the arrival
★ Chapter I: Barty
Most days, Barty wishes that Potions class would never end. It’s his favorite course and his best. He’s always looked forward to this last-period class, it’s relaxing in a way. He knows his way around a mortar and pestle, can slice anything as thinly as paper if need be, and has steady hands. Follow the instructions (mostly), pay attention to the small details, be careful. And, voila, an Outstanding in the class.
Today, however, was not one of those days. He was itching to get out of class, ready to bolt out of his chair and run down the halls to the courtyard alongside the whole school population as soon as it was over. He looks down at his wrist to check the time, but again realizes he forgot to put on his watch this morning.
For the fourth time this class, Barty nudges Remus’ side to get his attention. The other boy doesn’t look up, immensely concentrated with his brow furrowed as he carefully tips a few drops of castor oil in their bubbling cauldron.
Remus sighs as he screws the lid back on and sets it down. “You just asked me a moment ago. My answer will be the same.”
“Fine, then. I won't ask,” Barty grumbles impatiently, slumping into his seat. He looks around the classroom lazily as Remus readies another ingredient.
The pair at the potion station directly in front of them are Potter and Black, seemingly not making much progress. Sirius levitates a bug of some sort in James’ face, who is adding the wings of said bug into the cauldron, most definitely not an ingredient Barty saw on the list. He catches sight of the jar on their table and checks the label. Yup, definitely not an ingredient for this one. Their potion bubbles and turns into a muddy brown colour. Potter stops trying to shrink back from the insect and successfully smashes it in between their shared Advanced Potions textbook and table.
Sirius groans as James lifts up the book, bug guts splattered all over the page.
“Look at what you’ve done to my book, you git!” Sirius exclaims, while James just laughs and slings an arm around the other boy’s shoulder. “It was mine first, remember.”
“You can’t even make out the words,” Sirius goes on, performing a water charm, then a drying charm, which just warps the thin paper further instead of helping it. The page goes from maybe salvageable to downright illegible.
“Well, I remember the next ingredient was boomslang skin, so get some of that for me, would you?” James says to Sirius, motioning with a hand for him to leave and fetch it.
Sirius scoffs and crosses his arms. “It was not boomslang skin, that was nowhere on the page. Next goes chopped dandelions, five, I think.”
To his credit, Black does remember the correct amount of flowers. Unfortunate that he and Potter already mucked the whole thing up with the insect wings. Barty watches as they argue a bit more as their potion turns darker and thicker, resembling a revolting sludge.
“C’mon we have to try to save it, at least try,” Sirius says distraughtly while looking around for a miracle ingredient that will somehow fix the elixir, “Maybe Slughorn will take some small pity on us.”
James cracks a grin. “Well then, we better get our hands on another potions book. Let’s ask Remus.”
From what Barty has gathered from observing and being around this trio, Remus is the solution to most of their problems, it seems. James and Sirius stand up and head over to Remus and Barty. Barty pretends to look busy.
Barty gets along with Remus. He’s smart and usually self-reserved, and similar to Barty in many ways. They both have witty comments on the tips of their tongues at all times, the difference being Remus usually holds them back, whereas Barty speaks his mind. For the most part, they like and dislike the same people, students from Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, and enjoy gossiping while they measure out ingredients or sort bottles in a potions cabinet.
See, at the start of term, they had found themselves to be the only students in the class without partners. The class was made up of Gryffindor and Slytherin students in years six and seven. Barty was wary at first, he had been forced to be partners with a Gryffindor after all. But he quickly grew to like Remus’ quiet, witty company. Sometimes, Barty would glimpse another side of Remus, a sharper, more wild one. He would laugh too loud, say something he wasn't supposed to, make a dirty comment. Barty liked him, liked getting to know him better, the studious bookworm with the mouth of a sailor. And after spending a part of his day with Remus for almost a whole year, he would consider them to be friends. Remus puts up with Barty’s constant complaining. Barty doesn't ask about Remus’ clockwork absences and pulls more weight when he returns, sensitive to the noises and smells and colors of the overwhelming classroom. They have an understanding of sorts.
