\ wherein things go horribly wrong /
THE NEXT TWO DAYS PASSED without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Severus Snape gave Neville detention without hesitation, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.
"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron as we watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.
"Yeah," I said, pursing my lips. "Moody."
"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," Harry said thoughtfully.
"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad," said Ron, his eyes misting over, "and bounced him all around his dungeon. . . "
"It's kind of unnerving you think about Snape becoming a toad," I muttered, grimacing. "I mean...to each their own, but if those are the fantasies that keep you up at n-"
"Shut up."
Everyone was looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they all queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.
"Been in the -"
"Library. " I finished, rolling my eyes. "C'mon, quick."
Ron, Hermione, and Harry hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, waiting for me to join them as they took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, but I frowned, not wanting to be near the crazy lunatic who would soon appear, and took a seat at the back of the classroom beside a boy with messy dirty blonde hair, who was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed.
"Hi," I whispered, barely breaking the silence that the whole class had attained.
"Hello," He said casually in a low voice, waving slightly and outstretching a hand. "I'm James, James McCoy."
"I'm Pheobe."
"I should tell you something," he nodded, "now that we're friends and all."
"Wh-"
"I'm actually in fifth year." I blinked.
"What?"
"Just came here to see how this class'd be. I don't have it 'til next week, figured might as well show up to see how it is."
"Wait, this isn't- you're not in the class?" he nodded lightly.
"Thanks for telling me I look like a fourth year, though," he wrinkled his nose as he surveyed his robes, his blue and bronze tie undone and his robes way too big for him. I frowned and opened my mouth to say something just when we heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor. He entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. We could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
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"Balderdash. "
The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and me, Harry, and Ron climbed into the Gryffindor common room after dinner in which Hermione had abandoned us for the library once more, which was crowded and noisy.
"Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?" I said finally, surveying the room. Ron groaned loudly.
"I s'pose," Harry said, a twinkle of amusement in his eye upon surveying his ginger friend before him.
I headed to the girls dormitory to fetch my books and charts and returned to the warm common room minutes later, finding an empty table and opening up my copy of Unfogging the Future. Harry and Ron returned a few minutes later, and the three of us set to work on our predictions for the coming month.
An hour later, we had made very little progress, though our table was littered with bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols, and my brain was as fogged as though it had been filled with the fumes from Professor Trelawney's fire.
"I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean," I said, staring down at a long list of calculations. "You?"
"Nah," said Harry, looking as confused as I felt. "Don't think we'll ever figure out what the fuck this means."
"You know," said Ron, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, "I think it's back to the old Divination standby. "
"What - make it up?"
"Yeah," said Ron, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and starting to write.
"Next Monday," he said as he scribbled, "I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter. "
He looked up at Harry and I, who were staring at him with raised eyebrows. "Just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up. "
"Yeah, okay," I said finally, picking up my pen once more.
"Right," said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first years into the fire. "Okay. . . on Monday, I will be in danger of - er..."
"Burns," I suggested.
"Yeah, you will be," said Ron darkly, "we're seeing the skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, I'll. . . erm. . . "
"Lose a treasured possession," I said, flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas.
"Good one," said Ron, copying it down. "Because of. . . erm. . . Mercury. Harry, why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"
"Yeah. . . cool. . . " said Harry, scribbling it down, "because. . . Venus is in the twelfth house. "
I froze suddenly, and something struck me instantaneously, muddling up my thoughts. On Monday, we would probably be burned, soon Harry would lose a treasured posession- Ron- and Ron would eventually be the one to stab Harry in the back by saying Harry put his name in the Goblet of Fire on his own.
These prophecies may not come true the day they're predicted to, but they will eventually.
she never thought inside the box. she'd demolish the box.
"...and on Wednesday, I think I'll come off worst in a fight." said Ron, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts.
"Pheobe, you could lose a bet," said Ron, hunched over his parchment. I shook off the thoughts- it wasn't like any of this would actually happen, I was probably just sleep-deprived- and nodded, writing it down.
We continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around us slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to us, leapt lightly onto my lap, and stared inscrutably at Harry, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren't doing their homework properly.
Hermione climbed into the common room ten minutes later, carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.
"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"
"So have I!" said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.
Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.
"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.
"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned.
"You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione.
"Oh am I?" said Ron, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them."
"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione.
"How dare you!" said Ron, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.
Harry laid down his quill too, and I pulled his sheet towards me, in need of one more prediction, only to find that the only one I hadn't used was 'a gruesome death by decapitation of a raging herd of centaurs.' I raised an eyebrow up at Harry, who grinned sheepishly, shrugging lightly.
"What's in the box?" Ron asked, peering over Hermione's shoulder.
"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.
Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E . W.
"Spew?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it.
"What's a spew?" Ron asked dumbly.
"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. "
"Never heard of it," said Ron blatantly.
"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it. "
"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"
"Well - when you three join- four," said Hermione.
"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.
"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status - but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto. "
"Er..." I paused, thinking, "that would be...soaofmccctls-"
Hermione brandished the sheaf of parchment at us.
"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now. "
"Hermione - open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"
"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented. "
"And how do we do all this?" Harry and I asked.
"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join - that buys a badge - and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron - I've got you a collecting tin upstairs - Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting- and Pheobe, you're advertiser, I've got leaflets for you to pass around upstairs. "
There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the three of us, and I sat, torn between amusement at the look on Ron's face, who looked temporarily dumbstruck, and between exasperation at myself for not agreeing without hesitation, considering this was similar to the work I'd been doing at my own school.
"Alright, I'm in," I said finally, "but Hermione, you physically cannot get me to go around passing out leaflets that say the word 'spew' in big red letters." Hermione huffed with a roll of her eyes but was grinning nonetheless.
"That makes one of you...Ron? Harry?" she said, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes. Harry sighed heavily and nodded. Ron grimaced.
"On one condition."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking as though she would deeply regret asking.
"I never have to say the word spew- or S.P.E.W, I don't care- nor do I have to make other people say it." Hermione thought for a second.
"Fine. You can say Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"The society of what?" said a surprised voice. I turned and saw James McCoy standing behind me, who waved a hand when he had caught the attention of Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well. "Hi? Wilson, can we talk?"
"Er- sure, McCoy," I raised an eyebrow, getting up and following him out to the corridor. "Um. Hi..?"
"Hi, so, can I rant for a sec? Thanks. I'm in love with my best friend but he's straight and I don't fucking know what to do and I can't tell any of my actual friends because like, fuck, they'll go and fucking tell him so now I'm stressed because he said he has a crush on this one girl and so I thought to myself, well, who's the least-straight person that I know and yippee-ki-yay it's you so will you help me?"
"Least straight person you know?" I repeated, amused.
"Am I wrong?" James replied, cocking an eyebrow. I scoffed.
"Of course not."
"I knew it! My instincts are always right!" James said triumphantly. "You don't know the actual fear I was going through, Pheobe, like what the fuck happens if she's straight?! I can't get help from a straight person in a moment of terror like this-!"
"Calm down, James, take a deep breath," I said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a bit. "It's okay. We'll get through this."
"Yes! See, this is the kind of support I need. Thanks loads, Ph-"
"Pheobe! D'you have a quill?!" asked Parvati hurriedly, running over and looking at me desperately.
"Nope, but I've a pen," I replied, swiftly pulling a pen out of my pocket and handing it to her. She beamed and ran off.
"Thank you!"
"Who just happens to have a pen with them at all times?" James asked, bemused.
"Me, of course," I scoffed.
"Hey! That's brilliant! I should start calling you pen!"
"Wh-"
"Now that we're best friends, I need a nickname for you," he said seriously. I rolled my eyes, grinning, because for some reason he was so friendly and vibrant that I felt like I could just have a friend to laugh with, and not to talk about Voldemort and insane one-eyed teachers with.
"Sure, best friend, but I also need a nickname for you," I frowned thoughtfully. "Jam..jelly...jamelly?"
