Beta: Cloudy
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Everything was semi-normal for the next couple of weeks at Hogwarts. Hagrid seemed to catch on that a lot of the students were thoroughly grossed out by the abomination he had bred together, and offered that a couple of students could help out by mucking out some other animal pens.
If it was a choice between cleaning up griffin shit or feeding those balls of yuckiness I took the shit every time.
The other classes weren't getting easier, either. Runes homework took up a lot of my free time, and the other classes weren't holding back in handing out assignments. Even my favorite—Potions—was getting a hassle with the amount of essays on antidotes Professor Snape was demanding.
I was a hardworking genius at Potions, but that didn't stop my hand from cramping writing out everything requested. I barely had time for my self-studies in spellcrafting and rudimentary rituals (basically vanilla rituals since I couldn't be caught learning about the heavy-duty rituals at Hogwarts).
At least Tom was having fun while I did classes. He had been devouring what medical knowledge I knew with rabid fascination. He started asking if I could check out alchemy textbooks and peruse through them so he could have the memories. I wasn't sure how exactly that worked—maybe Tom figured out a way to capture memories in my mind palace like a photograph? Checking out and flipping through the public texts on alchemy ate up the last bit of my little time I had outside of work. It made Tom happy though, so I wasn't complaining.
All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work we were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.
"You are now entering the most important phase of your magical education!" she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer and you need to be prepared."
And then came Moody's announcement that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of us in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
No one wanted that at all, but Moody didn't care.
"I don't suppose using occlumency will help me resist it?" I uneasily asked Tom.
"Actually, yes. If you prepare your defenses enough. Although with me here I don't know what will happen."
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. It was uncomfortable to watch, and I was dreading it when it was my turn.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
I gingerly stepped up to the front, doing my best to prepare my shields as Moody raised his wand and cast the spell.
"OW!"
It wasn't pleasant at all like the books described, it felt like someone took a sledgehammer to my head then set off a series of bombs.
And then—
"Huh."
"Huh."
I was perfectly safe inside my mind palace, but somehow while under the Imperius—I could still feel it trying to assault me—Tom had taken control over my body.
"So... the Imperius forces a change between the possessor and possessed? Fascinating."
"I wonder why."
"Hard to say. It could also be the result of your unique form of occlumency."
Either way, Tom was in control of my body while Moody kept trying to cast the spell. He didn't do much, just stand there and coldly stare at Moody. We could both hear the command to jump onto the desk, but neither of us felt compelled to do it.
A couple of minutes passed and the assault stopped, abruptly giving me control back over my body.
"That was weird," I muttered out loud.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, "Look at that, you lot! Potter fought and beat it. We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch her eyes, that's where you see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
It was a very long class. We both found it irritating to be jerked back and forth in control. Tom theorized the Imperius Curse could only control one soul at a time, and so when a body held two souls it forced whichever soul it was trying to control into a submissive state. Interesting.
Personally, I had always assumed the Imperius took control over the nervous system and could somehow dissociate the subconscious mind from the conscious mind. The idea that it instead controlled one's soul was rather alarming.
Of course those were simply theories. It would be hard to test the extent of the Imperius Curse while attending Hogwarts.
I was rather glad I did not experience it the same as canonical. I remembered Harry described it as a dreamy state which I correlated to being severely dissociated.
I had plenty of experiences dealing with that in my previous life. I did not savor the thought of going through anything similar again. Even if it was described as "pleasant" it still forcibly altered the state of my mind and ripped away my emotions. No thanks.
Life went on.
I was tragically forced to wake up before dawn in order to get my necessary time with Madame Willow in our ongoing tennis tournament. Not all the babeh snakes were ready to dedicate their exercise on top of their workload—Blaise and Pansy dropped out—but those that remained did their best.
The castle was in overdrive as people prepared to welcome the new schools on October 30th. The House Elves cleaned every nook and cranny, the professors were stricter than normal, and all any of the students ever talked about was the tournament.
When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. 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.
The whole day was highly disruptive for classes, as none of the students could invest themselves. It was clear all they could think about was the arrival of the other schools.
When it was finally time to meet the delegations the students were lined up outside in the chilly air. Daphne, Tracey, and I huddled together in the sharp cold winds that blew through the courtyard.
We must have waited fifteen minutes for Beauxbatons to arrive—and yes, they were all very pretty—and another twenty for Durmstrang to arrive—and yes, there were fangirls and fanboys squealing when everyone saw Krum.
The Hogwarts students were finally allowed back inside the warmth after what felt like for-friggin-ever. We followed behind the Durmstrang party, and I could hear the excited chatter of the students about Viktor Krum.
Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked, a few of them bumping into us.
"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me—"
"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"
"Oh, Merlin," I groaned in annoyance, rubbing my forehead.
"Not a fan of the celebrity?" Tom teased.
"How could I possibly be a fan of Krum when I have you?"
"I'm not a celebrity," Tom pointed out.
"Celebrities have net worth, you're priceless," I flirted.
Tom snorted, trying to cover up his laughter.
"Aww, come on I thought that was smooth," I joked, struggling not to laugh with him. I couldn't stop the silly grin on my face.
