Chapter 23: Huge Snakes and Pretty Boys and House-Elves (Oh My!)Summary:The Tournament is drawing ever closer, and of course our heroine has issues to slog through.
Notes:Take heed that this chapter deals with house-elves and the myriad issues surrounding them. Not in depth, I thought, but fair warning anyway.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextThe weekend they finally learned when the delegations from the other schools would be arriving, Hazel decided to sneak off and spend most of it in the Chamber of Secrets, where Regina was awake and eager to see someone. "Master, it has been so long," she hissed, slithering out as soon as she was called for. "I feared you had forgotten me!"
"I would never forget you, Regina," Hazel replied, reaching up to rub her nose. "I've just been busy, and whenever I thought to visit you, you were too deeply asleep for me to call you." She didn't want to force the big snake to be active when it was cold, after all.
"You smell more powerful, Master, and darker as well. Have you grown stronger?"
"I have." She revealed her Slytherin ring, and summoned the dagger. "Regina, do you recognize these objects?"
Regina smelled them and peered at them as best she could. "Ah, yes, these are the relics of my first master's oldest daughter, Selima. She was the greatest of all his progeny, easily as powerful as her father, and she always made sure I had plenty of food."
"Has the dagger been touched by your venom?"
"Once, many years ago. It would not hurt for it to taste my bile once more." So Hazel put it on the floor and stood back, while Regina drooled several drops of her intense venom onto the blade. It absorbed the substance just like the Sword of Gryffindor had, though the coloration didn't change. Which made sense, since it had been imbued before.
"Thank you, Regina." She picked the knife up again and dismissed it with a flick of her wrist.
The big snake rumbled in reply. "Have you tried throwing the dagger? Selima was renowned for her knife-throwing skills."
Knife throwing, eh? She brought the dagger back and held it in her hand, testing the balance. It felt okay, but she was hardly much of a knifer. She tried throwing it, and groaned as it tumbled end over end into the shadows. "Try throwing at a target next time, dork," she muttered, going to retrieve it.
Then she paused. If she could recall the dagger from the nether, why not from across the room? So she willed herself on the ring like she usually did, and sure enough, the weapon appeared in her grasp once more. "Cool!"
She tried that a few more times, throwing the thing as hard as she could and then recalling it. There was no difference in distance, it came back no matter how far or hard she threw. But she'd need targets to aim for if she was going to get any good at it.
"Thank you, Regina. I'll try to visit more often," she said as she bowed and turned to leave.
"I understand you are busy with school, Master, you need not go out of your way. As long as the little elf keeps sending apples and onions and boar, I want for nothing."
"Still, I'm your Master so I'm responsible for you. I need to visit more often." If only so she could hear about her ancestors more. Not to mention being responsible for her. She flew back up to Myrtle's bathroom, checked the Map and slipped out, covered by her Cloak.
Once back in the occupied parts of the castle, she ducked into another bathroom, stowed the Cloak and walked back out, joining the crowd of students trailing down. There was a crowd in the entrance hall, clustered around a large sign posted at the foot of the staircase. The noise and the press of people threatened to overwhelm her, until she felt a hand slide into her own and squeeze.
"It's for the Tournament," Luna said in her ear. "Come around the outside edge, it's easier than trying to force through the center." Luna had a calming effect on her as usual and she followed her through to the outside of the press of students, where they skirted the outside and arrived at the sign:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
The delegations from Beauxbatons and
Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock
on Saturday the 29th of October.
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.
"At least we won't miss classes," Hazel said to herself when she finally got to read it.
"I should go tell Cedric!" a Hufflepuff boy said excitedly. It took Hazel a moment to recognize him as Ernie Macmillan, a pureblood whose family tended to side with Dumbledore.
"Diggory's putting his name in?" Ron said, making a disparaging noise. "There's no way that pretty boy could ever be selected, let alone win!"
"He's not just some pretty boy, Ron, he's a prefect! Andhe was elected Head Boy!" Hermione countered. "What do you have against him anyway?"
Ron turned red and muttered something about "he beat us at Quidditch."
"So did I, you prat, are you gonna hate me too?" Hazel said, punching him on the shoulder. "Come on, it's time for lunch."
Predictably, talk of the Tournament was everywhere; it had even overshadowed the World Cup during practice, and of course the older students went extra hard during the dueling club on Sunday. "Look at Diggory!" Hazel called, pointing across the room to where Cedric was dueling three opponents at once. And winning, by the look of it!
"Those are the same spells Dumbledore showed us," Draco said. Indeed, as they looked on Cedric was evading and shielding himself, while replying with Transfiguration magic; the way he held his wand was a little strange, but there was no denying the impact of his spells, as his opponents' hair or eyebrows rapidly overran their faces, or their robes shifted to tangle them up. And while they were trying to get loose from those effects he'd hit them with Stunning or Disarming Charms, or even the odd Tickling Charm.
Hazel really had to get better at Transfiguration. Casting the spells took too long for her to rely on them in a duel, and she could tell they'd be incredibly useful. But she couldn't stand here admiring Cedric's abilities, not when she had her own duel to attend to!
The next week was full of tense anticipation, and it showed everywhere. Filch was kept busy with cleaning the castle from top to bottom, and overseeing detentions of students forced to help out, and when Hazel went out at night she found house elves picking up the slack. Suits of armor were oiled and polished, portraits were scrubbed so thoroughly the occupants had to flee their frames, muttering darkly and cradling their raw pink faces.
She found out where Filch was getting so many assistants from when she found Snape telling off a group of second-year Gryffindors for tracking mud into the castle, and giving them detention with Filch to clean up after themselves.
"Why does Hogwarts have a caretaker when there's house-elves around to clean up?" Hermione wondered out loud as they were headed to Care of Magical Creatures.
"House-elves can't really tell us off, can they?" Draco said. "I reckon Filch is around to yell at us for messing things up, and give detentions and such; he's on staff, and they aren't."
"That's a raw deal," she replied, sounding troubled. "I've been thinking about house-elves you know, ever since Winky, but I can't see what I can do about it."
"The elves at Hogwarts do alright, Hermione, you know that," Hazel said reassuringly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What could we do, anyway? We can't free them, remember what Mr Diggory said?"
"They can only be released when their master presents them an article of his or her clothes, specifically with intent to release them," Hermione recited glumly. "Yes, I remember. They still get a raw deal, though."
"Maybe Charlie or Hagrid would know of a way around it?" she suggested, shrugging.
If they did, Hazel didn't get to hear about it, as Hermione waited until after class to ask. Walking back to the castle, she was still turning the issue over in her head. "What could be done about house-elves, anyway?" she mused aloud.
"You'd have to start at the Ministry, is my guess," Draco said thoughtfully. "Outside pressure has its place, but unless someone inside is receptive, you won't get anywhere. The other issue is that house-elves like serving humans; most of them are terrified of the idea of freedom, and you'd be hard pressed to find one who'd be willing to stand up for themselves."
"Interesting." Well, she said that, but was it really? She supposed the typical disdain for house-elves other wizards felt had infected her somehow. Or maybe it was some holdover from her famously intolerant Muggle relatives? Great, another thought project: why is Hazel Potter such a bigot?
It was a question she'd have to think about later, since they had more classes. But she would think about it, she promised herself! Just as soon as she got through her classes, and dinner, she'd spend a little time in the library and read up on house-elves.
And when she found Hermione already perusing the books on house-elves in the library, she was hardly surprised. "I thought I'd find you here, Hermione," she said, joining her at the shelves.
"Oh. Hazel." Clearly, from her tone, Hermione had not expected her here. "I was just looking up house-elves, you know."
"Yeah, me too." She rolled her eyes. "Your talk with Charlie and Hagrid didn't go so well?"
"Not really, no. They just confirmed everything we already knew, that only a house-elf's master can release them, and there's a specific process to follow involving a piece of the master's clothing, and intent, and there's really no way to do it by accident."
"That would make sense, if a house-elf could just pick up any random piece of clothing and be set free, they couldn't very well do our laundry, could they?"
"I suppose." Hermione seemed frustrated, the frustration of a girl used to having her way and not being able to have it for once. Hazel could honestly relate. "They just… they get a raw deal, don't they?"
Hazel opened her mouth to agree, but closed it again after a moment. "The only house-elf I've met who I know has been mistreated was Kreacher, and that was by Voldemort, not his family. Regulus actually betrayed him over his treatment of Kreacher, believe it or not."
