Chapter 38
Mr. Weasley woke us up after a mere few hours of sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing by Roberts at the door to his cottage.
The man had a dazed appearance about him as he waved us off with a vague, “Merry Christmas.”
“He’ll be alright,” Mr. Weasley whispered quietly as we marched off onto the moor. “Sometimes, when a person’s memory’s modified, it makes him disoriented for a while… and that was a big thing they had to make him forget.”
We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clambering to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. After Mr. Weasley had a quick discussion with Basil, we joined the queue and were able to take a rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because of how exhausted we were while longing for a good breakfast.
Finally, as we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane. “Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!” Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. “Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried-” She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley’s neck, and the Daily Prophet fell from her limp hand toward the ground.
I snatched it up quickly and looked at the front page, only to roll my eyes upon seeing it was written by Rita Skeeter.
SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP! was the headline, followed by a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.
“You're alright,” Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring all around with red eyes. “You're alive… Oh boys…” She quickly seized Fred and George and pulled them into such a tight hug that the two ended up banging their heads together.
“Ouch!” The two exclaimed at once. “Mum - you're strangling us-”
“I shouted at you before you left!” Mrs. Weasley interrupted, starting to sob, “It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.’s?! Oh, Fred… George…”
“Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay,” Mr. Weasley said soothingly, prying her off the twins and leading her back to the house. He glanced back at me, his gaze directed at the paper in my hands.
I followed after him, ready to hand it over once we were inside. When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a cup of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, I handed the man the paper.
“I knew it,” Mr. Weasley said heavily, “Ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running unchecked… national disgrace…”
“What do you expect from Skeeter?” I asked as I sat back in my chair, having grabbed my own copy of the Daily Prophet, “A genuinely good review?”
“That woman’s got it in for the Ministry of Magic!” Percy exclaimed furiously. “Last week she was saying that we were wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness when we should have been stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guideline for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans-”
“Do us a favor, Perce, and shut up,” Bill requested while yawning.
“I'm mentioned,” Mr. Weasley gasped, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.
“Not by name,” I pointed out before turning the paper to check on my stocks, which I would definitely have to change later in the day.
“‘If the terrified witches and wizards who waited breathlessly at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that it wasn't You-Know-Who, but refused to give any more information after a child told everyone to wait for the official debriefing from the Ministry. It did nothing to calm the nerves of the witches and wizards who grew fearful of the rumor that several bodies had been removed from the woods an hour later.’ Oh, really.” Mr. Weasley looked beyond exasperated. “What was I supposed to say?”
“I wouldn't have said anything,” I said honestly as I flipped back to the front page. “It's Madame Bones’ job to debrief the public on matters of our world’s safety.”
The man sighed heavily. “Molly, I'm going to have to go to the office; this is going to take some smoothing over.”
“I'll come with you, Father,” Percy said importantly, “Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person.” He bustled about the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley looked quite upset. “Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?”
“I've got to go, Molly,” Mr. Weasley replied, “I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes, and I'll be off…”
I looked between the two and said calmly, “With that settled, I'll go to Diagon Alley-”
“Oh no, you won't,” Mrs. Weasley said as she forgot trying to get her husband to stay. “Did you just forget what happened at the World Cup?! It's too dangerous!”
“I'll be surrounded by witches and wizards,” I tried debating.
“Absolutely not,” she vetoed.
I sat back in my chair, very dissatisfied with her decision. “How will I get my school supplies?”
She huffed. “I'll get them for you.”
Immediately, I retorted, “I need to check my stocks.”
“That's not a life or death matter,” she tutted.
Bill glanced at Charlie and nudged the man.
Charlie looked at his brother with a long-suffering look, but Bill turned his gaze toward his wounded arm. Charlie rolled his eyes to the ceiling before looking at his mother. “How about I take him?”
“But-”
“I'm not injured like Bill, and I can Apparate us away if any danger arises,” Charlie offered.
Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at her son, clearly trying to get the man to back down.
Mr. Weasley stepped in and said, “It would be safer than to have Colton try to sneak out.”
I was offended that he thought that I would try to sneak out rather than succeed at it.
“Oh, fine,” Mrs. Weasley gave in, “But you must be back by lunchtime.”
“Deal,” I agreed right away as I stood up.
Charlie looked at me with devastation. “But breakfast-”
“I'll buy you something at the Leaky Cauldron,” I stated, having no mercy for the man.
Bill snorted, causing Charlie to kick him underneath the table.
Charlie then stood up and followed after me to the fireplace.
I grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. I stepped into the green flames and announced, “Diagon Alley.” With a whirl, I found myself going through the Floo network before being gently pushed out at Diagon Alley. I brushed my robes off absentmindedly before stepping aside, waiting for Charlie to come out of the Floo that was in the Leaky Cauldron.
The man quickly came from green flames and flicked his wand at his robes, causing the various ashes and dirt smudges to vanish from his clothes. He then flicked his wand at my robes, and he pocketed his wand.
I easily led the man to the Leaky Cauldron’s dining room, and I saw the man stare longingly at the food being served. I rolled my eyes before saying, “Order whatever you want.”
