Malak woke up on Sunday morning rather early and with a bit of a headache — nothing a few drops of painkilling potion couldn't cure. The Egyptian summoned the water on her nightstand, careful not to move too much, so as to not wake up the sleeping figure next to her.
Charlie's arms around her waist tightened as he subconsciously felt her movement, bringing her closer to him while he mumbled something in his sleep.
Looking at him sleeping so peacefully, Malak felt content — her heart was simply full. She wanted to capture that image in her mind forever. Him, right there, with eyes closed, while his features were slightly illuminated by the morning light that filtered across the fabric curtains of her four poster bed, highlighting every freckle of his handsome face and enhancing his flaming red hair.
Malak decided that it wasn't yet time to wake up as he nuzzled up against her and brought her closer once again. She smirked, and her hand started to delicately comb through his hair and she kissed the top of his head affectionately, while remembering the events of the previous night, once the party was over and everybody has gone to sleep.
Harry was supposed to be part of the small celebration and he was instrumental in Charlie leaving the castle safely, so his default had forced the dragon tamer to stay for the night.
"I guess we could very well count as my own birthday gift" said Charlie, sitting on the edge of her bed, and moving the curtains on his side, while Malak did the same on hers.
"I guess it's mine as well" smiled her, now jumping in the bed and hugging Charlie.
He took a minute to enjoy the hug, before speaking again, "well, there is actual gifts, you know."
"No! You shouldn't have!"
"It's not much, you know I've been terribly busy, bunny" he continued, handing her a big box that had been under the bed the whole time.
Malak opened carefully to reveal stuffed Romanian Longhorn about the size of a small dog.
"I remembered you saying you wanted a stuffed dragon as a kid and your grandma didn't—"
But his sentence was cut short by the hug of an overly excited Egyptian witch. "I love it! And it's gigantic! Almost like a real dragon!"
"Yeah, almost..." he chuckled. "But I figured you could cuddle with him when I'm not with you."
Malak gave him a half smile. "Not tonight, though."
"I also bring you real gifts from Egypt" continued the dragon tamer, now revealing three additional boxes. "Bill is kind of mad at you, though. He wants a linked parchment. He literally said 'she owes me that much'."
"Owes? Wow" Malak laughed. "A bit entitled that brother of yours, isn't he?
"Yeah, tell me about it. I've put up with him all my life, literally."
"Did he bring this to Romania?" questioned Malak, opening the small box containing bakhoor of different scents.
"Actually I went to Egypt..." Charlie started. "And I saw your father."
Malak stopped all motion momentarily and looked at him with wide eyes, not uttering a word.
"He sends you this one, and he wishes he could be here" Charlie continued, handing her a medium sized box, carefully wrapped in a golden shiny paper.
Malak took the present in her hands, still bearing a worried and shocked expression. "How... like, was he...?"
"He wasn't exactly thrilled to see me at first, as you can imagine" Charlie continued, "I went to Bill's first and then we went to your house — I know he likes brother, so I figured he wouldn't kill me in front of him..."
"I wouldn't be so sure—" Malak tried to joke.
"Wow, yeah, the reassurance bunny, thanks!" Charlie gave her the fakest smile. "But then I explained the plan and he liked it so he agreed to give me his gift. And this other one is Remus's" he added, signaling the third box.
Malak went to open her father'a present, but Charlie stopped her. "He said you should open it on your own."
"Are you sure he was nice to you?" Malak asked in disbelief.
"I wouldn't say 'nice', but he didn't shove me against a wall — baby steps."
Malak laughed a bit too loud, before opening Remus' present and finally going to sleep.
The Egyptian witch would have wished to rejoice in the memories of the previous night just a moment longer, but Angelina's alarm clock just a few meters away from her own bed, brought her back abruptly and almost painfully.
Charlie stirred next to her, also awoken by the sudden noise, and yawned loudly while stretching his body — his joints cracking with the movement.
"Saba7 el kheir (good morning)" greeted Malak, pecking his cheek.