"Okay, but they're basically slaves, Hazel!" Hermione blurted out. "And, and nobody cares! Ron and Draco don't care, you don't care, the house-elves themselves don't seem to care!"
"I dunno about Ron or Draco, but you're only half right about me. I don't care because there's nothing we can do about it now, and I have better things to do with my time than worry about esoteric activist causes. And I'm here because I want to find out if I'm wrong, and you are too."
She could see her mouthing the word 'activism' to herself, and turned away to look at the books again. "Here, grab a few and let's see what they tell us."
Later on, when Madam Pince was starting to prowl and snarl at the students still in her library, Hazel rubbed her eyes and sighed. "I dunno, Hermione, it seems pretty solid. We'd have to be involved at the Ministry level to do any real change."
"They're slaves," Hermione growled, not looking at her. Or really at anything, apparently.
"So you've said." This was getting annoying. Hazel yawned and gathered her books up to put them away. "We've got plenty of homework to do, alright? Forget about house-elves for now and let's get out of here before Pince sees us."
"Fine." Together they put all the books back to their places, and were on the way out the door while Pince was still dealing with another pair of night-owl bookworms.
She was still thinking about it later that night, after she'd made a dent in her homework. Even while getting ready for bed, automatically doing her routine, she was turning it over in her mind, wondering why she was so apathetic about house-elves. Intellectually she knew it wasn't a very nice way to think; Hermione was absolutely right, house-elves did get a raw deal and she knew she should be concerned.
And too, why was she worrying about it now? She'd been in contact with lots of house-elves, had seen first hand how they could be mistreated by humans. Why hadn't she worried about it then? Maybe Hermione's sudden obsession had brought it into prominence?
But that was all dancing around the point, which was that she had funny ways of thinking about others. Hell, when she'd first met Kreacher she'd thought of him as an ituntil… well, until when? Until he spilled his heart out and proved he was worthy? Sirius was remarkably intolerant for such an otherwise easygoing fellow, she'd seen firsthand his disdain for Professor Snape, and for the Dark Arts, and for Muggles…
It was easy to blame it on Vernon and Petunia, she realized. The hard part was doing something about it, fixing this part of herself now that she was aware of it. She yawned again and finished her routine, then crawled into bed and arranged her mental defenses for the night. Self-improvement was easier after a good night's sleep, after all!
Notes:I've been thinking about starting a Discord server for this stuff. Would y'all be down?
Chapter 24: Visitors!Summary:Hogwarts plays at hosting. Who will win? Who will lose? Who will go home naked and hungover?
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextSaturday slouched along at last, and Hazel kept herself busy for most of it, eating a heavy breakfast and heading out to run herself ragged with Quidditch drills.
During lunch she saw Fred and George huddled together, which wasn't unusual, but this time it seemed purposeful, instead of their usual plotting and pranking. Deciding she was curious, she ambled over and sat down. "Alright, guys?"
"Not really," Fred replied gloomily. "You heard from Bagman lately?"
"Ludo? No, I haven't, what's going on?"
"He hasn't paid up our winnings yet," George confided in a very low voice. "Keeps dodging us, evading our letters. But he's coming up to judge the Tournament, so he can't evade us forever."
"Oh. Yeah, that's shitty of him." She had put down several times what they had, but she didn't think it was tactful to bring that up. Or that she had forgotten all about the bet since then, seeing as she wouldn't at all miss that money. "Have you thought about writing to Gringotts for the money? You've still got that betting slip, that should be proof enough of his debt to you."
"...uh, no, we hadn't thought of that, actually," Fred admitted after a long moment staring. "That's a bloody brilliant idea though."
"What's a bloody brilliant idea?" Ron asked, dropping onto the bench next to Fred.
"For you to bugger off and leave us alone, you nosy git," George grumbled, to which Ron flipped him the bird and reached for some bread and meat to make sandwiches.
"Who are the other judges, then?" Hazel asked, plucking an apple from a basket.
"The three Heads of the schools are always on the panel," Hermione chimed in. "I read once that all three of them were attacked by a rogue cockatrice during the Tournament of 1792. And if Mr Bagman is involved, I think we can assume Mr Crouch will be too, they both were heavily involved in organizing it after all."
Her voice had gone a bit grim at the mention of Mr Crouch, and Hazel couldn't blame her a bit. She just shrugged and left for her own table, admiring the decorations as she went; great House banners hung from the ceiling, with a larger one depicting the Hogwarts coat of arms behind the high table.
It was actually kind of strange, seeing the castle so polished and clean. Part of her would be glad when the Tournament was over.
After lunch she went up to the Room of Requirement and worked out, pushing herself as hard as she could. Partly to burn off the nervous energy she felt, partly to distract herself from her thought project, and partly to give the back of her mind time to simmer through it.
It didn't matter what she came up with, she wasn't gonna fix that part of herself any time soon. And really, she probably fit right in with her housemates in that regard. So basically it was going to be a long term thing, but that didn't mean she could take it easy.
As if she'd take it easy anyway! She was Hazel Goddamn Potter!
Around four she went back to the dorm to find the other girls fluttering around, cosmetic charms flying every which way along with robes and shirts and underthings. "Um."
"Potter! Finally, where have you been?" Pansy demanded, beckoning her forward. "The other schools are arriving tonight, we have to be ready!"
"Ready for what?" But she moved in anyway, and was immediately surrounded. "Hey, come on, I can dress myself up just fine!"
"No, you can't, now sit still," Daphne replied, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Ugh, your hair sucks, Hazel…"
Millicent, she noticed, was also seated awkwardly, while Tracey fussed over her. The implications of the tomboys being fussed over by the girly girls was not lost on her.
Finally she was allowed up, though she was closely supervised as she got dressed. "You guys are taking this way too seriously," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
She did her best to follow instructions though, and eventually Pansy declared they were passably prepared. "Now don't embarrass us, any of you! We're Slytherin, we need to act like it!"
Hazel caught Millicent's glance and rolled her eyes, and the other girl snorted in response. One last check of uniforms, then everyone grabbed cloaks and scarves and slipped out to the common room, where Snape and the prefects were inspecting everyone.
"Straighten your hair, Bletchley," Snape said sharply, and everyone instinctively patted their heads. Hazel was now glad for Pansy's attention, as Snape passed over her without a word. Eventually everyone was satisfactory, and he led the House out and up to the entrance hall, where the other Heads were putting their students into lines and straightening them out.
"Miss Patil, get that ridiculous thing out of your hair immediately," McGonagall was telling Parvati in a sharp voice; Parvati scowled, but pulled an ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. "Weasley, where's your hat?"
"Uh, sorry ma'am," he mumbled, pulling the hat out and planting it on his head. He saw Hazel looking and rolled his eyes.
Over in the Ravenclaw line, little Dennis Creevey was trying to find his brother. "Colin! Colin, where are you?!" he squeaked, though Hazel couldn't see him through the mass of larger students.
"Pipe down, Mr Creevey, your brother's just fine!" Flitwick called, doing his best to mind his own charges.
Eventually everyone was led outside, to stand before the castle and await their visitors. The sun had set over an hour ago, and a pale sliver of moon was rising over the Forest. It was chilly, and Hazel pulled her scarf and cloak closer about herself. "Any idea how they're getting here?" she asked of no one in particular.
"I know Durmstrang has a ceremonial ship," Draco replied, "bet you anything they'll arrive by the lake."
"They won't try to apparate, will they?" she heard Ron ask, and rolled her eyes, imagining the response-
"Ron, you idiot, you can't apparate into or out of Hogwarts! No one can!" Hermione hissed. There it was!
Everyone was looking back and forth, watching for the new arrivals, speculation rampant as to how they'd arrive and when. There was sure to be a dramatic entrance of some kind, wizards couldn't resist showing off to each other. Something in the sky caught her eye, right as Dumbledore pointed that way: "I do believe the Beauxbatons delegation approaches!" he called.
"Is it a dragon?!" some firstie shouted.
"No, it's a flying house!" Dennis Creevey yelled back.
Whatever it was, it was huge, larger than a hundred broomsticks, skimming low over the treetops. The lights from the castle caught it, revealing an enormous powder-blue carriage, drawn by a dozen winged horses the size of elephants. And such beautiful horses, too, though Hazel had no idea what that golden-white color was called.
