IV - RIDDLE
Two days have passed,
After the incident people started to look at Leora differently, some were scared of her, the other seemed to admire her more.
"I don't know, it's kinda hot but scary but hot…" Commented Seamus from his seat at Defense against the dark art class
"I've never seen Leia that angry before…" Said Harry in concern while he was also waiting for the Slytherin to arrive.
When they arrived, he saw Leora sit beside Theodore as usual and Daphne sit with Pansy as she out of nowhere give Harry a little finger while grinned rather adorably.
Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”
They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.
Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”
There was a general murmur of assent.
“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal
with Dark —”
“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.
Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled — the first time Harry had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.
“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. . . . Yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. . . . One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.” He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
“So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves,he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back
of his head.
“So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.
“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”
“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him — Ron hated spiders.
Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered,
“Imperio!”
The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing — everyone except Moody.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?” The laughter died away almost instantly.
“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats . . .”
Ron gave an involuntary shudder.
“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all powerful. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.
“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?” His eyes then landed into Leora who glared at him hatefully, Harry was stunned for a moment, he had never seen Leora ever look at someone like that, her eyes always so full of love and gentleness.
"You must know the second one, Miss Black. From what I heard before the ministry deemed the curse illegal, the Black family used the curse as a method to discipline their children. You must be familiar with it since Walburga Black is really conservative."
Instead of Leora, Theodore was the one who answered him. "How dare you." Said Theodore.
"Excuse me? What is it, Mister Nott?"
"... It's Cruciatus cursed." Spat Theodore as Harry could see he held Leora hand under the desk, and he noticed how Leora was trembling.
Harry realizes that Leora is out again and lost in the past, but that means she somehow has experience with this curse. Harry didn't know the cruciatus curse but if the first curse was already that worst what about the second one?....
“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider.
“Engorgio!”
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible.
Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered,
“Crucio!”
At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming.
Moody did not remove his wand, and
the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently —
“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly.
Harry feels his heart sink into his stomach. He heard before from Sirius how bad is Walburga Black as his mother and Leora's Grandmother. And Moody saying something like The Black Families used this curse as a method to discipline their children. And Leora's been living with Walburga for five years before Regulus comes back.
Is she… has she had to go through all this before?
And it seems Ron notices that too because he is starting to look pale and looks like he wants to empty his stomach.
Harry looked around at Hermione. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville and Leora, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that Neville’s hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. While Leora buries her face in the crook of Theodore's neck as he murmurs something while keep stroking her hair.
Theodore then took Leora's hand and led her to leave the class followed by Malfoy, the rest of their friends wanted to come too but Malfoy told them to stay.
Moody didn't say anything about that, but for a moment Harry thought he saw anger flashing on his eyes, a little fury, he didn't know to whom that anger directed to.
But he didn't think it was because some Slytherin ditch his class….
Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.
“Reducio,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too."
“Right . . . anyone know any others?”
Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone’s faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Hermione’s hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.
“Yes?” said Moody, looking at her.
“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione whispered. Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.
“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse.”
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.
“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”
Harry felt his face redden as Moody’s eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all. . . .
So that was how his parents had died . . .
exactly like that spider.
***
Today is the day for the Drumstrang and Beauxbaton arrival at Hogwarts. The student was led by the head house to be presented in the entrance hall for the welcoming ceremony.
They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.
Leora stood beside Theodore as they waited for the arrival. She heard Daphne talk about how beautiful the beauxbaton uniform was, she saw it from the witch weekly magazine and compared it to her Slytherin robe that in her opinion looks dull.
"It didn't show our curve nicely, I hate it." Complained Daphne.
And Leora nods, "I wish Hogwarts hired some muggle famous fashion designer to design our uniform. Like Christian Dior or Louis Vuitton, Saint Laurent is also nice."
Daphne squeals, "Yes! I hate to admit this but clearly muggles have better fashion choices than us wizards."
Their conversation come to an abrupt end when they heard Dumbledore shout,
“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”
“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. The gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed — then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year’s foot, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then a high-heeled black shoe emerged from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child’s sled — followed, almost immediately, by the large woman. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained.
She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
A few people gasped.
"That's how you make an entrance, with flair and power." Commented Leora as she watched the woman in open adoration.
