the triwizard tournament
A couple of days later it was time to return to Hogwarts, and I was ready. Obviously, it's where Harry and I consider home, but it's also considered one of the safest places in the wizarding world.
We chugged along on the Hogwarts Express, and I tried not to fall asleep. I sat beside Harry and across from Ron with Hermione next to him.
"Anything of the trolley, dears?" a woman asked, pushing her signature cart full of candy. Ron instantly perked up from his half-asleep state, digging in his pocket for some coins.
"Packet of Drobbles and a...Licorice Wand," Ron requested, standing up. I stood up behind him, eager for some candy as well.
"On second thought, just the Droobles," Ron sighed, looking at the money in his hand.
"It's alright, I'll get it. Don't worry," I said, pulling out some coins.
"No, you won't," Ron sighed, trading his money for the candy and sitting back down. I furrowed my eyebrows at him.
"I'll have a cauldron cake please," I turn to the woman and say, handing over my money. We traded and I sat back down across from Ron, glaring at him.
"Are you really upset I didn't let you buy me candy?" Ron looked at me in disbelief.
"As a matter of fact," I said, crossing my arms, "I am."
"You're mental, Harper," Ron sighed, opening his candy and eating some.
"Anything sweet for you, dear?" the trolley lady asked, turning to Harry standing there staring down the corridor.
"No thanks, I'm not hungry," Harry said, sitting down with a lovestruck look on his face.
"Harry, what in Godric's name was that?" I ask, laughing slightly.
"Huh?" he turned to me.
"Who were you just staring at?" I pried.
"Uh...I don't know," Harry sighed, looking out the compartment window even though she was long gone by now. I chuckled before taking another bite of my sweet, watching Harry's heart eyes.
"This is horrible," Hermione scoffed, reading the newspaper. "How can the Ministry just not know who conjured it? Wasn't there any security, or—?"
"Loads—according to Dad," Ron answered.
"Didn't really look like it," I muttered, thinking back to the large group of people that were able to destroy the place in mere minutes.
"That's what worried them so much. Happened right under their noses," Ron went on. Harry scratched his forehead.
"It's hurting again, isn't it?" Hermione asked, watching Harry intently. "Your scar."
"I'm fine," Harry shook his head. I wasn't sure if I believed him.
"You know Sirius will want to hear about this," Hermione told him. "What you saw at the World Cup and the dream."
"Dream?" I ask, looking between them.
"The night before the Cup, I had a weird dream about Voldemort killing a muggle," Harry explained, pulling out some parchment. "It felt so real. And my scar was burning." He pulled out his quill and ink and began writing.
I turned onto my side and lay my legs across Harry's lap, causing him to glare at me and shove them to the floor. I gasped, offended, but curled my legs up to my chest instead. I leaned my head onto the seat back to my left, dozing off.
I woke up to someone aggressively shaking my shoulder.
"Seriously?" I grumbled, stretching my legs out.
"We're here," Harry said, finally letting me go.
"You didn't need to rip my arm off, thanks," I scoffed, standing up and following my friends off the train while Ron laughed.
We make our way into the Great Hall like any other year and I get to watch my second sorting ceremony. The nervous first years become much calmer as they introduce themselves to the people around them.
"Well, now we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," Dumbledore said, standing up behind his podium. "The castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see—Hogwarts has been chosen..." Dumbledore trailed off as Filch came running up the aisle toward him. The two whispered back and forth about something before Filch ran back down the aisle. The four of us exchanged a confused glance as other students tried not to laugh at Filch's...interesting running form.
"So, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore announced. Murmurs erupted at every table. "The Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single student is selected to compete. Now let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted. But more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime."
The doors to the Great Hall opened, and a bunch of girls in pale blue uniforms strolled in, all perfect and poised. They stopped every once in a while to sigh gracefully and stretch their arms out. I couldn't help but be jealous as Ron stared at them shamelessly. They were all so pretty. Much prettier than me.
"Bloody hell!" Ron muttered as the girls ran and released butterflies around them. They were followed by the tallest woman I've ever seen.
The Beauxbatons girls finished their routine, gracefully spinning and then bowing in front of us. Everyone clapped and whistled excitedly. Hermione and I turned and have each other the same knowing look.
"And now our friends from the north. Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff," Dumbledore announced.
The doors opened once again and a bunch of men came in, stomping canes on the ground, chanting and grunting. They spun the canes before smacking them into the ground again, creating sparks. After another spin, they all took off running toward the front. Everyone gasped.
They gasped again as none other than Viktor Krum walked into the room. "Blimey, it's him! Viktor Krum!" Ron said excitedly. I would've teased him, but I wasn't in the mood.
Everyone got settled with Beauxbatons girls and Durmstrang boys sitting on extensions of our tables. The meal began, appearing in front of us and we dug in.
"They're part-Veela," Hermione whispered to me as I glared at Ron who was staring at the group of Beauxbatons girls.
"They're what?" I ask, turning toward her instead.
"A Veela is a woman who can charm and seduce basically anyone attracted to women. They're meant to be extra beautiful and draw people's eyes," Hermione explained.
"Brilliant," I said, looking over at Ron's longing gaze. Even Harry was glancing over there frequently.
"Your attention, please!" Dumbledore said once the desserts had been eaten, quieting everyone. He stood next to a golden tower four people had carried in. "I'd like to say a few words. Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three...extremely dangerous tasks."
"Wicked," Fred and George mumbled together.
"For this reason, the Ministry try has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this, we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch," Dumbledore continued.
The ceiling began to erupt in thunder and lightning, and a man with scars across his face and a glass eye cast a spell to calm it down.
"Bloody hell. It's Mad-Eye Moody," Ron said.
"Alastor Moody? The Auror?" Hermione asked.
"Auror?" I repeated.
"Dark-wizard catcher," Ron explained. "Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him. He's supposed to be mad as a hatter, though, these days."
He hobbled down the stage, using his cane for support. I could definitely tell what Ron was talking about. He greeted Dumbledore before sitting down at the professors' table. Before he sat, he took a big swig from a flask.
"What do you suppose he's drinking?" Seamus asked.
"I don't know, but I don't think it's pumpkin juice," Harry replied.
"Firewhiskey?" I suggested excitedly.
"Harper!" Hermione scolded my excitement.
"What? We're fourth years now, we can go to the quidditch after parties!" I said excitedly. Ron and Harry smiled in agreement.
"Getting drunk isn't going to be beneficial to your classwork," Hermione tutted.
"Life isn't just about classwork, Hermione," I tell her.
Before she could respond, Crouch stepped up to the front of the tower and began speaking. "After due consideration, the Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of 17–"
"—no way!—" someone shouted.
"—shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament," Crouch finished. He was met with immediate upset with groans and shouts of disapproval. "This decision is final."
"That's rubbish!" Fred and George shouted together.
After more shouts and booing, Dumbledore yelled for everyone to shut up. Once everything went quiet, Dumbledore lifted his want, and the golden tower transformed into a goblet. Blue flames erupted from it, casting a glow upon him.
"The Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore stated. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament, need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there's no turning back. As from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."