"Saba7 el fol (good morning)" replied he with a yawn.
"Did you sleep well, my sleepyhead?"
He looked at her blinking. "Yeah... not nearly enough, though."
"You are overexerting yourself, ya habibi" Malak concerned look.
"Just about 1 more month" he said absentmindedly, giving Malak a clue that would definitely come in hand for Harry's training, or so she thought.
"Why the long face?" Malak asked, sitting down next to Harry Potter, who looked particularly distressed that morning.
"Are you ready to start?" Malak continued "or should we talk first?"
"Apparently Ron is jealous" blurted Harry.
"Ron is an idiot" she replied, almost too fast.
"Well, he happens to be my best friend and he could soon be your brother in law" Harry tried, but was soon brought down by his own tormented thoughts. "The whole school thinks I'm a fraud, Malak."
"Well, what better way to prove them wrong than by smashing this first task, huh?"
"I am really not in the mood to train" Harry said.
"Oh no, no, no" Malak shook her head. "This is not the attitude, Potter."
After a small pause, the Egyptian continued. "You could very well die in this tournament if you are not properly prepared."
"Yeah, Hermione has pointed that out several times, thank you" Harry spoke sarcastically.
"Look, Harry it's easy to give up, but it takes a lot of courage and effort to actually do something about the situation you've been put to."
"But the question is, why Malak? Why have I been put to this? By who?" A frustrated Harry questioned, and then he added in a low voice "I can't stop thinking about it."
"I wish I had those answers, Harry, but I don't. Right now, you should think about this training as if it was Quidditch practice — a way to evade yourself through physical effort, because it does take a lot of physical effort to duel, Potter" Malak spoke, standing up and giving him a hand for him to do so.
Harry sighed, and reluctantly took the Egyptian's hand.
"Ok, let's start simple" Malak said. "The stunning spell."
Harry simply stood there, looking at her.
"What is the stunning spell, Harry?"
"I don't know."
Malak gulped loudly, and tried with all her willpower to conceal the concern from her factions. "Stupefy. And the shield charm?"
"Protego?"
"Yes! Good..." she encouraged. "We are going to focus on those two today. Obviously one is offensive and the other, defensive. Since you knew the charm, I assume you can do a shield?"
"But I thought it was to protect a place or a thing, not oneself..."
"It can be used for both. Just you'd need to focus it around you. We are going to start with me trying to stun you and you will use protego to stop me."
"Ok..."
"Let's go!" Malak spoke. "I'll use my index as a wand and I'll say the spell out-loud so that it's easier at first."
Harry nodded.
"Stupefy!"
"Pr—" but Harry couldn't finish, failing completely to conjure the shield and getting knocked out almost immediately.
"This is going to be a long road..."
Five hours later however, Harry Potter had learned the incantation and movements of the stunning spell, and he had been able to block a couple of attacks from the Egyptian.
"I think we are done for the day" Malak finally announced.
"No! I want to keep going!"
She chuckled as she ruffled his hair affectionately. "You have to rest too. Did you write to my dad?
"No I didn't. Hermione says I should."
"I quite agree with her. Why don't you meet her and go to the owlery?"
"Yeah" he agreed, finally parting ways with his godsister.
The moment that Malak had been dreading the whole day had come. As she went back to her room and she saw the present her dad had send her, she knew she could not keep pushing it. She had do write to him.
Shukran gazilan 3ala el 7edeya, ya baba! To7fa bgad! (Thank you so much for the present, dad! It's really beautiful!)
Minutes later, Sirius Black replied to his daughter.
You are welcome, my baby girl.
I just don't know when I'm going to use it.
Oh, you'll find out very very soon! ;)
Tell me, what happened? I should be congratulating you, shouldn't I?
I was chosen as Hogwarts champion...
... alongside Harry — you'll hear it from him soon, so don't tell him I mentioned it.
There was a long pause, and Malak knew her dad was processing the information and thinking his words through.
I thought you said minors couldn't submit their names.
They couldn't. There was an Age Line, traced by Dumbledore.