Charlie lit up and he took a seat at the bar, causing me to follow him.
The two of us sat down together, and we both took a menu that Tom offered.
I glanced through it before deciding on a simple breakfast of toast and bacon with a cup of coffee. I set the menu aside and waited as Charlie seemed to debate what he wanted.
The man, after what felt like an eternity, finally set the menu aside and asked for toast with strawberry jam, eggs, sausages, and a cup of coffee.
Tom took down our orders and hurried off to get the order into the kitchen.
I lazily sat back in my seat, and I began to contemplate what I truly wished to accomplish over the rest of the summer. I didn't get very far when I was interrupted.
“Potter, is this seat taken?”
I glanced to my right and saw Nott standing there with a man who looked like he was in his sixties. I motioned to the seat lazily.
Nott quickly sat down and asked, “Are you here alone?”
“No,” I answered before tilting my head to the eavesdropping Weasley. “Neither are you, though.”
“This is my father, Thaddeus Nott,” Nott introduced in a rather tense manner.
I looked at the man, who was clearly looking down his nose at me. “Greetings, sir. As I'm certain you know, my name is Colton Potter.”
“Indeed,” he said.
I looked back at Nott and asked, “Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup?”
“No,” the boy answered.
“I did,” I said, causing the boy to hum.
His eyes flicked to the side for the briefest of moments before looking back at me. “Did you see anything?”
“I do admit that I finally found the appeal in watching Quidditch,” I replied honestly.
Nott’s lips quirked up before he quickly schooled his expression. “Oh?”
“It was enjoyable to watch the teams do their damnedest to win,” I admitted.
“I was hoping that Bulgaria would pull through,” Nott lamented with a sigh.
“If they had a better Keeper, they may have won,” I pointed out.
Nott nodded. “Zograf should have been put into the reserve position ages ago.”
“Krum was surprisingly decent considering he's still in school,” I said, “He's even more gifted than my brother.”
Nott nodded in approval before asking, “Did anything else happen?”
“The Bulgarian Minister of Magic has a decent sense of humor,” I said as I forced myself to keep a smirk from my face. “He pretended to not know English, making Minister Fudge mime everything out.”
Nott smirked for a mere moment before asking, “Anything else?”
I pondered his words for a moment before saying honestly, “I saw the Dark Lord's Mark in the sky, but so did every other witch and wizard.”
Nott looked a bit apprehensive as he said, “There's a rumor circulating that you saw who cast it.”
“Is that so?” I asked as I kept my gaze on the other Slytherin who was clearly being ordered to pry answers out of me.
Nott was tense as he sat with his father still standing behind him. His dark eyes pleaded with me to tell him something - anything - before his father could interfere in a negative fashion.
“I don't know anything more than the fact it was a man,” I lied as I made sure my Occlumency shields were protecting my mind well.
“A man?” Nott prodded, “Not a woman?”
“No,” I denied, “It was definitely a man.”
Nott hummed before asking, “How do you know?”
“Because I heard him speak that spell,” I said honestly. “Besides that, Crouch said no women Death Eaters remained out of Azkaban.”
“Crouch was there?” Nott reiterated in surprise.
“Him, Bagman, Diggory…” I listed off in a bored fashion, “I'm sure I recognized an Auror or two in the crowd as well.”
Nott hummed in acknowledgement.
“Did you see that Black was given a hefty restitution from the Ministry?” I asked, shifting the conversation to something more beneficial to me.
Nott nodded once with a furrowed brow.
“I have to imagine he'll use it to curse me in some manner,” I chirped cheerfully. “Who knows how many times I've hexed him, after all?”
Nott rolled his eyes to the heavens as his lips pulled into a smile. He then looked back at me with his usual guarded expression. “I still can't believe you hit the man with the Stinging Jinx more than once.”
“I almost broke a broom over his back, too,” I said with a grin.
“That sounds just like you,” Nott commented.
I shrugged as if I couldn't help myself, which I couldn't. “At least he learned his lesson.”
Nott gave a sarcastic hum, which I couldn't fault him for.
“In any case,” I said as Tom placed my meal before me, “Are you buying your supplies for the upcoming year at Hogwarts?”
“I was getting fitted for dress robes at Madam Malkins,” Nott said, confirming what I had thought.
“I was wondering about those,” I admitted, “Do you think Hogwarts will be having some form of gala this year?”
“I don't know why it would,” Nott said, “But Hogwarts has never followed the trend.”
I chuckled. “No, I suppose it hasn't.”
Nott smiled for a split-second before straightening out. “You should find a partner for the upcoming event.”
“I know,” I said, “I don't want to interfere with any marriage contracts and throw off the power dynamics, though.”
Nott hummed in understanding.
Thaddeus Nott stepped toward his son and put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Immediately, Theodore Nott slid from the chair, his muscles growing tense. “We should get going and let you eat your breakfast.”
“Very well,” I said before looking toward Thaddeus. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sir.”