The carriage and its horses came in hot, landing hard enough to shake the very earth beneath them; the students up front jumped back in alarm as the ensemble came to a noisy halt before them, the gigantic horses tossing their heads and rolling fiery red eyes. A door in the side banged open, and a small boy leaped down to unfold a set of golden steps.
The first person to step down was a very tall woman, olive-skinned and beak-nosed, with large black eyes that gleamed in the light of the castle. She wore black satin from neck to toe, and high-heeled boots the size of a child's sled on her feet. She was very beautiful, but her sheer size was equally intimidating.
Dumbledore started to clap, and abruptly the students joined in as they parted before her; the woman smiled regally as she approached and offered Dumbledore her hand. "Dumbly-dorr, I hope I find you well," she said in a deep voice, heavily accented.
As tall as he was, she was even taller, and he barely had to lean forward to mime a kiss on her rings. "Olympe," he replied graciously. "Welcome, once more, to Hogwarts!"
"My pupils!" she called, gesturing carelessly at the carriage; on cue, a dozen young men and women filed out, their fine silk robes the same color as their carriage. None of them wore cloaks, and a very few even bothered with scarves, and they shivered slightly in the night air, staring apprehensively at the dark mass of Hogwarts above them.
"It is my honor to introduce Madame Olympe Maxime of Beauxbatons Academy, and her chosen students," Dumbledore said for the benefit of the Hogwarts students, and everyone clapped again. "Hagrid will take your horses, of course," and he waved the big man forward. Hagrid didn't move right away; he was transfixed by the sight of Madame Maxime, possibly the only woman he'd ever seen who was as big as he. "Ah, Hagrid will take your horses!" the Headmaster repeated more loudly.
"Ah, righ'!" Hagrid shook his head and moved forward. "Beau'iful critters, ain't they?"
"They will require forceful handling, Sir Hagrid, and they only take single-malt whiskey," Madame Maxime said, watching the gamekeeper carefully.
"Don'cha worry none, Madame, I got 'em," Hagrid said cheerfully, untying their traces one by one and taking their halters in hand. "C'mon, you lot, follow ol' Hagrid!"
"I take it Karkaroff has not arrived yet?" Maxime said, turning back to Dumbledore.
"Indeed he hasn't. Would you care to wait out here and greet him, or head inside to warm up a trifle?"
"We will warm up, I think," she replied imperiously. "Come along, my pupils." She waved again and started up toward the castle, and her blue-clad students trailed along in her wake.
"Close ranks, then," McGonagall called, and the students came together again. People were fidgeting and shivering, muttering to their neighbors; Hazel kept her attention on the lake, wondering how exactly anyone would get a whole ship all the way here.
Abruptly she heard a noise. "Can you hear that?" she called, pointing down at the lake, where a rumbling and sucking noise like a vacuum on a riverbed could be heard. The surface of the water turned choppy, waves crashing over the banks; something huge and green was rising up from the depths… no, it was being sucked up! There was a whirlpool out there!
"It's a ship!" some Hufflepuff called, as a mast and rigging came into view out there. Shortly the whole ship was afloat, looking oddly skeletal in the thin moonlight, dim green light glimmering out of the windows. No, they were portholes, she told herself, unsure where she'd heard the term from.
The ship sluiced through the water and dropped anchor at the boathouse, and the crew began to disembark. Hazel wondered why they hadn't landed closer, or why their own crowd hadn't gone down there; it was rather far to walk, up all those stairs and things.
But she needn't have worried, for as she looked on, the lot of them rose up into the air, and as they came closer she saw at least fifteen students in heavy furred cloaks, worn over militant uniforms; they all flew on broomsticks, and were supporting a wooden gondola in which two more people stood, one of them a tall, older man in white robes and silver furs.
Seconds later the fliers landed, and the older man and his companion stepped onto the lawn. "Albus! My old friend!" he called, stepping forward with his arms spread.
"Igor," the Headmaster replied happily, stepping up himself to greet the man in a friendly embrace. Hazel saw they were equally as tall and thin as each other, and wondered if Headmasters were always like that. "You had a pleasant journey, I hope?"
"We certainly did!" The two men backed off, and Igor turned to survey the castle and the assembled students. He had graying hair cut short, and a goatee that didn't quite hide his weak chin; he smiled at everyone, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which were shrewd and calculating.
"May I introduce Professor Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute?" Dumbledore told them, and there was a murmur of acknowledgement.
"Lovely to be back, simply lovely." Karkaroff beckoned his students forward. "Viktor, step forward, step forward, we should get you inside."
One of the young men in back of the crowd muttered something harsh, but stepped to the fore anyway; a gasp ran through the Hogwarts crowd as his heavy brows and curved nose were revealed. "Krum! It's Viktor Krum!" Ron was saying, no doubt jabbing everyone in reach with his elbows.
"I didn't know he was still a student," Hazel murmured. He looked ill at ease at the center of attention, duck-footed and awkward, hardly the image of an international Quidditch star; even as everyone looked on, he paused and stifled a sneeze into the hood of his cloak. "Bad time to catch a cold, eh?"
"Who cares? It's Viktor bloody Krum!" Draco whispered excitedly. Several fights had broken out over who had quills or pens or anything; a gaggle of sixth-year girls were even fighting over a tube of lipstick.
"He's not gonna sign your tits, you know," she said derisively as they followed the Durmstrang lot inside; the girls gave her scandalized looks, but subsided in their squabbling.
Notes:I have a lot of chapters pre-written, and I'm almost to the third Task. Hopefully I can keep the momentum going!
Chapter 25: Enter the Eponymous(?)Summary:At last, the Goblet of Fire! Now we know what the book is named for! ...wait a second.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextBack in the Great Hall, she saw that the Beauxbatons students had decided to seat themselves at the Ravenclaw table, probably because of the blue coloration. They didn't seem too happy to be here, if the glum expressions on their faces were any indication; three of them still had scarves wrapped about their heads.
"How can they still be cold?" Hazel scoffed, shaking her head. "They should have worn cloaks!"
"I think Beauxbatons is in the south of France," Hermione said before they separated. "It would explain how light their robes are." She waved and set off with the other Gryffindors, and Hazel waved back before turning to her own table.
She didn't know what was worse, having friends in other Houses, or making everyone sit apart.
As she sat down, she saw the Durmstrang lot were still hovering by the door, trying to decide where to sit down. "Don't be a prat," she hissed, jabbing Draco in the side.
"I didn't do anything!" he hissed back, though he was looking eagerly at Krum, obviously hoping they would come over this way.
The other tables weren't so shy, waving and hissing and trying to get his attention; the Gryffindors were especially shameless, Fred and George actually standing up and pushing the first- and second-year students out of the way to make room.
She could only imagine their disappointment, then, when Karkaroff glared coolly at the other tables and gestured for his students to sit with the Slytherins. "See?" she said smugly, smirking as they sat down near the fourth-years.
Naturally Draco wasted no time introducing himself. "Krum, is it? Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said smoothly, offering his hand to the famous Quidditch star.
"Nice to meet you," Krum replied awkwardly, giving his hand a very brief clasp. He glanced around, stopping when his eyes settled on Hazel. "Forgive me, are you Hazel Potter?"
Several other Durmstrang students looked up at those words, zeroing in on her. "Uh, yeah? Who else would I be?" she said, a bit nonplussed. The scar took up most of the left side of her face by then, but she flipped her hair aside anyway.
"Okay, well, hello," Krum replied, turning away to examine the solid gold tableware. She cocked an eyebrow at Draco; Krum really was awkward when he wasn't on a broom. Looking around again, she saw the Gryffindors looking quite put out indeed, and waved cheekily at Ron; he scowled and started to raise his hand, but Hermione slapped it down again.
Eventually everyone was settled in, and the professors sat down too. Hazel noticed extra seats at the high table, and wondered if old Filch had brought them in. Dumbledore entered the Hall at that point, followed by Karkaroff and Madame Maxime; the Beauxbatons students stood up at her appearance, and despite the scattered laughter did not sit down again until their headmistress sat down herself, at Dumbledore's left side.
Dumbledore raised his hands, and silence fell over the Hall. "To our esteemed guests, I take great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts," he began, a twinkle in his eyes. "I trust you will be comfortable during your stay, and that you will be fairly entertained by our school and the events we have planned."
One of the Beauxbatons girls, still in her muffler, laughed derisively. "Sod off then, prat," Pansy growled, glaring at her.
