The Selection
Chapter 2: The Selection.
-Mintaka-
6 September 1991
My heart was beating within my throat, yet I could feel it as it hit the floor, tumbling out of me, and trying to get away from the visceral fear I felt. Dumbledore and Minister Riddle were both standing in the dining hall packed full of children, the tension in the air was palpable. The selection for the 54th annual Triwizarding Tournament was about o commence.
“If I call your name, please follow the orange lanterns to the Victor Chamber.” Pansy and Draco each clutched onto my hands. Draco is on the left and Pansy is on the right. When the Victors are selected, we are informed on when and where to meet our mentors, previous victors, some houses have one mentor others have two, it all depends on how many times a victor from that house has won the games. As far as I’m aware Slytherin has two- them being my mother and aunt, Gryffindor has one- Professor McGonagall, Ravenclaw had one- Pandora Lovegood, and Hufflepuff has two- James Michaels and Susan Jefferson.
“The victors for Gryffindor…” Professor Dumbledore pulls a piece of parchment from the goblet. “Jordan Wilken,” A girl stands nervously, moving swiftly out of the room. “…and Michael Chase.” Both the Gryffindor victors were in their seventh year, Jordan Wilken being a prefect and top student as well.
Dumbledore pauses, pulling another slip of paper out of the goblet, “The victors for Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, and Megan Smith,” a fifth year and a second year, Hanna looked close to teas while Cedric squared his shoulders and strutted out the door, following the lanterns. “Ravenclaw victors… Cho Chang and Jessica Hearth,” a second year and a sixth year.
Dumbledore pulls out another slip of parchment, and Draco and Pansy’s hands tighten even further around mine. “And lastly our Slytherin victors,” He pauses re-reading the paper. “Draco Malfoy and Mintaka Lestrange.” The hall is quiet, Pansy’s face twists in horror, Draco becomes even more pale, I tug the boy up. I am sure that I am pale, and I look as horrified as I feel right now.
I tug him along as we make our way to where the lanterns guide us. The door is open and filled with both victors and mentors. Professor McGonagall pales as she spots us, remembering what I had told her about having a bad feeling about this tournament. I see Aunt Andromeda, she looks- like she knew, she doesn’t seem surprised. The Black family is cursed to have to compete each time. Next to her, a woman who looks haggard and unkempt- my mother. I rush to her, forcing my way into her arms before she even sees me coming.
My breathing is tense, Draco is in the arms of Aunt Andromeda, and several other victors are being comforted by their mentors. To most, this is a death sentence. Dumbledore and Minister Riddle enter the room not too long after we did.
“Congratulations, victors, as you all are now aware, you will be our victors for the Hogwarts Tournament, whereafter one or two of you will move on into the interschool tournament.” He pauses for a moment, almost as if he is waiting for us to exclaim joyously at the news.
Everyone looks at him silently. “You have the choice to either follow your class schedules or train around the clock, as long as you are on school grounds- everyone competing in the tournament gets and automatic outstanding in all of their classes. Electives or otherwise.” He takes a breath. “In three months on the 3rd of December you will all be entering the arena, the Saturday before that there will be a yule ball in your honor. The same process will repeat for those who go through to the inter-house tournament. Three months of training followed by an inter-house Yule Ball where the victors will make their worldwide debut on their chariots. May the odds be ever in your favor.” With these final words, the minister struts out of the room followed by Dumbledore.
The whole room is quiet before the mentors start whispering to their victors. My mother looks down at both of us, something like regret and pain flashing over her eyes. “We will be meeting every day, at 7 am on the quidditch pitch, you will train and learn all you can before the tournament. Tomorrow parents of the victors will be invited to come see their children, the day after that you are all taken by your mentors into town to get battle wands and meet with stylists. You two are the youngest, the others already have the upper hand, we will be training you as if you would be facing us in that arena. There will be no hand-holding, no soft words, and no going easy on you. If you want to win you will have to learn to fight, fight dirty and fight ruthlessly.” My mother doesn’t even seem to be taking breaths,
“We are going to make you look as small and innocent as possible during the interviews and during the Yule, we want you to seem weak to the others- they shouldn’t even think that you would be threats. If you keep them ignorant it will allow you to kill them easily.” Draco grabs my hand, his mouth is set in a thin line, he is trying not to cry- and to be truthful so am I. We are two unprepared 11-year-olds who will have to face off against children who know more and are stronger than us.
Aunt Andromeda, who has been silent so far, reaches forward stopping my mother’s rant, she takes us by the shoulders. “You will be alright; we are going to make sure of it. I know you must be feeling terribly frightened, that is normal- don’t let it linger, now is the time to start fighting, you will fight until you are in the arena and then you will win.” She says it with so much confidence that I have to believe her.
“We will see the both of you tomorrow, for the family meeting and for training that will follow directly afterwards.” She pauses, a brief look of hesitation flashes across her face. My mother places a hand on my shoulder, it is soft and comforting- it is nothing like what I imagined it to be when I was younger. She turns her gaze to focus solely on mine. “I…” she stops, shaking her head. “Good luck.”
She turns and all but saunters out of the room, I watch her go- I cannot help but feel a sense of rejection, the sting of her not even acknowledging me.
“She means well,” Aunt Andromeda voices from behind me.
I hum, unconvinced, “I’m sure she does.” My voice comes out far harsher than I would have preferred. I turn to my aunt, my face softening as I take a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I know its not you.”
She smiles, sympathetic, but still a smile. “She’s just worried, she cares.” She places a soft hand upon my shoulder.
I nod still silent, perhaps it would have been easier to believe if I did not know her, if I had not known our family, I wish McGonagall’s words could mean more in this moment. I know what she did, what she sacrificed for me and yet here when she had the opportunity to show me even an ounce of kindness of love or care, she refuses me.
She hadn’t even looked at me for more than a moment, and still, with the hurt and the rejection I feel- I cannot help but understand.my mother and her sister had competed in the same games, they know better than most how horrible it is going to be. perhaps she is simply trying to make peace with the fact that the child she only just now met again after years apart, will likely die at the hands of other children. A first-year, unexperienced daughter who has only ever been taught spells in theory.
“I-“ I hesitate, “I know,” I answer softly. Because even when I try to persuade myself that I don’t, I do. I understand and I know.
She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Good, I’ll see the both of you tomorrow, stay safe.” She doesn’t give us time to respond before she too goes barrelling through the crowded room and out the door.
I turn to Draco, linking my arm through his as I pull him to leave the room. “What are we going to do?” for a moment the fearful whisper is more than enough to make me stop in my tracks, my heart beats a little faster- that is a fair question; what are we going to do?
“I- I don’t-“ I shake my head taking a shuddering breath. “We are going to live.” I say firmly. And for a moment I allow myself to believe it, I allow myself to forget that everyone is stronger and older, I allow myself to forget that it will likely only end in death for us, I allow myself to forget that if it comes down to it, Draco will live, I’ll make sure of it. I allow myself a blissful moment of hope. I let myself think that perhaps we could live, we could win, we could survive.
Draco grasps at my arm a little tighter, I would normally tear myself free from such an embrace, but it might me one of the last times I am able to hold onto my cousin- my brother in all but name. I allow myself a moment to remember this, the feeling of someone holding on too tightly because they fear they will never be able to hold onto me again.
Tonight, we mourn, tomorrow we fight.