be to just do as I say," he said, smirking and holding his hand out once again. She looked up at him. "You're so predictable."
"I —"
"— am not?" he said, raising an eyebrow as Y/N took the ribbon from him and tied it around his wrist. "Right."
He strutted off, going to sit by Crabbe and Goyle.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved at Y/N, Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, beckoning them over. Finishing the last of their bites, they got up, chatting mindlessly as they joined the trio, leaving the Great Hall.
"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.
Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise, who had gotten more acquainted with Hagrid since their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson last year, shrugged and joined them.
"Just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts," said Ron, shivering as he thought about the wretched blast-ended skrewts.
A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.
"I've just realized — I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly. "Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"
"What is it with her?" said Ron exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.
"Hey, Ron," said Harry suddenly. "It's your friend . . ."
The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, Fleur Delacour and John Klein, who curtly waved to Y/N. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.
Madame Maxime entered the Hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each namer entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.
"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Theodore muttered to them as Fleur dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"
"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose. . . . Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"
When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.
"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Blaise, moving toward the front doors and staring after them.
A loud rattling noise behind them announced Hermione's reappearance with the box of S.P.E.W. badges.
"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the Beauxbatons girls (specifically Fleur), who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.
As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons' sleeping quarters was solved. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yard from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it, reminding Y/N of her abraxans back home.
Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's and Goldfish's booming barks answered instantly.
"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"
"We've been really busy, Hag —" Y/N started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.
Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches — perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look didn't really suit Hagrid at all, but perhaps Y/N had picked up a critical fashion eye from being around Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Nott too much.
"Erm —" Hermione goggled at him, then obviously decided not to comment, and said, "where are the skrewts?"
"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."
"Oh no, really?" said Daphne, shooting a repressive look at Ron, who, staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, had just opened his mouth to say something about it.
"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "'S' okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."
"Well, that's lucky," said Blaise. Hagrid missed the sarcasm.
They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite excited about it as they were.
"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task . . . ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."
"Go on, Hagrid!" the boys had urged, but he just shook his head, grinning.
"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione ended up having lunch with Hagrid, while Y/N, Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise went up to the castle, claiming they had a thirty-inch essay for Charms due on Monday. They actually did, but all of them had less than three inches to write. So, with that, they grabbed a filling lunch before relaxing in the Inter-House common room, Theodore and Blaise brushing up on their poker skills while Y/N and Daphne peppered with a volleyball.
A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; they grumbled and migrated from the window to the grand fireplace, sitting next to a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and sharing a cosy blanket between the four of them. Reasonably, with the gentle patter of the rain and soft crackling of the fire, they fell asleep on each of, quietly napping as people came and went.
By the time Y/N woke, it was already growing dark, and she checked her watch to find it was already half past five — almost time for the Halloween feast, but more importantly, the announcement of the school champions.
"Wake up, you lot," she muttered, shaking each of them. Blaise groaned, sitting up, while Daphne, who had been cuddling Theodore tightly, simply turned away from her.
Looking around, Y/N squinted, finding Marietta Edgecombe, who was the girl who wrote the article about her, Draco, Fred, George, and Lee in Y/N's first year, starting rumors about her and Draco being together. Sighing, Y/N beckoned her over.
"Me?" asked Edgecombe, her camera slung around her neck as she approached Y/N.
"Yes, you," Y/N grinned, and she gestured over to Theodore and Daphne, who were still cuddling together. "Picture for me, please? I can pay you."
Edgecombe grinned. "No need to pay if you let me put it on page fourteen of The Hogwarts Herald."
Page fourteen of The Hogwarts Herald was about potential couples (who hadn't made the first page, like Draco and Y/N), and though it caused great controversy, Y/N agreed, and allowed Edgecombe to capture the picture. Blaise shook his head in the background, though he didn't object to it.
When all of them had finally awakened, they crossed the dark courtyard to the candlelit Great Hall, where it was almost full with excited students. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. They all sat in a large empty space between Viktor and his friend, Bjorn, chatting excitedly as the feast started.
The feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Y/N didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as she would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Y/N simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.
At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .
"Any second," the Durmstrang girl, Valeena, whispered in front of y/N.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had returned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
The Hall erupted, Y/N alongside them, as Viktor rose from beside Y/N, patting her on the shoulder before slouching up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!' boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
Fleur rose from the Ravenclaw table, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Daphne said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.
'Disappointed' was a bit of an understatement, Y/N thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms, and John Klein, who was Fleur's best friend, was looking at her resentfully.
When Fleur too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . .
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then he cleared his throat and read out —
"Harry Potter."
Y/N blanched as she peered through the many heads, finding Harry frozen in his seat. She was speechless. Harry Potter? As in her best friend, Harry Potter? It couldn't be —
There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent her ear toward her, frowning slightly. He straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Harry got to his feet a few tables away, stumbled slightly, and then set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The buzzing grew louder and louder.
He approached Professor Dumbledore, who wasn't smiling, before he moved off along the teachers' table, and exited the Great Hall.
Professor Dumbledore turned to leave, but then, as if it weren't a big cruel joke enough, the fire in the goblet turned not red, but green. The Hall froze, all staring at the goblet once more, and quiet hissing filled the room before another slip of parchment shot straight up into the air, falling softly — tauntingly, almost — in front of Professor Dumbledore's face. His hand shaking, he took the ripped parchment, staring at it. Finally, he cleared his throat once more, and boomed,
"Y/N Grace."