"For now I invite you all to eat and drink to your heart's content, and at the end of the feast the Tournament will officially begin!" At those words the feast appeared, and Hazel noticed a large amount of foreign dishes among the more traditional faire.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing at a large pot filled with a bright red soup of some kind.
"шкембе чорба," one of the Durmstrang girls explained, helping herself to some. "Er, what is word…"
"Dragon's breath," Krum said sullenly. "Is very spicy."
Hazel liked spicy, so she stuck her spoon over and had a taste. It stung her mouth and made her eyes water; she gulped down a healthy mouthful of milk, to the amusement of their guests, and they laughed again when she ladled herself a proper bowlful of the stuff.
"Pansy, try some of this, it's amazing," she said, pushing the pot toward the girl.
"No thanks, I'm not a masochist like you are," Pansy replied, rolling her eyes. She had a plate full of funny-looking meatballs, so Hazel just shrugged; at least she was eating.
"Not everyone can handle dragon's breath," Krum said, sounding reluctantly impressed.
"What can I say? I'm a masochist," Hazel said glibly, taking some fried pork for herself. There was a funny type of bread that had egg and cheese baked into the top, which she folded over onto a few slices of cured sausage and dipped into the hot red soup; she did like her sandwiches, after all.
Across from her, Tracey's eyes suddenly went wide and she seemed to lose her breath. "V-Veela!" she muttered, staring.
"Where?" Hazel said, turning to see. One of the Beauxbatons girls had finally taken her muffler off, and had approached the Gryffindor table, asking about one of their dishes. She couldn't hear over the rest of the Hall, but she didn't need to; that long, silvery-blonde hair was enough to take her breath away. The girl turned, revealing large blue eyes and a flawlessly pale face, and Hazel was struck by the thought that Hogwarts robes were entirely too baggy and cumbersome and that maybe dealing with a bit of a chill would be worth wearing those blue silk things.
"Stop staring!" Pansy hissed, smacking Hazel across the back of her head. "And close your mouth before you start drooling, you're disgraceful!"
"Sorry, sorry," Hazel muttered, turning back to her meal. "I didn't know Beauxbatons admitted veela, did you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, she can't be a veela," Pansy growled. "Or everyone would be staring, wouldn't they?" A fair number of people were staring though, Hazel thought, focusing on Occlumency before turning to look again.
Dessert came, and she noticed the foreign foods were curiously light, after the heavy main dishes. Though that probably made sense if they were from a northerly area, since they wouldn't want to be too cold.
"Look who showed up," Draco said, nudging her and pointing to the high table. She looked up, saw Bagman and Crouch seated at the extra chairs; they must have come in while she was distracted by the maybe-veela, she reckoned.
When dessert was done and everyone had eaten, the tableware vanished and Dumbledore rose to his feet, a tense silence overtaking the hall. "The moment is nearly upon us," he announced gravely; Hazel felt a thrill shoot up her spine, and couldn't help but shiver slightly from anticipation. "The Triwizard Tournament will begin shortly. First, however, let me make some introductions.
"First, Mr Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of Britain's Department of International Magical Cooperation." Mr Crouch nodded solemnly, and there was a smattering of polite applause; Hazel thought he looked a little weird in his formal black robes, a contrast to the severe suit she'd last seen him in. "Second, Mr Ludovic Bagman, Head of our Department of Magical Games and Sports." The applause was much more lively for him, and he waved happily.
"You can tell who's popular tonight, eh?" Draco remarked, and Hazel just nodded. It was pretty obvious to her, Ludo was much more likable, and he smiled too.
"Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the judges' panel, as the champions perform against the arranged tasks," Dumbledore went on. At the word 'champions' a silent thrill went through the Hall, anticipation so thick it could be cut. The Headmaster smiled slightly. "Minerva? The casket, if you please."
McGonagall waved her wand, and a side door swung open, allowing a large, gem-encrusted wooden casket to float through the air. It came to a halt before Dumbledore and lowered itself to the table before him. "The instructions for each task have been reviewed and approved by the five judges, and all arrangements for safety and security have been made. The champions will face three tasks throughout the school year, each of which will test them in various ways, magical prowess being the least of them; more important will be nerve, deductive reasoning, and of course, their ability to cope with extreme danger."
The silence that filled the hall was now nearly deafening, and all eyes were on the Headmaster. Hazel wondered dimly if everyone had actually stopped breathing.
"Three tasks, three schools, three champions. Each will be marked on their performance at each task, and in the end, the winner will be awarded the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial judge: the Goblet of Fire!"
At last, he opened the ornate casket, tapping the lid three times with his wand. It creaked loudly as it swung up, and he reached in to pull out… a roughly hewn wooden cup? It was clearly very old, though, and very large, and filled to the brim with blue-white sparks and flames. He shut the casket again and placed the Goblet atop it, where it flickered and cast eerie shadows.
"Aspiring contestants are invited to clearly write their name and school on a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet," he went on. "You have forty-eight hours to submit yourself for consideration, and on Halloween two nights from now, the Goblet will make its decision regarding who is the most worthy to compete on behalf of their school."
He paused to look around, to make sure everyone was listening carefully. "The Goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, so that everyone who wishes to can access it. In keeping with the restrictions we have agreed to place on the Tournament this year, the five judges will oversee the creation of an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire. No one under seventeen will be able to reach the Goblet.
"It should go without saying that you should only enter the Tournament if you are absolutely certain you wish to compete. Once a champion is chosen, they must see the Tournament through to the end; merely placing your name in the Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract that cannot be broken without dire and disastrous consequences. You must be wholeheartedly prepared to compete if you put your name forward. For now, however, it is well past bedtime for most of us. Good night to you all."
"Age Line, huh," Draco said, rising to his feet. "If it's all five of them it'll be infallible, looks like we don't have a chance if we're underage."
"Yeah, that sucks." She looked across the room, saw Fred and George with their heads together. Those two were gonna cause trouble, she just knew it. "All the same, we probably shouldn't go out alone until this is over with, right?" This last was spoken somewhat louder, so that all the fourth-years could hear, and they nodded in agreement.
Professor Karkaroff had left the high table and was approaching his students. "Alright, everyone, back to the ship," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Viktor, did you get enough to eat? Are you feeling well, should I send for some spiced wine?"
"I am fine, Professor." Clearly, Krum wanted nothing more than to leave and return to their ship, as evidenced by the hasty way he pulled his furs back on.
"What about us, do we get wine?" another student asked.
The warmly paternal facade fell away in an instant. "Disgusting boy, you dare come begging when you've spilled food down your robes again?" the professor snarled.
"Um, excuse us," Hazel said, trying to get around Karkaroff.
"Huh?" He looked up, seeing Hazel and her friends waiting, and looked away again. "Just a second, just a se- Wait." His cold eyes shifted back, fixed on her forehead. "You?"
Not this again. "Yes, it's me," she snapped, flipping her hair aside. "Hazel Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived! Can we go to bed now?"
"Clear out, Karkaroff," someone growled, and Karkaroff whirled again as Mad-Eye Moody came stumping up to them. "You're blocking the way."
"You!" the man repeated, going rather pale, an expression of fear and rage clouding his features.
"I said clear out!" Moody growled again, thumping the floor with his staff, glaring back with an expression of intense loathing on his ruined face. "Unless you got something to say to Potter?"
"C-Come, all of you." Karkaroff turned and left the hall, his students trailing along, though a few lingered to stare at Hazel some more before leaving.
"That's our cue," Hazel muttered, though she gave them a moment before leaving the Great Hall, the other snakes in her wake.
Notes:The joke at the top was too good not to make, even if it doesn't quite work here.
Chapter 26: Caterwauling CharmSummary:More build up to the big night, and one day closer to finding out who goes home naked and hungover.
Notes:Over the weekend I finished the story, all 69(!) effing chapters of it. In honor of this I will be updating twice a week from now until they're all out there!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextTo everyone's surprise, Professor Snape was waiting for them again in the common room. Before tonight, the last time she could recall him being in here was in her second year, and that hadn't been pleasant. "I wish for all of you to line up," he said in a low voice, once every Slytherin was present. "Prefects, a headcount, please. There will be no need to speak."
That only took a minute or so, a minute of standing and fidgeting and making confused eyes at her friends. When the headcount was done, Snape swept to the front again. "Gryffindor may be plotting to circumvent the Age Line, Slytherin House will not. I will place a Caterwauling Charm on the door, such that any underage student who tries to leave before breakfast tomorrow will set it off. I do not wish to be awoken in the middle of the night, and nor will anyone else."
