Remus' reply came a few days later, along with a bar of chocolate to make me feel better and some words of encouragement. With that, came the news that he had got a new job in a local book store. He now had the finances to restore his family cottage for my return in the summer holidays and to say I was excited, would be an understatement.
I served an evening's detention with Moody, but I felt he went a little easier on me than anticipated; merely asking I sort his things which he was yet to unpack, in his office. Our following lesson with him went as smoothly as one could anticipate, life at Hogwarts resuming some sort of normality.
However, I missed my broom. And Quidditch, in general. I hadn't played a match in several months, after all. And Snape hadn't helped me learn to fly at all, after the last incident in which my broom bucked me from it and I performed unsupported flight. I couldn't tell my fellow team members about my indisposition and I feared it would worry Harry were I to tell him. So, I would spend a Saturday morning or two down by the Quidditch pitch, alone, just to sit on the grass and look at it, wishing I could play just one game. It wasn't long before even that luxury was taken from me, the pitch being cornered off at Dumbledore's request, at the end of September 1994.
We entered October far quicker than I had anticipated the first month of school to go. With the arrival of the two other schools and my thirteenth birthday in short approach, I found my excitement brewing at what was to take place in the new school year, even without Quidditch. Alastor Moody kept his word, no longer torturing animals with his twisted teachings but, instead, practising curses on his students; our following lesson consisting of the Imperio curse being tested on each of us, so he could garner our strength. It was horrible, having to bend to someone else's will without reason.
To my surprise most of the Gryffindor students, Harry included, liked Professor Moody. I, however, found him almost as detestable as Gilderoy Lockhart. To my surprise, my grades were improving in DADA, so he must have been doing something right.
With time, came the unspoken forgiveness of my Potion's Professor. Our additional, weekend classes had now been put on hold, with the events of the Triwizard Tournament taking priority over extra-curricular activities. With that, brought more headaches as I found myself losing control over my Legilimency, once more.
Thoughts of my peers were seeping into my own mind, along with a very unfortunate event in DADA that led to Moody's thoughts penetrating my mind; images of torture and mayhem would flash through my thoughts, leading to a very embarrassing need to leave his room; the rest of the class shocked at my sudden outburst.
The remaining, few days in October were now upon the school; the air turning chilly as we awaited the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, in the Entrance Hall. I held my cloak close to my chest, standing between Draco and Gregory. Each Head of House was checking the uniform of each student, making sure we were pristine and ready to greet the other school's.
"I heard a lot of the students from Beauxbatons are half-veela. Like we need anymore competition!" Pansy angrily cursed at her friend, Millicent. I merely scoffed, shaking my head dismissively at the girl before, "Look!"
My gaze averted in the direction a Hufflepuff student had pointed towards, a small dot nearing in the distant sky. As it grew closer, I realised it was a marvellous, silver carriage; easily the size of a house, being drawn by horses. They, too, were abnormally large as they flew towards us, rearing and coming to a soft landing in the courtyard. The Beauxbatons Academy logo brandished the carriage, the doors opening as students began to exit. Boys and girls stood in pale, blue uniforms; more emitting from the carriage than physically possible.
The last to exit was a woman, older and much taller than the rest; who had to bend her knees slightly in order to fit through the door. She might have even been taller than Professor Hagrid, yet she had a certain ere of royalty about her; adorned in the finest silks and materials and jewels I had ever seen; her image spoke of her immense wealth as she walked towards Professor Dumbledore, greeting her with a kiss to her hand.
"Ah, Madame Maxine. Welcome to Hogwarts." He spoke softly and sincerely, with the warmest smile I had ever seen the Headmaster portray.
"Professor Dumbly-dorr. I 'ope you are well." She smiled, accepting his welcome graciously. The Headmaster nodded in response, "Very well, thank you."
A few more, small-talk exchanges were to take place regarding Madame Mazine's horses, before she left the courtyard to go into The Great Hall and warm up. But the cold didn't bother me too much. It never did, after the Black Lake.
The rest of the students were, evidently, starting to feel the effects of the cold, October weather. As we waited for the next school to arrive. Within a few more minutes, however, a Gryffindor student was shouting for everyone to look to the Black Lake, where a typhoon was beginning to form in the water. Within moments, a huge mast had erupted from it's watery depths and was headed towards the shore; the Durmstrang flag decorated its sails, the wind drawing it closer to the school.
Students would emerge shortly, greeting us with nothing more than a nod before continuing with their journey into the Great Hall. A trio of, seemingly, more important students warranted a gasp from some of the Hogwarts crowd; my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I fought to see over the swarm.