"Keep working on it," James chuckled. "Okay! Now! Help me! Again, distressed boy over here!"
"Yes, yes," I said. "Come, distressed boy. You are in severe need of therapy..."
"That hit close to home," said James, holding a hand to his heart dramatically as we walked.
"..and a friend," I grinned. "Lucky for you, I can be-"
"A therapist?" he asked hopefully. I swatted him away.
"A friend. But if you'd prefer a therapist, you could totally go ask some of your other friends..."
"Nope! Go on, best friend."
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"Dumbledore wants you taught what the Imperius curse feels like," said Moody in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few days later, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare, as she had been the one to point out that it was illegal. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave.
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. I watched as, one by one, my classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
"Wilson, your turn."
I moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at me, and said, "Imperio!"
It was the most wonderful feeling. I felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in my head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but vague, untraceable happiness. I stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching me.
And then I heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of my empty brain: Spin around...spin around...
Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of my brain.
Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.
spin around....
No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly...no, I don't really want to....
SPIN! NOW!
The next thing I felt was considerable pain. I had simultaneously spun and tried to stop myself from spinning, resulting in me falling to the floor and, by the feeling in my legs, twisted my ankle.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, I felt the empty, echoing feeling in my head disappear. I remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in my ankle seemed to double.
"Look at that, you lot...Wilson fought! She fought it, and she damn near beat it! We'll try that..." his eyes flicked to my ankle as I stood up, using the nearby desk for support. He huffed. "Potter, you next. Wilson- Hospital Wing."
All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work we were required to do. Suddenly it had gone from barely any work at all, to spectacular amounts in the span of one week. 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 a 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 -"
"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.
"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"
Hermione, who turned rather pink, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.
Harry, me, and Ron were deeply amused when Professor Trelawney told us that we had received top marks for our homework in our next Divination class, considering the three of us had made up a load of depressing bull from 'burns,' to 'losing a fight,' to 'getting trampled by a rampaging herd of Hippogriffs.'
(that last one was Ron's idea.)
She read out large portions of our predictions, commending us for our unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for us - but we were less amused when she asked us to do the same thing for the month after next; the three of us were running out of ideas for catastrophes.
Meanwhile, Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had us writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century.
Professor Snape was forcing us to research antidotes- we took this one seriously, however, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of us before Christmas to see if our antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked us to read three extra books in preparation for our lesson on Summoning Charms.
Even Hagrid, the big friendly giant who liked weird-arse creatures, was adding to our workload.
The Blast-Ended Skrewts we had begun working with last class were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of our "project," suggested that we come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.
"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."
Hagrid's smile faded off his face.
"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book....I hear yeh made a good ferret the other day, Malfoy."
The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, me, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying.
When we arrived in the entrance hall, we found ourselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the four of us, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to us:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY-
"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.
"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him...."
"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
"Diggory," I explained.
"He's probably trying out," Harry nodded.
"That idiot? Triwizard champion?" said Ron as we pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."
She spoke as though this settled the matter.
"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.
Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle.
During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
I also noticed that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning.
Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces.
The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed extremely tense as well, almost as if they were bent twigs, ready to snap at any given moment.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
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.
"Harry," I commented, surveying it. Harry turned to me.
"What?"
"Harry," I repeated with a grin, pointing at the large H. He followed my gaze and, upon realizing what I was talking about, rolled his eyes.
"Or maybe, possibly, Hogwarts."
Harry, Ron, me, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices, causing our suspicions to arise, but most particularly the youngest Weasley son, who led the way over to the twins.
"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.
"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.
"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.
"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" I asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before...."
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and we looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
"What's a cockatrice?" I frowned.
"A two-legged dragon with the head of a chicken." Hermione said promptly, looking completely unfazed, and no matter how hard I tried, I could've sworn everyone had heard the strangled laugh that escaped my lips, as everyone except Hermione had hidden smiles on their faces.
"It's all in Hogwarts, A History," Hermione continued, unperturbed. "Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School." Hermione said impatiently.