"Older students won't trip the charm, though?" an older girl asked.
"No, Miss Brightley. Older students are free to submit themselves to the Goblet of Fire, if they so choose. I would caution anyone considering it to heed the Headmaster's warnings, for once." A low murmur of amusement swept the room; they all knew what he meant by that. "Any other questions?"
There were not, and he nodded sharply. "Off to bed with all of you, then."
"What shall we do about Samhain?" Draco asked. "Since it's on a Monday and all, and there's all that Tournament stuff."
It took Hazel a moment to figure out he was asking her."What you asking me for?" she replied in a confused voice. "No, really, why are you asking me?"
"Why wouldn't I ask you?" he countered, looking rather put off that she had to ask. "Isn't it obvious? You're the Heir of Slytherin, you've got the dagger, you led the ceremonies last year."
"Ugh." She rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow then, we'll do it tomorrow. I dunno how to organize any of it though, so that's on you."
"Understood." He snapped off a salute and went for the boys' dorms, and she flipped him off when his back was turned.
"That Caterwauling Charm is unnecessary," Pansy sniffed as soon as the girls reached their dorms. "No one in here would dare try and cross that Age Line, we're not that stupid."
"Not at night, anyway. But it'd be harder to make a try for it when there's lots of people around, too," Daphne said.
"It's not for us anyway, it's for the boys," Hazel said dismissively, and the others giggled, even Pansy.
After her routine, Hazel got the Marauders' Map out and spied on the entrance hall. The first thing she noticed was Mr Crouch hovering in the area, which seemed a little strange; wouldn't he be in the guests' quarters at this hour? Maybe he was a stickler for security, which made sense from what little she knew about him.
One or two older students she didn't recognize approached the Cup, probably to put their names in. Right before she decided to turn it off and get to sleep she saw a name creeping down from the Ravenclaw Tower; she looked closer and saw- Dennis Creevey? "He's not wasting any time at all," she murmured, watching the little dot scurry up to the cup.
Abruptly the Creevey dot flew backward several feet, and the Crouch dot approached. She didn't envy that particular dressing down, and with a giggle she put the map away and turned over, pulling her Occlumency down tight before nodding off.
In the morning she got dressed and headed out, experiencing a slight moment of disorientation when she didn't see Blaise in his usual spot. Had she finally woken up before him? She shook her head and kept going, stopping at the entrance hall; there he was, he'd just come up to watch the Goblet, apparently. "Blaise, Draco," she said, coming up behind them.
"Hazel," Draco replied, and Blaise nodded. "Alright?"
"Mm." She looked across the hall, seeing the Goblet waiting atop the three-legged stool they usually put the Sorting Hat on. A multicolored circle surrounded it, to a distance of ten feet in every direction; she couldn't tell if the circle or the Goblet was making her skin tingle. "Anyone put their names in yet?"
"The Durmstrang lot did," Blaise explained. "I heard one of the new Ravenclaws tried last night and got in trouble for it."
"Any idea who?" she asked, and he just shrugged. "Wanna bet it was Creevey?"
"Sure."
A commotion from the stairs drew their attention, and they turned to see Fred and George Weasley, and their friend Lee Jordan, looking incredibly pleased about themselves. "It worked!" Fred cackled, rubbing his hands. "The Aging Potion worked, we're seventeen now!"
"You don't look any different," Hazel replied, staring at them.
"'Course not, we only needed to be a few months older," George replied. "Here, we made extra for anyone who wants it!" and he held up a bottle of blue potion.
"I'm not entering, but I'll try some of that," and she took the bottle from him. "How does it work?"
"One drop for every month you want to age up," Lee said distractedly. She wanted to ask how much was a drop, but she could tell that wouldn't get anywhere, they weren't paying any attention at all.
And so, with everyone watching, Fred and George approached the Age Line, hovering right at the edge for a few moments. Hazel watched their faces, saw glee and anxiety and can't back down now everyone's watchingplay across their features. Then Fred pulled out a slip of parchment with his name and school and took that first step over the line.
At first nothing happened, and he took another step as George crowed and bounded over the Line; then there was a loud sizzling sound and both of them were thrown backward, landing ten feet away and skidding to a stop. As if to rub salt in the wound, both boys grew long white hair and beards with matching pop sounds.
The hall rang with laughter, and Fred and George joined in once they got a look at each other.
"We did try to warn you, after all," a deeply amused voice said, followed by Dumbledore stepping out of the Great Hall, eyes a-twinkle as he looked them over. "I daresay Madam Pomfrey can fix you right up, she's already attended to Mr Creevey and Miss Fawcett."
"Sure glad I didn't go!" Lee chortled, following his friends out of the hall toward the Hospital Wing.
A cheer came up from the Slytherins behind her, and she turned to see Cassius Warrington approaching. She stood aside and watched him step over the line and drop his parchment in; the fire in the Goblet turned red and emitted sparks as it accepted him. Hazel and the others clapped and cheered again, and then they all went to breakfast.
Flitwick and Charlie were preparing the Hall for the feast tomorrow, waving their wands and positioning huge pumpkins, and there was more foreign food in with the usual fare. "Quidditch practice?" Draco asked as they sat down. "No way the club is gonna meet up, with all this going on."
"No, I need to visit Hagrid," she replied, dowsing her eggs in hot sauce. "Then we've got Samhain things in the afternoon. You did let everyone know, right?"
"Yes, boss," he replied, rolling his eyes.
"Good." She ate her fill, then stood up to head outside, but she stopped at the sight of Madame Maxime and her students filing into the entrance hall. The Madame stood aside, and one by one the French students approached the Goblet of Fire to submit their names; like before, the fire turned red and shot sparks with each new name.
"Look, it's her," Ron said from behind, pointing over Hazel's shoulder as the eerie blonde girl stepped up. "I'm telling you, Hermione, she's not normal! You saw what happened last night!"
"Don't be stupid, Ron," Hermione snapped, pushing his hand down again. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to point?"
"You sound like Pansy," Hazel told her in a low voice, to which she just rolled her eyes. "Come on, Draco and I are gonna go see Hagrid, you wanna come with?"
"Oh, alright." There was more noise as they went through the entrance hall, as first Angelina and then Cedric put their names in. Ron and Draco said disparaging things about Cedric, calling him a pretty-boy among other things, but Hazel didn't let that slow them down.
They found Hagrid down by the Beauxbatons carriage, tending to the huge golden horses. "Alright, Hagrid?" she called as they approached.
"Oi, yeh lot." He waved. "Don' get too close now, them 'orses isn't too keen on strangers!" He finished what he was doing and approached them. "Been a bit, eh?"
Hazel was at a loss for words when she saw how he was dressed, in a vast hairy brown suit with checked yellow-orange tie. Even worse, he had tried to tame his hair, and done a rather poor job of it. "Hagrid, is that… axle grease? In your hair?"
"Sure is," he said proudly. "Come ter watch th' Skrewts, have yeh?"
Oh, right, that was a thing they had to do. They followed him around the paddock and carriage to the pumpkin patch, where a large area had been cleared and fenced off; more reinforced crates were in the fence, each rattling and smoking. "Turns out Skrewts eat each other," Hagrid remarked sadly. "Abou' three feet long by now, but yeh seen all 'at."
"How awful," Hermione said, and Hazel was sure her tone went over Hagrid's head. In fact, almost everything was going over his head, since he had fallen silent and was staring at the Beauxbatons carriage. Turning to look, Hazel saw Madame Maxime leading her students back into it, and hid a smile.
They went to his cabin and he made tea, and set out some of his infamous rock cakes. Hazel and her friends had learned by now to soak them before eating, and when he set out the rough wooden mugs they did just that. "Hagrid, I've been wondering, did you and Charlie create the skrewts for the Tournament?"
"Er, maybe," he said shiftily. "What makes yeh think 'at?"
"We've never seen anything like them," Hermione said. "They look like someone put bits of a manticore onto fire crabs, honestly."
"You and Professor Weasley only started breeding them over the summer, too?" Draco asked.
"Don't yeh worry none, we ain't violated th' Ban on Experimental Breedin'," Hagrid said hastily. "Had th' Ministry sign off an' everythin'. 'Sides, they ain't nothin' compared teh-"
"Yes? Compared to what?" Ron urged, when he broke off. "Tell us, Hagrid!"