He must have made a mistake.
Dumbledore? With an Age Line? Yeah, sure...
Harry didn't submit his name, I looked into his memories.
Mad-Eye's theory is that a very strong confundus charm made the Goblet of Fire believe there was a fourth school and he was the only participant from that school.
It's actually a very good theory.
But who could have done it?
Karkaroff was a Death Eater —you should keep an eye on him.
And you need to help Harry out, Malak, or he will die.
I know, dad. We started training today. Stunning spell and shield charm.
Once he's good with those we are going to do the conjunctivitis curse and the confundus charm.
I have a good reason to believe that there will be dragons involved on the first task, which is less than 1 month away.
When exactly?
Did Charlie tell you that?
November 24th.
Not directly, but he mentioned that he'll have less work in December, and he knew about the tournament so...
Ask him.
No! I won't put him in that position, dad. He can't tell me.
Ok, you need to teach Harry the fiendfyre curse and the fireproof charm.
Dad, he didn't even know stupefy — there is no way he can manage the fiendfyre curse... I can barely do it myself.
The cursed flames are the only thing that will kill the dragon, if strong enough.
Why would we need to kill a dragon!!?
I am not killing one! And I don't think Marcu Balan would agree to provide dragons to be slaughtered.
We need to figure out what you are going to have to do...
I'll talk to Harry as well.
Just be careful, dad.
You too Malaki. You too.
About two weeks later, Harry had managed to learn to perfection the first incantations Malak had taught him, together with the confundus charm. Today after class, she was planning to start on the conjunctivitis curse and perhaps reveal to him her theories regarding the first task.
But first, the Egyptian had to survive a particularly tough transfiguration class, in which they were practicing human transfiguration spells — and partnering with Lee Jordan proved to be a fatal mistake. Currently, Malak was donning a poorly done ombre neon green hair, her left eye was white and the right one, pink. She would have paid good money to see herself, and judging by Lee's luck with the spells, she was going to get lucky.
All of a sudden however, a Hufflepuff boy of no more than second year entered the classroom, panting. "Professor McGonagall!"
"What is it, Donnelly?"
"Mr. Bagman, Ma'am. He wants Malak Aboul Gheit" he announced, trying to regain his breath. "It's for the tournament."
Malak quickly stood up from her chair, and upon seeing him, the Donnelly boy let out a loud shriek.
"JORDAN CHANGE HER BACK IMMEDIATELY" bellowed the Head of the Gryffindor House, who hadn't notice her appearance until that moment.
"I wish I could, professor" Lee smiled nervously.
"I think they want to take pictures!" the boy spoke, in a panicked tone.
"Great, let's go" beamed Malak, walking towards the messenger, but with a flick of the wand of Minerva McGonagall, she was back to her original appearance.
"Buzzkill!" one of the twins said as she exited the classroom, possibly making their house lose a few points.
The Egyptian witch was led into a fairly small classroom, where most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch wearing magenta robes, who Malak presumed was infamous 'journalist' Rita Skeeter. The only champion present so far was Viktor Krum.
"Good afternoon" greeted the Egyptian.
"Malak!" Ludo Bagman stood quickly to greet her. "Lovely to see you! Excited about the tournament, are you? Let me introduce you to —"
At that particular moment, Fleur entered the room, and Malak could not be more thankful for her timing — she did not want anything to do with Bagman after the leprechaun gold incident.
"Bonjour Fleur. Ça va? (Good morning Fleur. How are you?)" Malak addressed the French champion.
"Pas mal, en fait. Et toi, Malak? J'ai entendue que tu entraînes à Harry Potter? (Not bad, actually. And you Malak? I've heard you are training Harry Potter?)"
"Oui, c'est juste. On ne veut pas que quelqu'un est blessé... ou mort. (Yes, that's right. We don't want someone to end up hurt... or dead.)"
The door barged open once more, revealing no other than Harry Potter himself. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward to talk to him, and eventually, Malak saw from the corner of her eye that he introduced him to Rita Skeeter.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" Malak heard her say to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?"