“Likewise,” the man said, “Don't feel afraid to tell me if my son takes a single step out of line.”
I nodded once despite knowing that I truly despised the man and would never tell him what he desired.
Without any more words, the two took their leave, heading to the Apparition point of the Leaky Cauldron.
I calmly began to eat my toast as Tom served Charlie’s breakfast.
“What was that all about?” Charlie asked softly.
“Lord Nott clearly wanted to use his son to pry information out of me,” I explained.
“Why did you give him it?” Charlie grumbled as he eyed me suspiciously.
“Because people become satisfied with half-truths,” I answered.
“No, the real reason,” Charlie said, causing me to look at him with a raised brow. “I want the real reason, and not some half-truth form of it.”
“If I do not give you what you desire, what will you do?” I inquired.
The man slumped down a bit, seemingly defeated. “Well, nothing, I suppose.”
“Then do nothing and allow me to keep my secrets,” I said as I turned my focus back to my toast.
Charlie pursed his lips for a moment before turning to his own breakfast. Like a child, he brooded as he ate his meal.
I rolled my eyes, but did nothing more on the matter as I worked my way through the toast and bacon. Eventually, I finished my meal and sat back as Charlie devoured his like it was going out of style. Once he was finished, I paid for both of our meals, and we headed off into Diagon Alley.
Charlie followed behind me like some kind of lost puppy as we went to Gringotts. Occasionally, he'd stop and look at a window display for a second before quickly following after me once more.
In any case, we were bowed into Gringotts by two goblins. We waited patiently for a goblin at the counter to be free before heading over.
“I would like to check my stocks before heading down to my trust vault,” I said as I produced my key and gave it to the goblin.
The creature glanced down at it lazily before saying, “Griphook will be just a moment.”
I nodded and stood aside with Charlie after getting my key back.
“So, you really have stocks?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, I really have stocks,” I confirmed.
“Isn't that boring?” He questioned.
“There's nothing boring about my future financial security,” I stated.
He hummed before asking, “What do you want to do in the future?”
“I don't particularly have a plan,” I admitted.
“You seemed like the type of kid that has his entire future planned out,” Charlie mused aloud.
“I've found certain elements of the future to be unpredictable,” I said with a minor frown. “I don't see a point in planning out my future if things will be beyond my control.”
“Certain elements?” He repeated curiously.
I nodded once, not elaborating my words further as Griphook appeared from a hallway. I quickly went to the goblin, and Charlie followed behind me with a frown.
“Follow me, Mr. Potter,” Griphook demanded as he turned heel and began to walk around.
I did as ordered, and Charlie hesitantly followed after us.
As usual, the room where all the stocks were looked through was almost void of witches and wizards. It was truly sad to see that the wizarding world wasn't as invested in their futures as they should have been.
“As usual, donate to Hogwarts enough for the tax write-off,” I said as I observed the stocks that were always changing in some way or another. “I want to sell the Sneakoscope stock now. There's no point in having it when it isn't making a profit anymore.”
Griphook barked something in Gobbledygook at another goblin, who nodded and began walking off toward another group of goblins.
“Now, this year something is happening at Hogwarts, something that the Ministry is involved in,” I said, causing Charlie to openly cringe. “I believe that news of what's going on will be covered. Buy a few stocks for the Daily Prophet.”
“Are you sure something so temporary is wise to invest in?” Griphook asked with a raised brow.
I gave a dark chuckle as I kept my gaze at the board, knowing that the Dark Lord would be using whatever was happening to shield himself from any bad press. “I have a few plans should things not work out.”
Griphook’s other brow raised before he dismissed his interest in my words.
“Oh, yes,” I said as I turned to Griphook. “Is there anything that a wizard should hypothetically know before beginning the process of gaining Lordship?”
“Lordship?” Griphook repeated in surprise.
“The second I become an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world, I want to become Lord Potter,” I informed the goblin, ignoring how Charlie began to sputter behind me.
“That's a lofty goal,” Griphook commented with slightly narrowed eyes.
“I’m sure the spite I feel will guide me properly,” I assured the overseer of the Potter vaults.
For just a split-second, the goblin’s lips curled up. “Very well. I suggest memorizing several laws, learning the customs of the older generations, and looking through modern court cases.”
“I shall do as you advise,” I said with a bow of my head.
Griphook merely grunted before asking, “Are you satisfied here?”
“I am,” I confirmed, “I have to stop at the trust vault now.”
“Very well,” Griphook said as he began to walk off.
I followed after the goblin, and Charlie followed while looking quite contemplative.
As we all got into the cart that would take us to the trust vault Harry and I shared, Charlie turned to me and asked, “Are you actually interested in the Wizengamot, or are you doing this to spite Lucius Malfoy?”
My lips curled up into a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I'm doing this to spite just Lucius Malfoy.”
The man’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who else would you want to spite?”
“Now that would be telling,” I said as my smirk grew.
The man seemed disappointed, but he didn't press for more answers.
We finally made it down to my shared trust vault, and I took out a decent amount of gold. With that, we were done at Gringotts and went on our way.