"Nah, can't, but it'll be spectacular, trus' me," he replied, grinning broadly. "Them Champions'll have their work cut out fer 'em!"
Hagrid put out a casserole eventually, but Hazel and Draco had to make their excuses and leave. "House meeting," he said glibly, shrugging their curious looks off. "Can't miss it!"
It was a long walk back to the castle, made worse by the heavy clouds gathering overhead and threatening rain. They passed through the entrance hall and down to the dungeons, where the upper-year Slytherins were gathering.
"Everyone's here?" she called, and there was a general murmur. "Alright, well, you know what's going on." She went to her dorm for a picture of her parents, and came back to sit down, thinking about nothing in particular, enjoying the peaceful nature of the ceremony.
In time the prefects put the tables together, and food appeared on cue, allowing everyone to eat their fill. Afterward they all gathered around the fire, and Hazel said the words of the chant, feeling the lilting syllables roll off her tongue; and when the time was right she conjured and stunned a rat, and killed it through the back of its head with her knife before throwing it on the fire.
"Another year down," she said afterward, and everyone wandered off to put their mementos away again. She did the same with her photograph, and went back upstairs, planning to visit the Room of Requirement for the rest of the night.
At least, she had planned on it. "Going somewhere, Potter?" came a growling voice, and she rolled her eyes.
"Not that it's any of your business, Professor Moody," she replied, turning as the grizzled older man stumped into view. "I'm just exploring, that's all."
"Yeah right. Probably gonna disappear to torture more rats and spiders," he replied. "Get back downstairs with the rest of the snakes, and don't let me catch you up here again!"
"What on earth is going on here?" called another voice, followed by Professor McGonagall. "What has Miss Potter done, Alastor?"
"Nothing, yet. Caught her wandering around by herself way up here."
"If you have a specific grievance against her I suggest you take it up with Professor Snape," she countered severely, and Hazel got the impression she didn't much like her fellow teacher. "In the meantime it is not yet curfew, so she has every right to explore the castle. Off with you, Potter."
"Thanks, Professor," she murmured, turning to be on her way, leaving Moody seething behind her. Christ, would she have to take her Cloak with her even during the day? Paranoia set in and she avoided the Room, not wanting Moody to know that she knew about it.
"Hazel, is everything alright?" Luna's voice called, and then Luna herself appeared to take her hand. "What's going on?"
"Luna." She squeezed tightly. "I was just exploring the castle again when Professor Moody accosted me over being upstairs. Barmy old git, he is."
"I don't like him either, he spends too much time acting and lying," Luna replied seriously. "Come find me next time, he can't get mad at you if you're not alone, right?"
"Right." She smiled at her girlfriend and hugged her tight. "Have you found anything cool lately?"
"Yes!" was the exuberant reply, and she settled in to listen to her witter on about the new things she'd found, or that her father had written about.
After dinner, which was much more raucous and noisome with all their guests, she made her way downstairs and spent the rest of the evening quietly, catching up on homework and chilling out with her friends. Tomorrow the champions would be selected, and Hazel looked forward to cheering on whoever was chosen, safely from the stands.
Notes:See you on Friday~
Chapter 27: Champions, ChosenSummary:Why is it always Halloween?
Chapter TextThe whole school was on edge all the next day. Flitwick must have realized he had no chance, and simply called it a free day for them, letting people practice whatever charms or spells they cared to while he stood watch from his pile of books. Charlie seemed to feel the same, and though he insisted they take notes on the skrewts, he had given up on feeding the things. Or at least, on making the students feed them.
Divination was somewhat awkward, since Trelawney was quite fearful about something indistinct. "Professor, what's the matter?" Lavender Brown asked, putting her hand up.
"My dear, I cannot say," she replied in a low voice. "If I speak, I may twist events out of order! All of you, all of you please watch yourselves today! The omens, oh, the omens…"
Recalling her chat with Trelawney earlier in the year, about dark omens and vague foretellings, Hazel felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
Nobody had much stomach for lunch, and all anyone could talk about was the Tournament, and who was likely to be chosen. The Durmstrang lot were pretty well united behind Krum being their Champion, a fact Krum himself wasn't too enthusiastic about; Hazel got the distinct impression Krum wanted nothing more than to go home and hide, and as much as Karkaroff doted on him, he'd probably get to go home if he wasn't chosen.
She wasn't so sure about the Beauxbatons lot, since they sat at a different table. But she was sure they'd have a favorite.
As for her table, the Slytherins all figured Cassius had the best shot, and she knew the Gryffindors were united behind Angelina. Obviously the Hufflepuffs all favored their golden boy Cedric, and as for the Ravenclaws… Roger Davies had entered, hadn't he? What was it with Quidditch players all entering? Maybe they were sore about the Cup being canceled and wanted something to compete in.
Professor Vector didn't let the excitement interrupt her class one bit, and she was quite clear about it. "Tournament or not, you will pay attention, this is an important lesson," she said sharply, and it was, on the power of the number three.
Sprout lectured them on Shrivelfigs, though with everyone distracted she kept the practical part for later in the week. And Professor Babbling kept walking them through carving runes, though the anticipation of the evening's events left everyone on edge. Finally the bell rang, and the class dashed for the door, leaving their professor to laugh and shake her head.
"Hazel!" someone called, and she turned to see the girls from her dorm, beckoning her over. "We don't have time to do it properly, so this'll have to do." Wands were waved and spells were muttered, and she felt her appearance shifting, cleaning up; she caught Millicent's gaze and rolled her eyes.
In the entrance hall, their foreign guests had arrived all at once, the Beauxbatons lot looking a bit put out. It was obvious why: Hagrid was wearing his awful brown suit again and walking arm in arm with Madame Maxime, oblivious to everything else. "I'd hate to see the kids they'd have," Pansy sniffed, and Hazel giggled.
The Great Hall was still decked out in Halloween finery, which somewhat dampened Hazel's mood. But she ignored that and crossed to her place at the table, looking around as she went; Fred and George had gotten shaved once more, and were their usual cheery selves. Dennis had too, and was seated next to Luna jabbering away. Up at the far end, the Goblet of Fire had been placed before the high table once more, and was seething away.
"I can't wait to see who's gonna get picked," she said as she sat down. "I really hope Cassius gets it!"
"The Goblet of Fire should almost be finished deciding," Dumbledore announced. "Until then, tuck in!"
A Halloween feast appeared before them, though since they'd had a feast a few days ago Hazel wasn't so keen on it. That didn't stop her from eating herself silly, of course, and she saw the others were too, eating quickly and without the usual banter and chatter. They wanted it over as badly as she did, she realized.
Finally, finally, the plates were cleared, and the noise level rose sharply only to die off again as Dumbledore stood up. The other four judges looked tense and expectant, except for Bagman, who was chuckling and winking at everyone in sight. "In another minute, the Goblet will at last make its decisions," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand and sweeping it through the air, so that all the candles winked out except the ones in the pumpkins. The resulting semi-darkness left the Goblet as the brightest thing in the entire Hall, and all eyes were drawn to it.
"As each Champion is selected, please come up to the table here and through that door," and he pointed at a side door off the Hall. "You will receive your initial instructions once all three Champions have been called."
He remained standing, the eerie shadows giving him an ominous air. The flickering light of the Goblet was slowly flickering faster, but that didn't change the ambience of the room; Mr Crouch, especially, looked nearly skeletal in the gloom.
Finally the flames turned red and sparks erupted, carrying a piece of charred parchment high into the air. Dumbledore snagged it as it drifted back down, and Hazel saw his glasses glowing as he read the words. "The Champion of Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!" he announced.
The Hall went crazy, especially the girls; Krum, looking faintly surprised, got to his feet amidst the cheers of his fellows, and slouched up to the front of the Hall, where he shook hands with Dumbledore and ducked down to the side chamber.
Again the Goblet flared red, and a second piece of parchment shot upward, to be caught by Dumbledore. "The Champion of Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
At the Ravenclaw table, the veela-like girl stood up and swept her long hair aside, elegantly sweeping up to the front. It was too dark to appreciate the way that tight silk outfit hugged her body, which was probably for the best; there were enough wolf whistles and jeering, Hazel didn't need to make a fool of herself too.
"Oh look, they're so disappointed," Pansy sneered, nodding at the remainder of the Beauxbatons students. Some of them were crying, even.