However, the affinity he has for Remus does not extend to his other friends. He doesn’t exactly dislike James and Sirius, but he doesn't especially like them either. Loud and troublesome are the first words that come to mind to describe them. Well, also unfairly good-looking, but that’s beside the point. The point is that trouble clings to these two rambunctious boys, and not the quiet and fun mischief Barty sometimes finds himself in. It’s the kind that catches everyone’s attention, the kind that ensures lingering stares and whispers at the breakfast table. Their popularity tugs at something deep in Barty’s chest, twisting and relentless and annoying. Students always seem to be smiling in their direction, fighting for their attention or a spot at their table. Barty could bet more than a few galleons they don’t feel nauseous when they realize hols are coming up and they have to go home. The Potters are a lovely little family, he’s heard.
A small part of himself can admit it's jealousy. But the larger, more prideful part of him pushes it down as best he can, along with his feelings of possessiveness over Remus. He shouldn’t dislike someone just because he wishes he was them.
After checking that Professor Slughorn was currently busy helping a student on the other side of the classroom, James and Sirius practically skip over to them, all smiles and glow.
“Heya, Moony.” James starts. He gives Barty a half grin, taking note of his presence, which he appreciates.
Remus cuts straight to the chase. “I heard you a moment ago. Me and half the class know you spoiled the pages of your book.”
“Oh great, we-” James starts again, hopeful.
“But I'm afraid Barty and I are still in the process of using ours. So if you need to look at one, the Professor has some spares in those back cabinets over there.” He says, pointing vaguely to an area near the door.
“But you have two,” James protests, “I don't see why you can't share one and lend us the other. Please, Remus.”
Remus smiles at him sweetly. “No. Now, go and ask Slughorn; he’s right over there.”
It takes effort to prevent a smile on his face, Barty is finding this situation hilarious. Remus is possibly one of the only people at this school who can say no to James Potter.
Unfortunately, he mildly miscalculated. Because Sirius Black is also a part of the equation.
Sirius leans on the table, his elbows propped up and head resting in his hands. He’s face to face with Remus, giving him a sort of pouty look. Remus’ gaze flickers to Sirius’ pink lips more than once, Barty amusedly takes note of.
“Alright Moony, that’s fair. I just figured since you’re the best potion maker in the class and are the most loyal, kind, bestest friend to us, you would be willing to help.” Sirius looks at him with wide eyes and curls a strand of hair around his finger.
Remus lifts an eyebrow but still doesn't seem to be won over.
“Fine,” Sirius sighs, “If you let us borrow your textbook, I'll give you back all of your jumpers I stole this semester. I’m really giving up good leverage here, please help us.”
“I knew it was you!” Remus says. He tries to glare but his gaze is soft and smiley. “You bastard, I asked you so many times and you said you had no idea where they’d gone!”
Sirius shrugs. “They’re comfy to sleep in.”
Barty and James share a look, seemingly both having the thought that this feels a little private and awkward to be watching. Barty cocks his head with a grin and James gives him a look that reads “don’t ask.”
Remus gives Sirius the textbook, who smiles smugly. “You better keep up your end of the deal, Black.”
Sirius looks at him with a grin, flashing his sharp canines. “You know I always do.” He sends a wink to Remus and turns away, leaving Remus with a deep flush on his face. James joins his partner and they start to hurriedly do their best to salvage the elixir.
Barty sends a glance at Remus, who is still blushing, apparently engrossed in searching through the cabinet of bottles at their station.
“So, how long have you and Black been together?” Barty asks with a teasing grin.
Remus startles and looks up at him with an alarmed expression. “No, it's not like that. I’m not - we’re just friends. I’m not like that.” He won’t meet Barty’s gaze. A tiny amount of guilt and shame gnaw at Barty. He should have been more careful, thinking about what he was saying. He assumed Remus would have picked up some hints Barty had dropped about his own not-so-straightness, but apparently not.
Barty does his best to explain himself and drops his voice. “No, sorry, Remus, It’s okay. Look, I’m like you. We’re the same. I genuinely meant it, I'm not some homophobic asshole. Quite the opposite actually.” He smiles softly.
A wave of relief seems to crash over Remus. “Oh.” Remus looks at him like he’s seeing Barty in a new light, like something missing is clicking into place.
“Oh, good,” He repeats and clears his throat, “Well, I - erm, fancy him, yeah,” He says shyly, “But we’re not together. I don’t think he likes me, he’s not like us. Sirius is just nice and flirty to everyone.”