"That's, Madame Maxine. She is the headmistress of Beauxbaton." Explained Pansy, as Leora nodded, "That explains a lot, a beautiful school indeed needs a beautiful woman to be in charge."
Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely bent to kiss it.
“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”
“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ’ope I find you well?”
“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.
“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
A dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.
“ ’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.
“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?
“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime.
“But ze ’orses —”
“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned
from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges.”
“My steeds require — er — forceful ’andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are
very strong. . . .”
“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.
“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’horses drink only single-malt whiskey?”
“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing.
“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
Among the Beauxbaton students, Leora saw a familiar face that made her gasp in surprise.
What the bloody hell?
She was about to confront the familiar student when suddenly Lee Jordan shout.
“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.
Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor. . . . What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then they saw the rigging. . . .
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight.
It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes. passing the lights in the ship’s portholes.
But then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, they saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy,
matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.
“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope.
“How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”
“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.
Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own. .
“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd.
“How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . .”
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Leora caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. And she noticed him as Victor Krum.
She can hear a faint murmur of peoples and surprise gasp, but what caught her attention is not Krum.
But, rather a young man at the same age as her, with dark curly hair and deep red wine eyes who smiles mysteriously at her.
***
At the Great Hall,
The Beauxbaton students chose to sit at Ravenclaw tables while the Drumstrang sat at Slytherin tables. Leora could see how her cousin, Draco, immediately expanded his networking by talking with Krum. The young man with a mysterious smile that caught her attention before, sits on the other side of Draco which is in front of her and Theodore.
Draco still talks to Krum as Blaise and Lorenzo, who are interested in Drumstrang culture, join the conversation. The mysterious boy introduced himself,
"Hello. Mind if I sit here?" He asked politely.
Leora immediately nodded while Theodore and his trust issue looked at the Drumstrang boy in front of him in suspicion.
"No. That Alois place." Said Theodore and Leora immediately nudged him.
"Sure, you can sit here. Sorry, our Theodore here is shy and doesn't like new people that much, and Alois is already sitting with Daphne and Pansy over there so it's alright." Said Leora quickly as she smiled sheepishly.
"Ah… Sorry, I don't mean to intrude but the seat is apparently full and mostly taken, so…"
"No no that's alright, you can sit anywhere you like, ummm sorry, your name?"
"Oh, Pardon me, how impolite of me. I should have Introduced myself first, I'm Mattheo, Mattheo Riddle."
Leora's smile instantly dropped when hearing his last name, now she noticed why Mattheo looks so familiar to her, but that couldn't be, right?
"I'm sorry? R-Riddle?" She asked in confusion.
"Yes, Riddle. is there something wrong?"
Leora frowned but immediately dismissed her thought, Riddle is pretty much a common name, right. So Mattheo probably doesn't have anything to do with the younger Dark Lord.
"Nothing, Ummm I'm Leora Black by the way," Said Leora as she began to introduce all her friends to Mattheo so she could hide her nervousness "And this Theodore Nott. The blonde one who talks with Krum is my cousin, Draco Malfoy. In front of Draco is Lorenzo Berkshire and beside Lorenzo is Blaise Zabini. And over there, the one who usually sits in your place right now is Alois Rosier, but — What? — Um apparently he is too busy flirting with some of your schoolmates it seems, Beside Alois is Daphne Greengrass and beside Daphne is Pansy Parkinson. They are all my friends."
"You have interesting friends." Commented Mattheo.
Leora continued to have a casual conversation with Mattheo, and clearly Theodore didn't like it. The conversation ended when Dumbledore spoke.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”
“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”
Leora squealed happily when she saw lots of french cuisine on the table. She starts picking some of her favorite dishes and eats them gracefully.
The feast is delicious as usual, but Theodore feels so guarded because lots of Drumstrang students keep stealing a glance at Leora. Not that Theodore can't Blame them, first the Drumstrang is an all boys school, second Leora is really really beautiful. The young lord of Nott house keeps sending whoever looks at Leora a deadly glare.
But the one who stares at her a lot and seems unfazed by Theodore is the Drumstrang boy who sits in front of Leora, Mattheo Riddle.