He actually did softly chuckle at that. It was beautiful. I wished I could save that as an alarm clock ringtone, I'd always wake up in a good mood if I got to hear that. Not quite the hearty laugh I was after, but progress!
The Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table, and Draco wasted little to no time in hurrying over to Krum's side and striking up a conversation.
"Malfoys have always been quick to make connections," Tom observed.
"Known a Malfoy or two?"
"I've met a couple."
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and 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."
One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.
"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, the plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than I had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.
"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. Let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemus 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.
"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 Madame 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.
"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.
"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."
"The Goblet of Fire?" Tom sounded oddly thrilled. "I've searched—I mean, I have done research for that artifact when I was in Hogwarts, but it disappeared after the last tournament."
"Want it?"
"Are you offering to steal it for me?" Tom was amused.
"Maaaaaybe."
Dumbledore now took out his wand 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 student 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."
"Tom, if you wanted to sneak in your name into the Cup to become the Hogwarts champion, how would you do it?"
From the subtle swirl in Tom's magic I could feel him thoughtfully considering the question. He was silent for several minutes.
"You mean for you? I would create a hole in the age line around the Cup."
"You wouldn't assault the Cup?"
"If I needed to enter the tournament no matter what I would first make an opening the age line, then I would Confound the Cup into believing there should be four schools. While Confounded I would add the fourth school legitimately to it, then I would enter my name under that school. The Cup, if I recall correctly, is tied to school records. It would be confused to see my name in Hogwarts and in the fourth school, but with only I entering under the fourth school it would have little choice but to include me."
"If the Cup checks against school records then wouldn't it spit me out when it saw I was underage?"
"If the Cup were to discern from age it would do it based on when it was originally made, not the modern definition of adulthood. Being of age when the Cup was made would have been.... Twelve? You are old enough that the Cup would not reject you. It is the age line that Dumbledore added that you should be concerned about. At a glance, I would conclude that the line is tied to the magical fire in the Cup. If the line notices an underage witch or wizard inside the fire it will pull it out before the Cup can accept it. You must create a hole in the line to slip your name in and keep it open long enough for the Cup to accept it."
"That's rather clever. I'm surprised you know so much about the Cup already."
"It's an item I have been wanting to personally examine for a while," Tom admitted. "Its magical contracts are unbreakable. I would like to be able to replicate the feat."
That made sense. He didn't want his followers to abandon him.
"Rosie, I have been giving some thought to your desire to compete since you announced it. I know the Cup would choose you if given the chance, and I believe I can give you that chance."
"You think it'll choose me?"
"Your magic is... odd. There is a feeling to it that I cannot put into words. Ancient artifacts have proven to be drawn to unique powers, and there is no other student at Hogwarts who could compete with you on that front."
I was flattered. I sent him an image of me grinning at him, and I thought he smiled wanly in return.
"Are you interested?"
"I'd love an honest chance to compete as Hogwarts champion."
"Then give me the opportunity to interact with the line for ten minutes without being seen."
"Consider it done."
The feast ended without much fuss, and I told the babeh snakes that I needed them to cover me for the night as I would sneak out and put my name in the Cup at three in the morning.
I made sure to say it loudly enough that Barty Crouch Jr as Mad-Eye Moody would overhear it.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Tom and I stayed up trying out a new fantasy-mystery series. Time got away from us, but thankfully I had set my alarm at three in the morning in order to sneak out. The unicorn alarm clock—courtesy of Remus—neighed and whinnied to pull us out of the climatic reveal of the bad guy. Admittedly, we were a tempted to say fuck it and keep reading.
Responsibility won out in the end, and I snuck out to the hall with my invisibility cloak. As predicted, there weren't any students in the hall.
And even more predictably, Iris subtly signaled to me that she smelled someone else in the room. I didn't want her to tip Tom off, either, after all. He'd ask why Mad-Eye was waiting for me, and why I wanted him to see me successfully enter my name into the Cup.
I couldn't answer that easily, now could I?
"I will need some control."
Tom's magic surged to my left hand, gently pulling for dominance over my magic. I changed my wand to my left hand and I gave him control.
Cold air poured over me when Tom took over. I watched as he moved my left hand with quick movements and whispered spells I could not understand. It was a detached feeling, very odd and uncomfortable. After five quick spells—each a different color—he tossed in my name then fired off a few more spells.
By the end of it, he released his control without fuss and I felt warm again.
We waited a few more minutes to make sure my name wasn't spewed out.
"Brilliant," I laughed, turning on my heel and heading off to bed.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
The following night when it was time for selection there were many anxious chatterings. The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Everyone was constantly craning their necks to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, each impatient to see the chosen champions.
I had to admit I was a touch nervous, too.
If I was selected as a champion, that meant that Harry would be saved from the horrors of facing the tournament unwillingly. I could protect my twin even longer from having to confront Voldemort, and hopefully, I could spare Cedric an untimely death.
I wanted Voldemort as bait. If the Power of Plot was going to insist upon his resurrection, then I would be the one to take advantage of it. I would be the ultimate victor.
It was a risk—I wasn't so arrogant to assume otherwise—but it was necessary. I could not divulge my future knowledge, nor would I dare to allow my brother to compete when I was willing to make that sacrifice.