Fleur shook hands with Dumbledore and disappeared into the side chamber, and the Hall held its breath for the final Champion. It seemed to stretch on, and on… but then a third sheet of flame and a final parchment erupted outward, and everyone leaned forward…
"The Hogwarts Champion is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table cheered so loudly the roof shook, the underappreciated badgers finally getting some recognition as Cedric, unable to repress a wide smile, stood up and crossed the Hall, shaking hands with the Headmaster and heading for the door. Below the screaming and stamping were shouts of dismay, and Hazel shook her head when she realized most of those were from the Gryffindor table. Sore losers, anyway.
With the excitement over, Hazel felt sleepy, the feast settling heavily in her guts, and she thought fondly of bed. But it wasn't quite time to go yet. "Very well then!" Dumbledore called, once the Hufflepuff table calmed down at last. "You have your Champions! I trust you will all support them to the best of your ability, even the remainder of our guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons! By cheering your Champion on you will-"
But what exactly that would accomplish went unsaid, as the Goblet flared red a fourth time, emitting yet another piece of parchment. The sight of that fourth parchment made Hazel very afraid, and the memory of Trelawney's warnings echoed in her head. "No, no, fuck no…"
Dumbledore snagged the parchment automatically, and stood silently for several moments, staring at the name. Please, not me, not me, I'll do anything, not me! she prayed, staring blankly up at him along with everyone else.
Finally he looked up, noticing the whole Hall staring, as if he'd forgotten everything around him. "Ah, right, pardon me," he muttered. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, and announced: "Hazel Potter!"
Fuck! The feast in her stomach curdled instantly, and she shivered, turning away. This was a bad dream, her name had not just come out of that Goblet, no one was staring at her, she'd wake up soon and-
"How'd you do it?" Draco muttered, staring blankly at her. "When'd you do it?"
"Do what," she said automatically, hugging herself, feeling rooted to her seat.
Snape had risen to his feet and was at Dumbledore's side, staring at the parchment. They exchanged words, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Snape was furious, but moments later he stepped back. "Hazel Potter! Hazel, up here please!" the Headmaster repeated, scanning the room for her.
"Move, you cow!" Pansy hissed, shoving Hazel out of her seat. She glared at Pansy and got to her feet, turning toward the high table on unsteady legs. Halfway up her legs gave out and she stumbled to the side, falling against some Ravenclaw boy and throwing up everything she'd eaten. She tried to stand but everything went hazy and she threw up again, oblivious to the grossed-out muttering around her.
Whoever she had thrown up on was taking it rather well, she thought distantly. They flicked their wand and made the vomit disappear, and someone else shoved a cup into her hands; she took it and rinsed her mouth and swallowed, the cold liquid helping somewhat to settle her nerves. "Sorry," she croaked, pushing away, nearly falling over again.
"Here, Hazel," someone said, and she realized it was Luna, taking her hand and helping her stay upright. It sucked being walked along, but her legs just didn't want to hold her up! At the end of the table the shock wore off and she regained her feet, clamping down on her mind with Occlumency to force some semblance of order into her thoughts. "Are you okay now?"
"Yeah, thanks Luna." She let go and went the rest of the way, ignoring the eyes on her. "Give me that parchment, Professor." Wordlessly he held it out, and she snatched it away; he lit his wand and held it aloft, and she saw the words Hazel Potter - Koldovstoretz written on it.
"Professor, that's not my handwriting!" she declared angrily. "I didn't put my name in that Goblet!"
"No one said you did, Potter," Snape said in a low tone. "For now, please enter the side chamber."
Fuming, she shoved the parchment into her pocket and stormed off toward the door, wishing she could curse someone right then. The teachers were all silent and staring, even Hagrid, who seemed to be in shock. She ignored them all and kept going, shoving the door open and slamming it behind her.
"What's going on?" Cedric called, from where he and the other two were waiting by a large fire. Portraits lined the walls, and as she stalked in, some of their occupants flitted from their frames. "Hazel? What's the matter?"
"Do they want us back in the Hall?" Fleur asked, cocking an eyebrow at her disheveled appearance.
"I- I'm not-" The words jumbled up in her throat though, and she could only shake her head defiantly.
The door swung open behind her and Ludo Bagman hurried in. "Unbelievable, it is!" he declared, somehow still cheerful in spite of everything. "Utterly fantastic!" He reached for Hazel's arm, and she flinched away from him, hardly needing some grinning fool to help her out now. "Lady and gentlemen, we have a fourth Triwizard Champion!"
Chapter 28: Kold StorageSummary:Why is it ALWAYS Hallo-fucking-ween?!
Notes:You've all been so lovely that I decided to update twice today, just because! Well, that and the last chapter was kinda short, lol
Chapter Text"What?" Krum replied, sounding confused. "Wasn't there an age rule?"
"No no, Mister Bagman is having the joke," Fleur said dismissively, shaking her silvery hair back. "But this one cannot be Champion, she is too young!"
"No joke at all, I assure you!" Bagman said placatingly. "Hazel's name came out of the Goblet of Fire, just like yours did!"
"That can't be," Cedric said, shaking his head. "There was an Age Line! We saw what happened when underage wizards tried to cross it, there must be a mistake of some kind."
"There has been a mistake!" Hazel finally got out, stamping her foot on the ground.
Before she could go on the door opened yet again, and a gaggle of Professors entered the room: Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime and Snape. There was a loud buzzing from the Hall beyond before Snape shut the door, from the students all gossiping at full speed.
Immediately Fleur crossed the room to stand with her headmistress. "Madame Maxime, what is going on? They are saying this little girl is to compete with us!"
"Little girl?!" Hazel nearly shouted, glaring at the (only slightly taller) Fleur. "Who are you calling-?!"
"Peace, Hazel," Dumbledore said placatingly, stepping between the two girls. "There has indeed been a mistake."
"I should say there has!" Karkaroff declared, a steely smile on his face. "Two Champions, Albus? After everything we agreed to!"
"What is the meaning of this, Dumbly-dorr?" Madame Maxime rumbled, drawing herself to her full height, the top of her head brushing the ceiling as her massive black-satin bosom heaved slightly with the force of her breathing. "There cannot be four Champions, it is most unjust!"
"All five of us were involved in creating the Age Line," Bagman pointed out helpfully. "It is impossible that she put her own name in!"
"And I myself put certain measures in place to ensure no underage Slytherin student would be able to reach the Goblet at night," Snape put in. "Measures that were not triggered, and could not have been bypassed by a mere student."
"Let us have everything on the record, of course," Dumbledore said, turning to Hazel. "Hazel, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"No sir," she replied sullenly, pushing her memory of the past two days and nights to the front of her mind as she maintained eye contact with him.
"And did you ask an older student or a professor to put your name in the Goblet?" he went on, ignoring the noises of disbelief from Karkaroff.
"No sir!" she said more forcefully. She felt him looking in her mind, and allowed it with a grimace. "I had nothing to do with this! That wasn't my handwriting, and I've never heard of that Kold Storage place anyway!"
"There is nothing to be done," came a new voice, and everyone jumped as Mr Crouch stepped into view. "The girl's name came out of the Goblet, she has been chosen, she is one of the Champions. Anything else is irrelevant." He made a sharp chopping gesture with one hand to emphasize the point.
"But I didn't put it there!" Hazel repeated, almost shouting. "And besides, I'm underage!"
"I insist that we redo the selection of Champions," Karkaroff said, dropping all pretense and now wearing a very ugly expression on his face. "Madame Maxime and I will send for more students and we will continue until each school has two Champions!"
"Ah, will that work, Karkaroff?" Madame Maxime said. "The Goblet seems to have gone out, after all."
"Yes, and it won't reignite until the next Tournament," Dumbledore said politely.
"In which Durmstrang will not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all our diplomacy, after months of negotiations and compromises! I should take my students and leave!"
"Please do, Karkaroff, we don't need your sorry hide anyway," growled yet another new voice. "But you'll have to leave Krum behind, eh? He's bound to compete now, they all are! Convenient, eh?" It was Moody, surly and unpleasant as ever, limping toward the fire with a dull clunk at every other step.
"What do you mean, convenient?" Karkaroff demanded, trying and failing to sound disdainful, as the balled-up fists at his sides gave it away. "Who invited your pet Auror in here, Dumbledore?"