First, I went to Madam Malkins to get fitted for dress robes of black with silver and green accents. Then, I ordered a few new robes for the sake of being presentable whenever something interesting happened at Hogwarts. With the order in the process of being made, I quickly went to Flourish and Blotts for my necessary course books and some books on laws, older customs, and famous court cases throughout the years. With that done, I got a whole new potions kit because mine was almost completely gone. I then headed out to get more parchment, quills, and inkwells. Next, I went to a store that sold trunks and dropped off my special order, much to the confusion of Charlie. Finally, I went back to Madam Malkins and picked up my new robes for the year.
With all that done and most of the morning passed, Charlie and I returned to the Burrow.
Immediately, Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the kitchen. “Were you safe?”
“Yes, we were safe,” Charlie said in a long-suffering manner.
“Indeed,” I confirmed before saying, “I'm going to drop these off in my room.”
Mrs. Weasley nodded, a clear dismissal as she motioned for her son to come over.
I quickly headed toward the stairs with my bags and headed up to the bedroom I had been occupying. I quickly organized my trunk for the year before once again practicing my wordless and wandless magic with a quill I had bought. I managed to make the quill float a few inches above the desk, but nothing more as we were all called down to the kitchen for lunch. Lunch was a quiet affair, and I slipped off to the bedroom right afterwards.
For the next week, I kept practicing my magic while also reading about certain spell etymologies.
For that same week, neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy were at home much. Both left the house before most of the occupants rose and returned well after dinner every night.
“It's been an absolute uproar,” Percy told us importantly the Sunday evening before we were due to return to Hogwarts. “I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders.”
“Why are they sending Howlers?” Ginny inquired while mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.
“Complaining about security at the World Cup,” Percy explained, “They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher’s put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with ensuite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks.”
Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.
It was a unique clock that had nine golden hands, one for each Weasley, and lists of places/situations instead of numbers. Eight of the nine hands engraved with names were pointed at “home,” but Mr. Weasley’s was still pointed at “work.”
Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who. They're working him far too hard. His dinner’s going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon.”
“Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?” Percy asked before saying rather foolishly, “If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first-”
“Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!” Mrs. Weasley flared up at once.
“If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented,” Bill, who was playing chess with Ron, input, “Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts Charm breakers once, and called me ‘a long-haired pillock’?”
“Well, it is a bit long, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said gently, “If you'd just let me-”
“No, Mum,” Bill interrupted firmly.
Rain lashed against the living room window.
Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.
Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava.
Harry was polishing his Firebolt.
Fred and George, meanwhile, were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.
“What are you two up to?” Mrs. Weasley demanded to know sharply, her eyes on the twins nearest me.
“Homework,” Fred said vaguely.
“Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday,” Mrs. Weasley said.
“Yeah, we've left it a bit late,” George said absentmindedly as he wrote something down.
“You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?” Mrs. Wealsey asked shrewdly. “You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, by any chance?”
“Now, Mum,” Fred said as he looked up at his mother with a pained look, “If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”
The others laughed, Mrs. Wealsey included. “Oh, your father's coming!” She suddenly exclaimed eagerly as she looked at the clock’s face yet again.
Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from “work” to traveling; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on “home” with the others, and we heard him calling from the kitchen.
“Coming, Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she rushed out of the living room.
A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted. “Well, the fat’s really in the fire now,” he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. “Rita Skeeter’s been ferreting around all week, looking for Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she’s found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago.”
“Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks,” Percy said swiftly.
“Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky,” Mr. Weasley said irritably, “There'd be a week’s worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark.”
“I thought we were all in agreement that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Dark Mark?” Percy asked hotly.
“If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to his elves!” Hermione piped up.
Percy immediately turned red in the face. “Now look here, Hermione, a high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserved unswerving obedience from his servants-”
“His slave, you mean!” Hermione interrupted, her voice raising passionately, “because he didn't pay Winky, did he?”
“Hermione,” I interjected, “You don't understand that most house-elves find comfort in living that lifestyle. They don't see it as slavery-”
“They don't know any better,” Hermione argued at once.
“I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!” Mrs. Weasley said, raising her voice to ensure the argument was stopped in its tracks. “Come on now, all of you…”
I immediately got up from my chair and headed for the stairs, not at all interested in further conversing with Hermione on the subject when she was so passionate about their slavery.
She clearly didn't understand that most house-elves needed to have a master to be stabilized. She was ignorant of how house-elves needed their magic controlled in order to live properly. She only had Dobby as reference, and Dobby wasn't exactly a normal house-elf.
I pushed the thoughts from my mind as I entered Charlie's room. I put the book I was reading away, and I pulled out my book on spell etymology. I continued reading well into the night before eventually setting the book aside. I listened to the rain pound on the window, eventually letting it soothe me into a dreamless stupor.
The next morning, a definite end-of-holiday gloom laid across the Burrow. The other students didn't seem to want the break to end.