His last sentence seems to come out more like Remus is reminding himself, like it’s something he’s convinced himself over and over. Barty quirks an eyebrow at him.
“Are you sure?” Barty laughs quietly, “Because to me -,”
“Okay, okay.” Remus laughs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Barty grins and gives it up. “Fine. Thanks for telling me about, well, you know.”
Remus nods, his voice still quiet. “It’s nice to know you’re like me. I don’t really have many gay friends, no one really talks about it. I get, you know, vibes about people sometimes, but you never really know.”
Barty knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I get it.”
Professor Slughorn claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Right, class is almost over, so please clean up your stations and bottle up your potions. You’ll receive your grade next class.” He announces to the students.
Barty’s heartbeat starts to pick up. Class is almost over. He hurriedly wipes down the countertop, cleans the knives, and tidies up their station. He packs his textbook into his messenger bag and rolls back down the sleeves of his white button-up.
“Don’t forget to skim over the process for our next potion, class! Pages two hundred to two hundred and four.” Slughorn reminds everyone hurriedly as they practically run out of the room, chattering excitedly.
“Rem, hurry up!” Sirius calls from near the door, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “Regulus is almost here!” Remus waves a goodbye to Barty before turning and joining a smiling Sirius and James, and the trio joins the sea of students. Barty is one of the last people still in the classroom.
“Thank you, professor.” Barty calls to Slughorn like he always does, who gives him a cheery smile and nod in return. “Always a pleasure to have you in class, my boy.”
And with that, Barty steps into the crowded hallway, clutching his bag to his chest. His heartbeat is thundering, he’s giddy with adrenaline. The flow of students leads him to the courtyard, where all the students of Hogwarts are now. They're sitting on benches or tucked in between columns, or just standing in the cold grass huddled in a circle. It’s quiet, people watch the sky and the water below with anticipation. The air feels static with energy.
Barty leans against the stone, the hard cold seeping into the side of his body. He cups his hands to his mouth and blows hot air on them, which does little to help. His gaze is glued to the gloomy grey sky above.
“There!” Someone exclaims, pointing down below to the dark water. People’s stares follow. Excited chatter breaks out as a flag slowly raises out of the water, then the mast of a ship becomes visible. Eventually, the huge vessel comes into view, bobbing in the choppy waves. The wooden hull creaks loudly and the ship’s huge sails are dropped, catching and billowing in the wind. The Durmstrang students have arrived.
Cheers break out around the courtyard and grow louder as the sound of flapping wings comes into earshot. A dozen pegasi pulling a huge carriage burst out of the clouds above, a patch of sunlight breaking through. The carriage is pulled down and comes so close to the students that a strong gust of cold wind is generated. Students clamor to get a better look, crowding the windows and columns near where Barty is standing. He pushes himself back as much as he can, trying to make himself small. His heart is still thundering in his chest, watching with wide eyes through the stone archway at the beautiful white-winged horses. The carriage swoops down to presumably land near Hagrid’s hut, now out of sight to the students and faculty so high up. The Students from Beauxbatons are here. Evan is here. Evan, Evan, Evan, Barty’s thoughts chant.
Evan is here.
“Students!” Professor McGonagall shoots a burst of light into the air to get everyone’s attention. People quiet down for the most part. “Will everyone make their way to the Great Hall for the feast, please? Our guests will be with us shortly.”
Everyone makes their way inside and into the Great Hall, teeth chattering and arms wrapped around themselves. Barty sits down at the Slytherin table with some acquaintances. They chatter excitedly as Barty listens, cupping his hands around a warm glass of pumpkin juice. He takes a sip that warms his chest and rests his head on a propped-up arm.
Above, snow flutters down from the enchanted ceiling but melts and vanishes before it can reach any people below. All the torches in the room are lit, making the hall bright and welcoming. Food is piled high onto all the tables and a merry tune is coming from somewhere nearby. The room is alive with chatter and laughter and something tugs at Barty’s chest again. But unlike earlier, it’s light. Its excitement and anticipation and hope. He smiles into his hand.
Everyone quiets down completely as Dumbledore steps up to his lectern, hot wax dripping down near his feet. He clears his throat.
“Welcome, students,” He starts, voice booming and echoing throughout the huge room.