"Merlin! It's him!" I heard Ron gasp from the other side of the crowd. Draco now let out an audible breath in disbelief. And the only words that could escape his lips as the Head of Durmstrang greeted professor Dumbledore was, "Viktor Krum."
My eyes widened, turning to face the boy in disbelief, "The Bulgarian Seeker?" Draco could do nothing with his mouth agape, but nod; The Dumstrang Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, fawning over the famous student as he ushered him into the hall.
Lots of girls and a few boys ran after the new celebrity, in attempt to get a better look or an autograph. "I wish I had a quill on me." Draco sighed, rather angrily with himself. "He's going to be here all term, Draco. I'm sure you'll get your chance." I laughed, patting him on the back in feigned sympathy. He swatted my arm away, jokingly, as we followed the rest of the students and took a seat at the Slytherin table; which had now been extended to accommodate the Dumstrang students, who would also be staying in our Common Room.
Dumbledore stood by his podium, ready to address the school as our whispers came to a halt. "Welcome, to our esteemed guests. I hope that your stay at Hogwarts will be both enjoyable and comfortable. The Tournament will officially be opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink and make yourselves at home." With his words, food began to appear on the unoccupied plates; the house elves in the kitchens out-doing themselves, as usual.
Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch Sr. had arrived, occupying the extra seats at the staff table, as they dug into the feast. "Ugh! What is that?" Draco snarled at a plate filled with food I didn't recognize. A Norwegian delicacy, to my knowledge.
"It is Fårikål," A voice called slightly further down the table, my gaze averting onto none other than Viktor Krum as he addressed the boy beside me. "How do you say - mutton and cabbage?" Draco's cheeks flushed tomato-red at this, as he found himself at a loss for words; merely averting his gaze back onto his own plate.
I nearly snorted my pumpkin juice through my nostrils, having to hold back a laugh as I took some from the plate and looked back down the table, where a Viktor Krum was smiling softly towards me. I merely returned the gesture with a curt nod, before beginning to dig into the dish; which was, surprisingly, delicious. The desserts were even better, as I found myself filled to the brim with food by the time it would all disappear back to the kitchens.
"The moment has come," Professor Dumbledore would announce at the front of the hall, crumbs still in his whitening beard as he addressed the schools. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to commence. First, let me introduce to those of you that do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch Sr, head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." An applause followed this introduction, as I found myself questioning whether he knew Marcus Flint, who was now an apprentice in his area at the Ministry. Where the opportunity presented itself, I was determined to question him on the matter.
"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked together to make sure the necessary arrangements have been made in preparation for the Tournament, and will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxine as judges. The casket, if you please, Mr Filch." Dumbledore motioned towards the entrance doors, as the caretaker began to wheel a casket down the aisle, bringing it to a halt in front of the wise Headmaster.
"There will be three tasks, total, throughout the school year. These have been designed to test our champions in many different ways. One will be selected from each of the participating schools. The champion with the highest rating from our judging panel will win the Triwizard Cup, 1000 galleons and eternal glory." I found myself straightening in my seat, suddenly wishing I were old enough to compete. To think of how much that money would help Remus. Mind, I did have my parent's money, split between myself and Harry. Not that Remus would ever accept it. But was the reward really worth the risk?
"The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector; The Goblet of Fire." Professor Dumbledore pressed his wand against the casket, opening it and presenting a cup to us all. Old and made from wood and slightly rusted, he closes the case and places the goblet atop it, for everyone to see.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves must write their name onto a bit of parchment and drop it into the Goblet. Aspiring champions will be given twenty-four hours in which to put their name forth. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has deemed most worthy to represent their school. It will be placed in the entrance hall for anyone to access, should they wish to enter. And to ensure no underage Wizard is tempted to enter, I will be drawing an age line surrounding the Goblet. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."
I felt Draco sink into his seat, slightly. "Did you really want to enter that badly?" I scoffed, too low for anyone else to hear. Draco's eyebrows furrowed, "Eternal glory. Who would want to pass that up?" He spoke as though it were obvious, causing me to smile and shake my head towards him, averting my attention back to the front of the hall.
As Dumbledore dismissed us to our common rooms, many seventh-year students and some from the other, competing schools, began to write their names onto a piece of parchment; putting it into the Goblet without hesitation. It's blue flames engulfed the many names, Viktor Krum being one of the first to enter as his own school applauded him. I watched with a slight twinge of envy, now wishing I was old enough to enter. But I couldn't dwell on it, for it was my thirteenth birthday tomorrow. And nothing could stop me from enjoying it...