I ignored their childish thinking, eager to get back to my structured living where I could easily crush my competition. I got changed into an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans, my robes easily accessible for the train ride. I then headed downstairs and gathered my Daily Prophet. I sat down and flipped to the page that held my stock information. I was content after seeing no real change and flipped back to the front page.
Mrs. Weasley, who was busying herself around the kitchen, mumbled something about needing to wake up the others.
That's right about when the fireplace sparked a green hue.
The head of Amos Diggory appeared in the green flames, and he called, “Hello?”
“Greetings, sir,” I said as I set down my paper.
“Is Arthur here?” The wizard asked.
“He’s been working all weekend,” Mrs. Weasley stated at once, clearly upset that her husband would be called upon first thing Monday morning.
“I understand, but it's something urgent that Arthur's department deals with,” Diggory said calmly.
“What could possibly be so important-”
“It's Mad-Eye, and it's bad,” Diggory said gravely.
“As in Mad-Eye Moody?” I inquired with a raised brow.
“Unfortunately,” Diggory agreed with a heavy sigh.
“Do you need a message taken while Mrs. Wealsey gets her husband?” I asked, causing the woman in question to throw her hands in the air in exasperation.
“I'd prefer to speak with Arthur directly about this. Apparently, some muggles called their - what’d-you-call-‘ems - please-men,” Diggory replied as the matriarch of the household went to get her husband.
“Policemen,” I corrected as I went around the kitchen and gathered up an inkwell, a spare piece of parchment, and a crumpled quill, “They're the muggle equivalent of Aurors.”
“Of course they are,” Diggory said with a heavy sigh.
Mr. Wealsey came rushing into the kitchen, his robes on backwards and his glasses askew. “What happened?” He asked as I passed him what he needed.
“Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those policemen. Arthur, you've got to get over there to Mad-Eye’s,” Diggory said urgently as I returned to my seat. “It's a real stroke of luck I heard about it. I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets a hold of this one, Arthur-”
“What does Mad-Eye say happened?” Mr. Wealsey asked as he dipped his quill into the bottle of ink, preparing to take notes.
Diggory rolled his eyes. “Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins.”
“What did the dustbins do?” Mr. Weasley asked as he scribbled frantically.
“Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell,” Diggory answered, “Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the policemen showed up-”
Mr. Weasley groaned. “And what about the intruder?”
“Arthur, you know Mad-Eye,” Diggory said while rolling his eyes again. “Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it - think of his record - we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department - what are exploding dustbins worth?”
“Might be a caution,” Mr. Weasley answered as he continued to write rapidly, his brow furrowed. “Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?”
“I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window,” Diggory replied, “But they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties.”
“Alright, I'm off,” Mr. Wealsey said, and he shoved his notes into his pockets and dashed off from the kitchen.
Diggory looked toward Mrs. Wealsey, who was less than happy with the head in the hearth. “Sorry about this, Molly, bothering you so early and everything… but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye’s supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…”
“Never mind, Amos,” Mrs. Wealsey said dismissively, “You won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?”
“Oh go on, then,” Diggory said as if she had truly twisted him into accepting.
Mrs. Wealsey took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it to Diggory’s mouth.
“Fanks,” he said with a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.
Mr. Weasley called hurried goodbyes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way, dragging a comb through his hair. “I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys.” He fastened his cloak over his shoulder as he looked at Fred, George, Ron, Harry, and I as he prepared to Disapparate. “Molly, are you going to be alright taking the kids to King’s Cross?”
“Of course I will,” Mrs. Weasley assured her husband. “You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine.”
As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie came into the kitchen.
“Did someone say Mad-Eye?” Bill inquired. “What's he been up to now?”
“He says someone tried to break into his house last night,” Mrs. Weasley answered.
“Mad-Eye Moody?” George asked thoughtfully as he spread his marmalade on his toast. “Isn't he that nutter-”
“Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody,” Mrs. Weasley said sternly.
“Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?” Fred grumbled quietly as his mother left the room. “Birds of a feather…”
“Moody was a great wizard in his time,” Bill chided.
“He’s an old friend of Dumbledore’s, isn't he?” Charlie asked.
“Dumbledore’s not what you'd call normal, though, is he?” Fred pointed out, “I mean, I know he's a genius and everything…”
“Who is Mad-Eye?” Harry interjected.
“He's retired, used to work for the Ministry,” Charlie explained, “I met him once when Dad took me in to work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best.”
“A Dark wizard catcher,” I added in, knowing that blank stare from Harry meant that he had no idea what an Auror was.
“Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though… the families of people he caught, mainly… and I heard he'd getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore,” Charlie divulged to us, “Sees Dark wizards everywhere.”
I merely folded up my paper and finally helped myself to some toast.
Harry turned to me and asked, “Do you know more about Mad-Eye?”
“I haven't met him, so I can't accurately describe him,” I stated.
My brother pouted a bit.
I ignored him as I ate my breakfast.
Soon enough, it was time to head off to King’s Cross station.
Bill and Charlie decided that they'd join us at the platform, but Percy didn't.
“I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment,” Percy told us, “Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me.”
“We understand, but don't take on more than you can handle,” I advised, only to be waved off by Percy.