“As you are well aware by now, our special guests have arrived. They will be staying with us this year, as it is Hogwarts’ turn to host the Triwizard Tournament of 1977.”
Eager murmurs break out as the tournament is addressed. Dumbledore continues. “The Triwizard Tournament is a series of trials meant to test one’s magical ability. Three students will be chosen, one from each school, to compete for the Triwizard Cup and a prize of 1000 galleons. But be warned. These tasks are dangerous, and they can lead to death. Do not attempt to join if you are not willing to accept the risks. Now, in light of the fact that recent tournaments have proven more perilous than expected, there have been some changes made to the rules.”
Students at Barty’s table look around at one another, some, like him, probably recalling that not a single champion made it out alive of the last one that happened five years ago. The murmuring grows louder.
“First, for one to enter the tournament, they must be at least sixteen or seventeen years of age,” Exclamations of outrage echo across the room, and the murmuring grows even more. “In addition, each student will be given a special advantage this year. They will be able to call upon a fellow student, one who is not competing with them, if they are in danger and need assistance. This friend can be from any of the three schools. This student will aid their competitor and stay by their side for the task if called upon. A champion can choose three students, one for each task they participate in, or rely solely on one person. The choice is theirs if they wish to utilize this new addition to the tournament or not.”
The talking is out of hand now, and Dumbledore must realize that he can’t do much to control it quickly. Luckily, everyone’s attention is caught by the huge doors of the Great Hall opening with a creak, revealing the Durmstrang students and their high master. Everyone quiets down in anticipation as they march in confidently. There are about twenty students, both boys and girls, ranging in age, though most seem to be on the older side.
They are dressed in fur wraps and red and brown clothes. Those in the front line carry wooden staffs that they pound on the ground in time to their march. Orange and yellow sparks come shooting out, and Hogwarts students at nearby tables flinch away on instinct. The Durmstrang students have fire in their eyes, and some grin or laugh at the reactions. The Hogwarts students smile back good-naturedly and sheepishly.
The Durmstrang students without staffs take out their wands and point them upwards, casting a spell to put all the lights in the hall out. It’s pitch black, except for the faint twilight light coming in through the windows. The students wielding staffs at the front spin them around, sparks and fire flying out to create a wall of light. Another spell is cast and a huge phoenix made of flame appears, rising over all the Durmstrang students. It flaps its wings, spreading a warm draft and bright light throughout the room. It soars up, and gracefully dives back down again, smashing into the wall of fire. It disappears when the wall explodes, and only embers remain. They float around the room and die out quickly. The torches in the hall light up again and the students take a bow.
The room erupts into clapping and whistles and the Durmstrang students take their seats, near the Gryffindors. Two long tables had been added to the front of the Great Hall, near the professor’s tables, one on each side. Theirs is on the far right, connected to the Gryffindor students. The table for the Beauxbatons students is to the left, connected to the Slytherin table. The Gryffindor students chat excitedly and motion wildly to the Durmstrang students, probably complimenting the fire show. Barty spots Remus, who happens to be sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, talking and smiling with a redhead Durmstrang girl sitting at the end of her table.
The doors open again, and the room goes silent. Barty wishes it wasn't so quiet, he’s worried the people around him are able to hear his erratic heartbeat. Footsteps sound and the students of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress walk in. Like Durmstrang, there are also around twenty students of different ages and genders. They wear the same pretty shade of blue, in silk dresses or dress shirts, and those with long hair have it tied back in ponytails with an elegant ribbon.
Barty tries to get a better view, but the students sitting at the Ravenclaw table mildly obstruct the Sytherin’s vision of the walkway in the center of the Great Hall.
The Beauxbaton students walk further into the room, a gorgeous pale boy with dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes at the front. He readies his wand and seems to let out a breath. Then, to everyone’s amazement, he flips back and does a handspring, but in the midst of spinning, he must have performed a water charm of sorts. Because instead of landing on the ground, he ends up a foot above the floor standing on a circle of ice. He jumps forward into the air again, and his hands now close around a hoop of ice that materializes. He pulls himself up and settles himself so he’s sitting in the ring. It rises higher and higher. Everyone cranes their head up to look in awe.
The aerialist leans and falls backward over the side, some in the audience gasp, but his bent knees catch him. He points his wand towards the floor below and blue sparkles fall over the crowd, who clap delightedly.
