"So, now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices." Maeve listened quietly as Dumbledore spoke. She wasn't able to sit with her friends at the start of term feast, but just being back at Hogwarts was enough to put a smile on her face.
"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming yo-yo's, Fanged Frisbees and Ever Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises of some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." Maeve's mind involuntarily wandered to George, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all those below the third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
An uproar of protests rose from the students, and Mae chuckled at Cedric's being one of the loudest. Dumbledore held up a hand, waiting for the room to settle once more.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"
A loud boom of thunder rang out, and Maeve flinched. The enchanted sky above them began to mimic the storm raging outside, and the doors to The Great Hall flew open. A rather frightening man with a wooden leg and a prosthetic eye hobbled in, walking up to exchange hushed words with the headmaster before sending what looked like a bolt of lightning at the ceiling, restoring the calm sky.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody. As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the TriWizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." an excited hush of whispers grew, and Maeve saw even Draco Malfoy looked relatively eager, "The TriWizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry - Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the Tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued."
Maeve rolled her eyes. Of course.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to re-instate the Tournament, none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find themselves in mortal danger." That's likely, Mae thought. "The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the TriWizard Cup, the glory of their school and a thousand Galleons personal prize money. Eager though I know you all will be to bring the TriWizard Cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put their names forward for consideration. This-"
Another roar of outrage erupted, and Maeve laughed when she heard Fred and George call out, "That's rubbish!"
"is a measure that we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and remaining with us for a greater part of this year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Maeve trickled out of the hall with her housemates, contemplating entering her own name. No. She wasn't an idiot. And she wouldn't risk her life for eternal glory. Then, she pictured Nova and Cedric. Both brave, both stupid. She swallowed. She only hoped they had enough sense in them to evaluate the dangers. She knew they wouldn't.
The next morning, as she glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror, Maeve pursed her lips. The bags under her eyes were too prominent, her cheeks too angular, and the black eyeliner framing her umber eyes only added to her already ghostly appearance. Sighing, the girl pulled on her leather satchel, green converse echoing on the dungeon floor as she departed from her dorm. She always woke early. Although she hated the process of actually waking up, it always took her about twenty minutes, the morning was her favourite time of day. It was comfortingly cold, apart from the warmth sprinkled across the courtyard by the first rays of the sun descending onto Hogwarts, and even though Nova and Lorelei were always asleep, Cedric often joined her.
When she collapsed into her seat at the Slytherin table, Maeve found herself briefly reading this term's transfiguration textbook, picking at bacon and toast as she did so. A familiar ginger slid into the seat beside her, earning a dirty look from one of her peers, and the girl furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Hi?"
He ignored her shocked tone, only giving her a dazzling grin, "Just came to say hi, love, and see how you're doing."
"Hm. And is your other half asleep, then?" She tried to ignore his cheerful voice, shovelling another piece of bacon into her mouth, followed by a large sip of tea.
"Always is," George sighed in mock disappointment, "Are you eating those? Great!"
He didn't wait for her response, but still picked up a fork and casually ate the eggs off of the side of her plate. Maeve shifted slightly, not uncomfortable but certainly not comfortable, either. George was confusing. Why was he acting like they were old friends? Acting so... domestic? She didn't dwell on it, she hated eggs, anyway.
"So, how're you doing? Is your shoulder okay?" George asked through a mouthful.
Maeve nodded meekly, feeling her face warm considerably, "Yeah, uh, Amos fixed it but I have a scar now, so..."
"Cool!"
The Slytherin flushed and gave him a small, flustered smile. He returned it happily and reached over her to pluck her schedule out of her hands.
"Look at that, we both have Charms first! Oh, and we have Transfiguration and Defence together." He nudged her playfully and Mae grinned, snatching it back from him, "All my classes with the darling Maeve Fahey, how exciting!"
"It's Farley, George."
"Oh." the boy nodded, seriously, "That makes more sense."
Maeve snorted, shaking her head at him. Hesitating, she glanced at him nervously, "Walk with me? To class?"
She watched his eyes flicker back to where Fred and Lee were entering the Great Hall and cleared her throat, embarrassed, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'd like to walk with Fred. I have to catch up to Nova, anyway, she never eats breakfast..."
Mae realised she had begun rambling, and shut her mouth quickly, feeling impossibly small under George's amused gaze.
"I'll walk with you." He said simply.
She swallowed nervously, nodding, and finished her tea. Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she walked with the boy, listening to him babble about products he and Fred had invented for their joke shop - Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes. Maeve liked the name and she told him so. She thought their inventions were brilliant, and she told him that, too. Then, it was George's turn to blush.