“I can handle anything he has to give me,” the man said confidently.
I doubted that, but I didn't say such a thing out loud. Instead, I brought my trunk downstairs before helping the others get their trunks downstairs. Then, I went with Mrs. Wealsey into the muggle village in order to call a taxi service. I stopped at the post office and borrowed their telephone, casually using it as Mrs. Weasley shuffled about nervously. Once I was done ordering three taxis to take us Weasleys to London, we returned to the Burrow.
From there, we waited for the three taxis to show up and have our seven Hogwarts trunks into their cars, all while listening to Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, make an ear-splitting racket.
Of course, Crookshanks didn't help, frequently trying to get underfoot to keep out of the rain.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat in one taxi with their trunks and pets. Fred, George, Ginny, and I sat in the second taxi with two out of the four remaining trunks. That left Mrs. Wealsey, Bill, and Charlie in the third taxi with the last two trunks.
I waited until the taxi driver began to pull out of the yard to turn toward Fred and George. “I made that specialty order that should be arriving at school tomorrow.”
“How will it get there?” Fred asked with a furrowed brow.
“It’ll be small and delivered by the usual mail,” I said vaguely. “I ordered and paid for it, but it'll be delivered to you two.”
Fred seemed to want more answers, but I subtly jabbed my thumb toward the taxi’s front where the ignorant muggle was sitting. Immediately, the older boy nodded and sat back.
“Ginny, you won’t tell your mother about this, right?” I asked as I looked down at my book in boredom.
“And miss some good pranks?” She shook her head while saying, “Never.”
“That's our favorite sister,” Fred and George said with wide grins.
Ginny rolled her eyes with a small grin.
I felt my lips tug up a bit as I continued to stare down at my book.
“Oh, yeah,” George said suddenly. “You know how to duplicate order forms, right?”
“I'll teach you a few tricks at school,” I assured him and his brother.
He nodded eagerly.
“Speaking of school, you did get all of your homework done, right?” I asked.
“We got it done ages ago,” Fred said, “We were trying to remember what order form had what.”
I smirked as I said, “I figured.”
“Are you going to be dominating your classes again?” Ginny asked teasingly.
“Someone needs to have the highest grades, and I'm not giving that honor over to anyone,” I tutted as if it should have been obvious, which it really should have.
The other three have good-natured laughs.
A comfortable silence then fell around us, only broken by little games and jokes that wouldn't expose the wizarding world. We had a nice time until we reached King’s Cross, where it turned into a soaking wet mess of unloading trunks from the cabs and madly rushing said trunks into the train station in a lame attempt to get dryer in a faster fashion.
It was there where I split off from the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione, going up to the usual train car where the Slytherins sat. I easily lifted up my trunk onto the train and meandered to my usual compartment. I shoved my trunk overhead before I sat down by the window as usual.
The other three were already there, seemingly waiting for me.
“Potter,” Greengrass said from where she was sitting, “There will be a ball at Hogwarts this year.”
“I figured it was something along those lines,” I said honestly, “That, and the Ministry is involved in it.”
“My point is that we will likely have to have a partner,” Greengrass said flatly.
“Yes, but I also don't know who has marriage contracts with who. I don't want to step into that mess until I have to,” I admitted.
“The half-bloods, for the most part, don't have any marriage contracts,” Davis said as she looked down at her nails in boredom.
I hummed softly before looking out the window. “I'll wait and see where things fall.”
“What do you mean?” Davis asked curiously.
“Something is happening at Hogwarts that the Ministry is involved in,” I said, “I don't know all the details, but I do know that others outside of Hogwarts will attend. I need to see how these others interact with each other before I make any decisions.”
“You want to see if you could get a date from somewhere else?” Davis asked with a raised brow.
“Merlin, no,” I replied honestly, “But I do want to see all the options after the ball is announced.”
Zabini hummed in acknowledgement before finally saying, “Not that you haven't thought of this, but I would prepare for people trying to get to your brother through you.”
I bit back an annoyed scowl, instead nodding as I continued to gaze out at the multiple people on the platform. I then paused before narrowing my eyes at the man who appeared to have just arrived after a muggle punk concert that was harassing my brother. I bit back a groan as I realized just who the man making a commotion with my brother was. “I'll be right back,” I grumbled as I stood up, “I need to go curse my brother’s bloody godfather.”
Davis let out a bark of laughter as I left the compartment behind.
I ran my hands down face as I walked to the stairs before getting off the train. I then began to approach Black while drawing my wand.
“Hey, Potter,” Parkinson called as she smirked besides Lily Moon and Rachelle Runcorn, “Try not to curse him too hard.”
“I shall make no promises,” I said before continuing on toward Black, ignoring how the three snickered to each other.
Draco Malfoy was standing nearby, and he took one look at my face before saying, “I'm getting on the train now, Mother.”
Lady Malfoy looked down at her son in confusion. “But your father-”
I spotted said father sneering at Sirius, so I sent a very subtle Bee-Sting Jinx at his right foot.