A Beauxbaton student below does a silent accio charm to take his wand. With his now free hands, the boy twists himself back up so he’s more sideways than upright and the hoop starts to gently spin in a wide circle. He’s on his back, sitting curled up inside the hoop now, his hands above him keeping their tight hold. The audience gasps again as he slowly starts leaning to the side. He falls. But his ankle hooks around the hoop and one hand is still holding on, his body directly under the curve, his arched back pressed up against the ice. It looks like he’s flying, with his free arm stretched out in front of him as if he’s reaching for something, and his other leg folded underneath his body. Then he lets go with his hand, and now he’s just hanging upside down with just a leg keeping him from dropping twenty-five feet in the air.
The ice hoop melts and the boy falls through the air. The boy rolls in the air gracefully so he’s face up, a hand reaching towards the ceiling. Someone abruptly stands, the bench scraping loudly from under them.
At the last second, the boy’s fellow Beauxbaton students use their magic to break his fall in a cloud of something soft. Barty lets a breath out as the boy rises from the cloud and stands back on solid ground. He takes a bow and the audience goes wild. James Potter sits back down in his seat, an embarrassed hand on the back of his neck as he laughs along with the people around him.
The cloud isn't a cloud at all, Barty realizes. It’s a huge swarm of magical butterflies, coloured silver and white and light blue.
Without warning, a jolt like a spark of electricity hits him right below his ear, it stings a little. His attention is ripped away from the dark haired boy and he looks around to what caused it, a hand on his neck.
Suddenly Evan Rosier is there, looking at him with his big green eyes, and everything freezes. The cheers around him are muffled, his vision is blurred around the edges so Evan is solely in focus.
Evan tips his head playfully, his dyed-white locs swaying. He’s biting his lip and grinning, watching Barty through a gap of student’s heads and shoulders. His wand is still pointed at Barty in one hand. In the other hand is a little paper butterfly, the same white color and shape of those that were just magically conjured. Barty smiles and shakes his head unbelievably. Evan just smiles back, and without breaking eye contact, holds the butterfly in his palm up to his face and blows it to Barty like a kiss.
For a moment, Barty is alarmed, thinking everyone will notice the bright white butterfly fluttering towards him, but in that moment, the dark haired boy’s swarm of butterflies explode and fly gracefully around the room, disguising the one out of place. With them, they bring a tinkling tune. All around, butterflies diverge from the swarm and land on fingers or tops of heads or rims of cups.
Evan’s paper butterfly lands gently on Barty’s nose and he quickly puts it into his hand and unfolds it. It’s a note. It reads: meet me at our spot in five minutes.
Barty looks for Evan, but he’s not where he just was a minute ago in the middle of the hall. His school has moved on and just sat down at their table by the Slytherins. Unfortunately, Barty’s sitting on the opposite side to the end where the Beauxbaton table is.
He watches as Evan talks to his headmistress for a moment, then leaves the Great Hall. Barty tells someone at his table he’s going to use the washroom, which he’s not sure they even heard, then practically runs down the length of the room and into the corridor.
The corridor is lit with torches, but it’s still gloomy. Barty’s footsteps echo on the stone and portraits whisper to each other as he passes by. Eventually, he turns into a hallway that leads him to the bottom of the astronomy tower. But instead of going up the steps to the open top floor with the telescopes and star charts, he turns his attention to the huge model of the solar system pushed against the wall.
The planets and stars are all suspended by magic and they spin lazily around. Barty’s fingers tingle with the pressure of magic as he reaches his hand into the galaxy, stepping up onto his tiptoes to lightly touch Saturn. To his relief, Saturn’s ring floats gently off the planet and onto his wrist, transforming into one of the two matching thin silver bracelets he and Evan wore their entire first four years at the school. Back when Evan was a Hogwarts student with him.
He treads back to the base of the staircase. On the side of the very bottom step, he finds the circular indent pressed into the stone, and traces it with a finger. He presses the bracelet into the notch and it fits perfectly, making a deep sound from below as something clicks into place. Barty steps back as the secret staircase leading downwards appears. He fits his bracelet back on his wrist and ventures down into the dark stairwell.
Memories cloud his head as he makes his way down as he’s done so many times before, so many years ago. He smiles as he reaches the wooden door at the bottom, and knocks once before letting himself in.