"What are you on about?" said Ron, though I thought I knew what was coming.
"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
I turned back to my scrambled eggs, not very interested in the debate that would surely happen in the next few moments. Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. I was starting to get into the cause, and so was Harry, but Hermione's devotion was unparalleled.
I was honestly kind of proud to see that the girl had become so determined in her cause, but it was somewhat alarming and exasperating at how far she had taken it- not only had she forced us to wear badges and go around advertising them, but she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.
"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.
Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.
Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding us all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.
"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"
"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -"
"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. I looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring towards Harry. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she, Ron, and I watched Hedwig as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily with a reply from Sirius, as Harry had written about his scar hurting to his godfather earlier.
Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Ron, me, and Hermione.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself Don't forget what I said about your scar.
Sirius
"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.
"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding...I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"
Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes wordlessly.
"Thanks, Hedwig," he said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.
There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, me, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."
Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.
"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front...no pushing...."
They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. I was standing between Hermione and Lavender in the fourth row from the front, and saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.
"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it," said Hermione.
"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.
"A ship," I murmured, "and a flying carriage," Hermione rolled her eyes at me.
"That's only because you know what's- oh," she paused, "you do know," I grinned, returning my attention to Ron's weak attempts at guessing the mode of transportation of the students who would be arriving at Hogwarts any moment now.
"A Portkey?" Ron suggested, having clearly not listened to me. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"
"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.
We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual. I was starting to feel cold. I wished they'd hurry up....we might freeze to death before they showed up...
And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -
"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.
"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.
"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.
Dennis's guess was closer....As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, we saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring towards us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump back onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
I just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.
A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had ever seen in my life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.
I had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in my life, and that was Hagrid; I doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because I was (slightly) used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
I now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.
From what I could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.
"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.
"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
"Skrewts," Ron muttered to me, grinning.
"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong...."
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.
"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati.
"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry.
"That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?" I said thoughtfully.
"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron, sounding hopeful.
"Oh don't say that," said Hermione with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds...."
We stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.
For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -
"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.
I listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting towards us from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed....
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"
From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.
Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor....
What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...and then I saw the rigging....
"It's a mast!" Harry exclaimed.
"I vaguely remember hearing ship," Hermione muttered quietly, and I scoffed.
"Potato, potato."
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes.
Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; we could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, I noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle...but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, I saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle we saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and I noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good....Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
"Yes, of course, Professor..."
"Viktor?" Ron wrinkled his nose, scoffing. "Viktor sounds like a bloody teacher's pet." I grinned.
"You won't be saying that for long, Ron..."
.✫ * ﾟ ･ ﾟ ｡. ★. *｡ ･ ﾟ ✫ *.
"Oh, hang on," I said just as Hermione shut the door to our dormitory, Parvati and Lavender talking about the Triwizard Tournament excitedly, "ah, merde, j'ai oublié de prendre mon livre d'en bas." I muttered, barely even realizing I had switched to French in between.
[oh, shit, I forgot to get my book from downstairs]
"Je ne connais pas ce premier mot, c'était quoi?" Hermione asked curiously as she strode over to her bed and picked up the French dictionary I had gotten her.
She had asked me just days ago if I would teach her French, and I'd accepted gladly, but the girl had progressed at such high rates I was pretty sure that in a few weeks she'd probably know at least half of what I knew, which would be something to behold considering French was my first language.
When Hermione Granger set her mind to a task, she really followed through.
[I don't know that first word, what was it?]
"Shit," I shrugged, grinning. She rolled her eyes at me.
"Wow, Pheobe. Jurer en français au lieu de anglais."
[Wow, Pheobe. Swearing in french instead of english.]
I grinned and left the dormitory, heading down the stairs quietly and hearing the crackling of the golden fire. I strode over to one of the armchairs and found my book perched on the armrest, but the second I grabbed it I felt the world flip and twist strangely, and had to fight to keep my dinner down as I shut my eyes tightly and waited for it to pass.