Theodore then wrapped his arms around Leora's waist and kissed her temple lovingly as he locked his eyes with Mattheo.
Leora didn't notice the way the boys glare at each other fiercely as she continued to have some Creme Brulee with delighted voices until someone called her.
"Leia! What on earth is your father doing here?!" The one who called her turned out to be Draco.
Leora looked at the staff table, and saw her father sit there and immediately winked at Leora.
'In the name of Poseidon ugly pants, what on earth are you doing in there?!' Asked Leora using legillemens to talk into her father's mind.
'Well, that's a surprise, I won't tell you yet.' He said as he put an occlumency wall in his mind so she can't talk to him.
Leora looks at her father in disbelief as he has some conversation with Ludo Bagman. Surprisingly There's two people who seemed like they didn't like him to be there, first was Barty Crouch Senior, second was Mad-Eye Moody.
"That's your father?" Asked Mattheo curiously.
"Yeah…" Said Leora sheepishly.
"So? What is Uncle Regulus doing here?" Asked Draco curiously.
"I don't know, he won't tell me." Said Leora as she continued to glare at her father who was ignoring her now as he talked with Professor Snape.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.
“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Septwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation” — there was a smattering of polite applause — “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand.
Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced.
"Also we have Mr. Regulus Black here is the previous victor from International Wizarding Competition of Magical Skills, yes Lord Black here in his younger days used to participate in international events at the age of 19 after he graduated from Hogwarts. He was here now as a honorary guest and sponsor for the septwizard tournament." Explained Dumbledore that made Leora look at her father in disbelief.
"How in the freaking name of Zeus bloody pants, I never knew that?" She curses in Greek and somehow Mattheo understands because he laughs.
When Dumbledore mentioned Regulus' name, The Black head immediately waved his hand and smiled charmingly as he wink. The girls immediately squeal and swoon at him while Leora grimaces.
"Leora! If your father looks for a new mother for you, please recommend me!" Said Daphne as Leora immediately gives her the middle finger as Daphne laughs wholeheartedly.
“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Septwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”
At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.” Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels.
“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
“As you know, seven champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “two and three from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”
Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of
Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”
As the ceremony ended Leora saw that familiar beauxbaton student again and immediately approached her in the hallway, "Wait!" Said Leora.
The familiar student stops and looks at her, soon Leora can feel the time stop, people beside her freeze. "You are Circe, what are you doing here?"
"Yes, it's me, hello again little witch. It's been two? no three years since I first saw you at my beautiful resort with Clarissa. Shame that you refused to work for me, you will make a brilliant apprentice." Said Circe, she dresses like one of Beauxbaton students, looks like she is only a few olders than her.
"Why are you here?" Asked Leora, guarded.
"Do not fret, little dove. I'm here because Lady Hecate sent me. She has a message for you and I might as well enjoy the Tournament, did you know I used to attend the Beauxbaton for real and watch the first tournament?"
"What message?" Said Leora to the point, make Circe pouted, "You are no fun, but alright, Lady Hecate wants you to participate in the tournament. If you win, she will grant you the power you seek and help you in the near future."
And then Leora can feel it, greediness crawling on her skins and rattling her bones and it reflects on the swirling silvery dust on her eyes.
Her dreams, she has that dream and she wants it.
"Yes, greed, ambition! This is the real you, the real you that not many people see. The reason why the sorting hat puts you in Slytherin instead of another house, is because of Ambition. So, do you accept the term, daughter of love?"
"Yes, I do."
***
After agreeing to Circe and Hecate's offer, Leora goes back to the Great hall. All the students have already left but the staff still linger, including her father.
"Don't you owe some explanation to me, Father?" Said Leora as Regulus smirked playfully at her.
"Don't you miss me, darling daughter?"
"No. Explain." Said Leora as she refused to hug her Father.
"Well, so I have this strange feeling that tells my gut that you will somehow manage to participate in the tournament, so here I am, I will do everything to stop you from doing it."
Leora laughs, "Good luck with that because, yes, I plan to participate."
"What?" Regulus' smile instantly drops, "You can't and I absolutely forbid you! Don't you dare!"
"Try to stop me if you can, Father. Because I will be one of the champions by the end of tomorrow night." Said Leora as she left her father feeling guilty but she didn't have a choice either.
She must do this.