Voldemort's return was fated; if I couldn't fight it, I would use it.
Crouch would want me as the champion over Harry because I had actively sought to enter myself. It would draw less suspicion toward his plan to revive Voldemort.
And as far as he was concerned, I was as good a candidate as Harry.
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, impatiently waiting.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. In the 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 turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table, moving to Dumbledore. He turned right and 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 was as elegant and beautiful as described in the books. She bounded up front, her long silvery-hair swaying gracefully as she moved.
When Fleur Delacour 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.
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.
Professor Dumbledore stared at the parchment, his expression stiff as a stone. He did not speak for a minute before he slowly said, "The Hogwarts champion is Rosaline Potter."
The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, none of them unsurprised that I had somehow gotten past the age line. The other Houses stared at me in disbelief, Harry in particular seemed horrified. I hopped up from the bench, a big smile on my face as I skipped up.
"Hope you're not too mad," I told Dumbledore.
"More curious how you got past the age line," Dumbledore returned, piercing me with his pale blue gaze.
"How indeed?" I asked because I honestly had no clue how Tom did it. "Don't worry, I'll bring home the win for Hogwarts."
Then I headed into the other room to meet the other champions.
Viktor and Fleur were grouped around the fire in the staff room, both turning to face me as I entered.
"Hello," I politely greeted, extending a hand to Fleur first. "I'm Rosie Potter."
"Fleur Delacour," Fleur introduced herself, accepting my hand. "You do not look old enough."
"I cheated," I admitted to her cheerfully. "I suspect I'll be getting detentions for the rest of the year."
Viktor snorted. "How did you cheat?"
"How indeed?" I asked again, unable to answer their question.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He strode to stand next to me. "Extraordinary, Potter!"
"'E cannot compete," Fleur said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E is too young."
"Well it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at me. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name's come out of the goblet—I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It's down in the rules, you're obliged... "
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. I could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little girl is to compete also!"
Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. She is unmanageable."
"Aww," I cooed, putting a hand over my cheeks. "Shucks, thanks, Professor Snape."
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Rosie?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"Yep."
"How?" he asked again.
"How indeed?" I said for the third time.
"If I may," Tom smoothly interjected. It was clear that he was happy to have gotten the better of Professor Dumbledore if the jumpy smugness in his magic was anything to go by. Gosh if I didn't know any better I'd say Tom got a bit of a high from out maneuvering Professor Dumbledore. He pushed for a bit of control and I relented.
"I went under," Tom, as me, said. "You did not consider negative variables in the age counter. It could not register below zero, and so it became confused. It looped, and I took that opportunity to pry it open."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, realization flickering over his face. "That is rather ingenious of you."
"Yes," Tom agreed, extremely satisfied with himself.
"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our—er—objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, we have plenty of other talented younger students at Durmstrang. We deserve a wider selection. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out—it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"
"—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled Moody from the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contracts, like Dumbledore said."
Bagman looked positively excited.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes... the first task... "
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told me, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important. "The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge... Very enthusiastic... a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff—Madame Maxime—a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. I could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence. The other professors filed out after them.
Now only me, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape remained. I prepared myself for the first of many lectures to come.
"To bed, Miss Potter," said Professor Snape, his eyes glittering dangerously as a warning.
"Yes, sir."
"Detention every Saturday, Miss Potter. For the rest of the year."
"Yep. Expected that."
"What the devil possessed you to do something so insanely stupid?" Professor Snape scolded me.
"Because," I said, "if I'm chosen, Harry won't be."
"What do you mean?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his pale blue eyes assessing me.
"Just a hunch," I said. "Better me than Harry."
"A hunch like with what happened with the Philosopher's Stone?" he gently asked me.
I smiled at him. "Spot on, Professor."
The professors exchanged unreadable looks.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
The Slytherins had thrown a party for me upon my return. There was food, music, and many cheers as they celebrated the fact that a Slytherin was chosen as the Hogwarts Champion.
"Long live the Slytherin Queen!" they cheered, a few of the older students tossing me up in the air.
They wanted to hear all about how I was able to sneak past the line, but I only ever answered with a smile and How indeed?
The party lasted well into the night, only ending around four. Since I was going to get up in a couple of hours anyway I decided to power through. Tom had some more questions about the human nervous system so I tutored him for an hour, then we practiced the piano together for another hour.
I say practiced, but we really goofed off trying to play different songs simultaneously on the same mental piano.
Breakfast time came around and our house was still in a jolly good mood. I got many claps on the back and praises from my peers for my cunning and ability to outwit Dumbledore.
Almost made up for the howler Remus sent me as I buttered my toast.
I was grounded for the foreseeable future.
Go me.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
Bucket List Completed:
48. Enter the TriWizard tournament if it becomes available. If we enter it publicly and loudly enough they might not target Harry and Harry can be spared the trauma.
ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
Answer: Cuddles with someone / something I adore, a good book, yummy drink and snacks, and some nice ambience in the background like a fire with rain outside.
Question: Would you enter the tournament if you could? How would you react if you were forced into it like Harry?
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