As Lord Malfoy cursed softly while jolting, causing his family to look at him with wide eyes, I narrowed my eyes at Sirius’s back.
The man suddenly yelped as jolted away from Harry. He whipped around and yelled, “Colton, you little brat, I know that was you!”
I stuck my wand in my back pocket as I came from the crowd. “I am neither little, nor a brat.”
The Black scowled as he said, “You need to stop greeting me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked as innocently as I could.
“Like I'm falling for that!” Sirius exclaimed, “You jinxed me!”
“I did?” I asked in mock surprise.
“I'll prove it,” he said confidently, “Give me your wand.” I handed it over, and he pointed the end of his wand at the top of mine. He looked flabbergasted as it showed to be the Bee-Sting Jinx instead of the very closely related Stinging Jinx.
“See? I didn't do anything to you,” I said as I took my wand back and flicked it at the dark smoke, causing it to disappear.
Instead of buying what I was selling, he looked downright mortified. “Colton, you-”
The train’s whistle cut him off.
Cheerfully, I said, “Well, have a good year.” I then merrily went back to my train car and climbed on, returning to my compartment where Malfoy was waiting.
“Potter, please tell me that you didn't actually Jinx my father,” Malfoy pleaded.
I gave a grin as I said, “It's not my fault he left himself open.”
“Merlin's beard, Potter,” Malfoy groaned as he ran his hands down his face. “Mother looked ready to strangle Father.”
I tutted. “If your father wants sympathy, he should find it in the dictionary. It's between shit and syphilis.”
Nott gave a bark of laughter as he lingered outside of his compartment. “Potter has a point, you know.”
Malfoy only sighed heavily before entering his own compartment.
I, meanwhile, turned to Nott, my grin amusement dying at once. “I didn't get you in trouble, did I?”
“No,” Nott said before hesitating a bit. Finally, he straightened up and said, “Potter, try to keep your head down this year.”
“I have no intentions of being involved in whatever the Ministry has planned for Hogwarts,” I assured the boy.
He shook his head before glancing around warily. He then tugged me into an empty compartment and closed the door tightly. “I'm sure you heard the news about Lestrange.”
I hummed in acknowledgement despite the sinking feeling in my gut.
“Lestrange wasn't framed for murder like Black was. He's a genuine Death Eater, and, well, with the Triwizard Tournament happening at Hogwarts, I'm worried that you could be in trouble,” Nott revealed to me.
“Because the headmaster of Durmstrang was a Death Eater himself, or because I killed a part of the Dark Lord?” I inquired with a raised brow.
“Because Lestrange has likely found the Dark Lord,” Nott said softly, “He basically worshiped the ground the Dark Lord walked on, and, well…” Nott flushed a bit before admitting, “I'm worried that you'll somehow get involved and end up getting in over your head.”
“Nott, have you heard of Occlumency?” I asked.
The boy looked at me in confusion. “Why?”
“You need to learn it to keep your mind safe,” I said, “If you even think about worrying for me, it could lead to disastrous consequences for you. I don't want that to happen to you, or any other Slytherin for that matter. I'll teach you a trick or two, but keep it a secret for now.”
“You know that something is happening, don't you?” Nott asked gravely.
“Harry has visions from the Dark Lord,” I explained somberly, “I've been keeping an eye on them with the use of Legilimency, but I do know that the Dark Lord has two followers right now that are doing his bidding - one being Lestrange, and the other I don't know about. In either case, he's trying to return to his former glory.”
Nott paled rapidly. “You mean, he's going to return soon?”
“I don't know when,” I said honestly, “I just know that Hogwarts will be the safest space now, even with the Triwizard Tournament going on.”
Nott looked very grim as he looked toward the floor.
I rested my hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, causing him to look at me in confusion. “I don't trust your father, so don't tell him that you're trying to learn Occlumency.”
He snorted. “Potter, I wouldn't have told that bastard either way.”
I smiled gently. “I won't ever sell you out to him ever again.”
He nodded once, looking just a bit less tense.
“Now, do you want to start learning Occlumency?” I asked.
Nott pondered it for a moment before nodding. “I should.”
I released his shoulder before sitting down, causing the boy to sit down across from me. “In order to properly protect your mind, it's wise to be calm. Before we even begin in Occlumency, I'm going to teach you some breathing exercises.”
Nott nodded in approval as he straightened up.
I taught him the breathing exercises that the Dark Lord in my mind showed me. Once we finished going through them, I said, “Good. Now, I'm going to invade your mind as gently as I can, but you will feel a pinch.”
Nott tensed up a bit before relaxing himself on command. “Why are you going to invade my mind? You haven't taught me how to protect it yet.”
“Because I know you are smart enough to recognize how our magic reacts,” I admitted, “You'll be able to learn better by trying to force me out, and you'll even be able to build up defenses after that.”
Nott nodded once, still looking a bit apprehensive.
“I won't use anything in your mind against you,” I assured him before asking, “Are you ready?”
He performed a breathing exercise I taught him before looking at me with determination clear in his eyes. “I'm ready.”