Once they reached Flitwick's class, Mae bid him goodbye and hurried to find her friend while George turned to collect Fred and Lee. Maeve's stomach was alive, twisting with butterflies and her heart was beating so erratically she feared it would fall out of her chest.
"Morning, Love."
Nova glared tiredly at her, groaning as she stretched again, "It's too early for class. How do they expect me to focus in these conditions?"
A laugh bubbled from Mae as she led the two to their usual seats, settling into the hard wooden chairs. The two chatted carelessly, ignoring Professor Flitwick as he bustled around. As long as they were on time, he wouldn't care. The class started filling up, and sure enough, Fred and George Weasley entered with Lee and Angelina, the slightly shorter twin flashing Maeve a smirk, to which she blushed and quickly looked away, ducking her head.
Nova gave her a curious glance, "Why is Weasley looking at you? And why did you walk to class with him?"
"We, uh, met at the Cup. I told you this on the train."
"You also told me he was the most gorgeous man alive and that you were in love with him, and I don't think either of those are true. Well, maybe the second..."
Mae shoved her, "Shut up."
"Settle down," Flitwick squeaked, "As you are all aware, this year you will begin studying for NEWTs. Very important, yes, very important. Not to worry, I have full faith in you all. However, some of you seem to have problems with focusing in your current seating arrangements," the Weasley twins snickered at his pointed glare, "So I'll be pairing you up."
A collective groan echoed through the class, and Maeve and Nova sent each other a panicked look.
"Flint, go with Jordan. Love, Baker. Weasley, no, Fred, Bell. Spinnet, Greengrass. Weasley, yes, I mean George, Farley."
Maeve's stomach dropped. She froze in her seat as he happily slid in next to her, eyes locked with Nova as her best friend grinned teasingly, laughing. She had been seated with Cecelia Baker, one of her dorm mates, so she was perfectly content. Maeve was not content. She couldn't possibly focus with George sitting next to her. Especially with his tie loose around his neck and his sleeves rolled up and his perfect hair ruffled-
"Don't look so horrified, Farley, I might think you don't want to sit with me." George teased, pulling out his quill and ink.
"Maybe I don't." the Slytherin teased quietly, trying to focus on Flitwick as the class began.
He chuckled, crossing his hand over his chest, "You wound me, Maeve."
She swallowed, busying herself with notes. She hid her flushed face with her long, dark hair, willing the pink tint to go away.
The lesson continued without much interruption, Maeve had even managed to use the Oppungo charm on her third try! Of course, George had other ideas. Turning around to his brother, they were talking lowly about a prank. Mae ignored them, or tried to, she always had been far too curious, until she heard them whispering about Marcus Flint.
Her ears perked up, and she turned around subtly. She despised Flint so deeply her eye twitched at the thought of him.
"I still think we should dye it red," Fred murmured, trying not to draw Flitwick's attention. It? What was it?
George seemed to agree, "We could charm it in his sleep, or put a potion in his shampoo. We'd just need to get into his common room. And make sure Minnie doesn't catch us sneaking out of ours." His hair!
Maeve spoke quietly, suddenly, shocking the boys next to her, "He hates purple. And yellow. But you could always make it red and gold like Gryffindor, he'd hate that, too. Oh, and his whole dorm is disgusting, so they share the same like, 400-in-1, soap, so if you put a potion in that you could dye his and his dorm mate's hair."
They stared at her, startled, and she suddenly became self-conscious, adding a small, "If you want."
"You're brilliant!" George beamed. She couldn't hide her red face, the complement sending heat rushing to her cheeks.
"Do the other dorms do the same, with the soap?" Fred asked, eagerly.
Maeve shrugged, "I don't know, maybe. You could look, I guess."
George poked her in the side as she turned back to her work, "What's the password?"
"Mr Weasley! Enough." Flitwick called sharply.
"Sorry, sir," he smiled sheepishly, lowering his voice so Maeve could barely hear him, "What's the password?"
The Slytherin sighed, scrawling the password onto a piece of parchment, sliding it over to the boy plagued with persistence. He took it, and she frowned at the small tearing she heard. Looking over, she watched him tuck the torn piece with the password into his pocket.
A few seconds later, the remaining paper was passed back to her, this time with his own writing scribbled across it.
Thanks, love.
Whatever. If my hair ends up coloured I will kill you.
It won't, promise.
She hid her smile, eyeing her professor, before dipping her quill into more ink and passing the note back again.
Who's Minnie?
McGonagall, you moron.
Shut up, git. I hope your stupid prank fails and you get caught by Filch or something.
He laughed, and Flitwick quickly scolded him again. Maeve grinned. It was true, she was completely enamoured by George Weasley. But Maeve was a realist, and, realistically, George would bore of her soon anyway.
And honestly, Mae wasn't built for that kind of rejection.
A/N
mae's uniform above :)