"Alastor has every right to be here, just like any of us," Dumbledore said. "But yes, what do you mean by convenient?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Moody snapped, grabbing his flask and taking a long drink of the smelly contents. "Someone put Potter's name in there, under a fourth school, knowing she'd have no choice but to compete in the Tournament."
"It was obviously someone from Hogwarts!" Madame Maxime said harshly, jabbing a thick finger at Dumbledore. "Someone wanted Hogwarts to have two chances at victory! You thought you would get away with this, Dumbly-dorr?"
"I thought nothing, my dear Olympe," Dumbledore replied levelly, though he had narrowed his eyes at the accusation. "But why would I choose an underage student, if it had been me?"
"That is the heart of the matter," Snape interjected, putting a hand on Hazel's shoulder. "Miss Potter is underage. If someone at Hogwarts were plotting such a thing, they would have used an older student who had a chance at victory."
"Exactly!" Moody cried triumphantly. "That's exactly my point! Glory and galleons, a chance anyone would die for! And someone wants her to die for it!"
"Be quiet, Professor, and take your delusional paranoia elsewhere," Karkaroff spat. "I admit you have a point about Potter, but why should we play along?"
"That's right!" Hazel yelled, shaking Snape's hand off of her and stepping forward. "Why should I play along? Why do I have to compete in this stupid Tournament anyway?"
"Binding magical contract, Miss Potter," Mr Crouch insisted from his place by the fire, his visage looking more skull-like than ever. "You don't have a choice. None of you have a choice."
"Oh yeah?" She was feeling quite Gryffindorish now, reckless and angry and not quite thinking straight. "I won't play, you hear me? I'm not competing, I won't do it, I w-!"
Before she could finish, though, a searing pain unlike any she'd ever felt erupted in her chest, and she fell to her knees, gasping and helpless. The others leaped away from her, and her vision swam, taking on a sharp blue hue.
"Wh-What's happening?" she heard someone say, but it was distant and vague, impossible for her to focus on over the pain. "That- that fire!"
"Binding. Magical. Contract, Miss Potter," Mr Crouch said dispassionately, looming over her and making no move to help or hinder. "The pain you feel is your core being ripped away by the magic of the Goblet, which bound you when your name came out. Finish that sentence and you will lose all your magic and be left powerless, less than a Squib."
"Wha?" What a heartless old man, she thought dimly, still struggling to say the words. The pain flared and the blue fire intensified every time she got close, though. She looked away, saw Dumbledore at her side, saw Snape and Moody hovering beyond with matching expressions of horror and panic on their faces.
"Hazel, Hazel, don't finish that sentence, please don't finish that sentence," Dumbledore murmured, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. "Breath, Hazel, take it back."
"...okay!" she finally gasped, and at once the pain eased, the blue fire dimmed. "Okay! I'll do it, I'll compete, I'll do it, I'll do it!" The pain went away with every repetition, and the fire went with it.
"Are you alright?" Snape asked, hovering outside her reach.
"No, fuck no, I'm not alright," she panted, leaning on Dumbledore to rise to her feet. "What was that?"
"Just what Barty said," Snape said, flicking his wand and conjuring a glass. "Drink, Potter."
It was full of cold water, and she gulped it down. None of the other Champions seemed too eager to argue anymore, she noted, and neither did their Professors.
"How could this happen?" Fleur asked, looking up to Madame Maxime. "She did not submit herself, fine, but, but who did?"
"Someone had to have Confunded that Goblet," Moody said thoughtfully, "made it forget there's only three schools, and then submitted her name under a fourth school."
"Right, that Kold Storage place," Hazel said, pulling the parchment from her pocket. "See?"
"That is not Miss Potter's handwriting, as I explained to Albus," Snape said.
"The matter of who submitted Hazel's name, and how, will be investigated thoroughly," Dumbledore said, taking charge of the situation. "For now, however, we have no choice but to proceed with four Champions. Barty, you had further instructions for them?"
"Yes, the first Task." Mr Crouch cleared his throat and moved away from the fire. "It will take place on Saturday, the twenty-sixth of November, in front of the other students and the judges, and will test the Champions' daring and nerve. You may neither ask for or accept any aid from your professors in regard to any of the Tasks. You will not be informed of the nature of the Task until just before it begins. You will be allowed only your wands. Should you complete the Task you will receive information about the second Task. You will be exempt from any and all exams at the end of the year, due to the stress and constraints of the Tournament."
He turned to Dumbledore. "That is everything, Albus."
"If you say so, Barty." He looked at Mr Crouch with concern in his eyes. "You should stay another night or so here, I'm certain Mr Weasley is doing a fine job at the Ministry."
"Not a bad idea," Mr Crouch sighed, shaking his head wearily.
"That is not everything," Snape insisted. "What of her core, Albus?"
"Whatever could you mean, Severus?" he replied politely, though the glint in his eye told her he understood perfectly.
"It is hardly fair to expect her to play an adult's game with a child's magic. I insist that the seal on her core be lifted immediately."
Hazel's breath caught in her throat, and she glanced up at him. But he did not look down.
"If no one objects?" Dumbledore asked of the room at large. No one objected; Karkaroff and Maxime were already halfway out the door with their Champions in tow, Crouch looked bored and weary, Bagman was still bouncing happily on his feet. "A seal isn't something casually lifted, of course, we must prepare a ritual circle. Hazel, I will send for you before the first Task is to begin."
"Thank you, Headmaster," she replied, bowing.
"Will Hazel be okay?" Cedric asked, and she jumped slightly, having forgotten he was even still here.
"Miss Potter will be just fine, Mr Diggory. I suggest you get some rest, you both have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."
"Yes sir. Good night, Professors, Hazel." Cedric nodded to everyone and left the room. Hazel waited a few moments, then left as well, Snape following behind.
"Thanks for mentioning my core, Professor," Hazel said after they had passed through the empty Great Hall.
"Don't be foolish, Potter," he replied. "This has the Dark Lord's hand all over it, who else would wish to place you in mortal jeopardy?"
"Oh." That was a good point, actually, why hadn't she thought of it herself? "Well, I won't have to worry about that seal soon, so, thank you for that."
"I daresay it won't be fully lifted even then. You need only match the other Champions in power, after all."
So she still wouldn't have full access to all her magic, then. She sighed and told herself to be grateful for what she'd get, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. "I guess it's good that Moody's around then, isn't it? He knows what to look for with dark plots and things."
"I'm certain that was the Headmaster's reasoning as well." They had reached the dungeons by then, and he released her shoulder. "I wish for you to be extra vigilant with your nightly Occlumency, Miss Potter, and to maintain your dream catcher as well. If you have any further visions of the Dark Lord, seek me out as soon as possible. Am I understood?"
"Yes sir. Good night, sir." She bowed and stepped through the door, her mind a whirl. She was certain the others were convinced she had not put her own name in, but that still left the question of who did? Which of Voldemort's agents had penetrated Hogwarts security, even during the Tournament? Her first thought was Lucius Malfoy; Lockhart was too incompetent and Wormtail too cowardly, after all. And his best, most faithful lieutenants were still behind bars at Azkaban, too.
She was shaken out of her thoughts when she saw the fire was still going, and moving closer she also saw her friends gathered around it. "Where's everyone else? I'd thought the House would wanna party, or something."
"They did, but Draco convinced them to put it off for later," Daphne said, patting the seat next to hers. Hazel shrugged and sat down. "We knew you wouldn't want a big fuss, not tonight at least."
"Every month or so you're in here moaning about how you want to be famous by yourself, not by what other people did," Draco said. "We'll celebrate when you win the first Task."
An indescribable feeling of relief washed over her at those words, and she let out a heavy sigh. "They don't think I did it, then."
"They'd have to be pretty stupid to think you did it, Potter," Pansy said, her tone less sharp than usual. "We all saw your face when your name was called, we saw you throw up all over Roger Davies' cloak." She reached over and patted her arm. "You were honestly a disgrace, but I'll forgive you this once."
"Gee, thanks." Hazel rolled her eyes at that, and they all laughed. "That was pretty embarrassing, I have to admit." She yawned and stood up again. "I'm sleepy, g'night."
"See you in the morning, Champ," Draco replied, rolling his eyes.
"Call me Champ one more time and I'll hex you into next week, Draco," she said over her shoulder, already halfway across the room.
While getting ready for bed she found the bottle of Aging Potion, and wondered what she had wanted to do with it. Probably nothing appropriate, honestly. She decided to put it away for later, when she felt like there was something to celebrate.