The Egyptian witch walked the room I three long strides towards them, ready to rescue her godbrother.
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is —if Harry has no objection?"
"Er -" said Harry.
"I didn't hear him agreeing" snarled Malak, making all eyes turn to her, and those of Rita Skeeter examined her thoroughly.
"So, Harry?" the woman spoke, with a fake smile that Malak was very tempted to erase from her face.
"It will definitely be a interesting piece" Bagman added, making Harry nod finally, much to the Egyptian's dismay.
"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her fingers grabbed Harry's upper arm, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.
"I don't think this is a good idea" Malak addressed Bagman. "And you should know better, Mr. Bagman, he has enough pressure as it is" she added, giving him a stare.
Malak didn't go very far from the door, and suddenly she heard Harry say loudly "I have NOT got tears in my eyes!"
Just as she was going to intervene and pul the door open, Albus Dumbledore beated her to it.
"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight. "How are you?" she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"
"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."
Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed.
"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street —"
"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start. Harry — Malak."
Dumbledore guided the two of them to sit in chairs near the door, next to Viktor and Fleur, hooking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting — Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman, with Rita Skeeter settling herself down in a corner.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
An old wizard with large, pale eyes went to stand in the center of the room and addressed Fleur first.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?"
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand. "Hmm..." he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
Of course Malak thought to herself, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you... Very well, very well, it's in fine working order. " said Mr. Ollivander, handing the wand to Fleur.
"Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Olhivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches...Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand.
"Ms. Aboul Gheit?"
"I don't have a wand" Malak spoke, making all the judges but Dumbledore gasp.
"Well, you must get a replacement immediately!" Bagman stood up, "Mr. Ollivander could you—"
"I've never used a wand in my life" Malak spoke calmly in a soft voice. "And unless the tournament rules require so, I don't plan on starting now."
"And how do you expect to cast a spell then, girl?" Rita Skeeter intervened with a bit of a yell, making Malak's eyes open wide.
"Wandlessly, of course" Malak gave her the sweetest smile and the most innocent voice she could muster. "As if by magic" she added with a light, sincere chuckle.
"Oh, yes! It's quite common in Africa, isn't it?" Mr. Ollivander commented, "I guess that leaves... Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet and walked to Mr. Ollivander, handing over his wand.
"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ohlivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Mr. Ollivander didn't reveal any details about his wand andspent much longer examining Harry's wand, which Malak found extremely suspicious. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —"
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Er — yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long long time, but at last they were over and Malak and Harry headed to the Great Hall.
"If there ever is another wand weighting, promise me you'll kill me, Harry."
But it was bound to get much worse, for the next day Rita Skeeter's article on the tournament was published, and despite it turned out to be a highly colored life story of Harry, the mention of "the other Hogwarts Champion" had not been amicable to Malak.
In fact, the words of the so-called journalist towards the Egyptian witch had been quite brutal. Just remembering them made her sick.
Malak Aboul Gheit, who portraits herself as a seemingly innocent little lamb, refused to part-take in the tournament's Ancient tradition of the Weighting of the Wands. The uncouth young lady, if she could even be referred as that, for she bares more resemblance with a indecent dry stick, — probably as a consequence of a eating disorder of some sort — proved to be a simple and boorish hick, ignoring completely the rituals of the competition and thus disrespecting both her rivals and the school that she has been chosen to champion for. Her behaviour however, comes as no surprise, for it is only natural that the bastard daughter of a famously promiscous mother will develop deplorable manners and hold no sense of decorum and propriety.
"Well, Harry, I suppose your piece isn't so bad compare to mine" Malak had patted his shoulder reassuringly, as she stood up from her sit at the Great Hall.
"I think I'm going to call you 'innocent little lamb' from now on" Lee smiled "what do you think?"
"Better than 'indecent dry stick,' I suppose."
Thank you so much for reading and sorry for the long wait for this update!
Hope you've liked... and now, who is ready for the first task!? 🙋🏽♀️
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