I watched the boy flinch a bit as I used my magic to invade his mind. I immediately said, “Practice your calming exercises, and don't maintain eye-contact. It's easier to read your mind when you're looking directly into my eyes. Stare down at my neck if you have to.”
Nott quickly averted his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose.
“Good,” I approved, “Now, can you feel my presence in your mind?”
“Not really,” Nott said with a slightly furrowed brow, “I felt the pinch, but afterwards, it's like you're not there.”
I hummed before I decided to begin looking through a few memories that appeared to be casual in nature.
Nott’s brow furrowed before he immediately paled. “Wait.”
I immediately released my hold on the magic in his mind, severing the connection between us.
For a moment, there was a tense silence between us.
Then, Nott took in a shaky breath before looking at me again. “Is there any way for you to not look through those memories?”
“I don't really have that much control on it,” I admitted with a grimace. “If your surface-level thoughts are like that, then it's what I'll see.”
Nott nodded with a stoic face. “I’ll work on breathing exercises for now.”
“Alright,” I said, “When you're ready to continue, just tell me.”
He nodded once, and I dismissed myself from the compartment.
I returned to my compartment, and I pulled out a quill. I then sat it down in my lap and continued to practice wordlessly and wandlessly making it float.
“Merlin’s beard, Colton,” Davis groaned, causing my concentration to break. “You're trying to make us all look bad.”
“What?” I asked in pure confusion as the feather floated back down to my lap.
“That!” She exclaimed while motioning to my feather. “We look lazy compared to you!”
“Oh, that,” I waved off dismissively, “I wanted to practice, and so I have.”
“Why would you want to practice so early on?” Zabini asked with a look that held both curiosity and caution.
“It's practical, and I don't like that my wand will have the Trace on it for another few years,” I explained honestly.
Greengrass raised an eyebrow. “You don't intend to do something dangerous, do you?”
“Not intentionally,” I assured the girl.
She gave a short hum, one that clearly indicated her doubts in me.
I ignored her response and returned to my practice.
For the next few hours, our compartment wasn't disturbed.
Of course, that ended when Malfoy came into the compartment while looking at me pleadingly. “You do know what’s happening at Hogwarts, right?”
I blinked once before asking, “You mean the Triwizard Tournament?”
“So Weasley does know,” Malfoy said angrily.
“He doesn't,” I corrected, “Neither his father nor older brother told him.”
“Then how do you know?” Malfoy asked.
“Nott mentioned the name, and I figured out the rest,” I replied honestly.
“Will you enter?” Malfoy followed up.
“And get distracted from my studies?” I replied while looking at Malfoy with nothing short of exasperation.
“I should have expected that,” Malfoy realized aloud with a sigh.
I barely bit back a snort before deciding I had enough practice with my magic for the day. I set the quill aside and leaned back in my seat. “You wouldn't mind if I became the Slytherin Prefect next year, would you?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You honestly think I'm stupid enough to get between you and your grades?”
I chuckled before saying, “No. I was merely asking if you minded. I know your father is an arse about your grades.”
“I don't mind,” he assured me.
“Good,” I approved before standing up. “I'm getting changed into my robes now.” I took my robes, allowing Malfoy to slide in and take my spot for a moment while I went to the restroom. When I returned, Malfoy had left. I pulled out my book on spell etymology and continued to read over the words, ignoring the interest that the other three had in my ancient tome.
Finally, the Hogwarts Express pulled up at Hogsmeade’s platform. The clouds above poured down buckets of water, drenching the earth below.
I made sure that my books and such were secured in the trunk before heading out into the rain.
“I would hate to be a first-year,” Davis commented as she glanced toward the shivering eleven-year-olds slowly gathering around Hagrid.
“As would I,” I said before making it to the carriages that took us to Hogwarts directly.
The four of us comfortably sat in silence as the Thestrals struggled through the pouring rain to pull us up to Hogwarts. Once we were there, we left the carriage behind and headed inside, where Peeves thought it'd be funny to send a water balloon toward my face.
I was quick to make a shield around myself, and the water balloon bounced off it. Before it could hit the ground, however, I quickly flicked my wand at it, causing the water balloon to float up before firing itself at Peeves.
The poltergeist shrieked as it got soaked with its own weapon of choice.
I cackled softly before asking, “Would you like to try again, Peeves? I could show you another trick or two.”
“You’re definitely a Dark Wizard for hurting poor little me!” Peeves accused as if it were some delicate maiden.
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow before saying gleefully, “That isn't even a fraction of my abilities.” Then, without using my wand, I sent a Bee-Sting Jinx right at his nose, causing the creature to wail loudly in pain and drop the rest of his water balloons.
“Peeves!” McGonagall barked loudly as she came rushing into the Entrance Hall, only to slip and nearly fall on her face.
I quickly snapped my wand at McGonagall, stabilizing her before she could actually fall.
“It's his fault!” Peeves yelled as he motioned wildly to me with his left hand, his right covering his swelling nose.
I made sure my eyes weren't red as I replied, “That poltergeist is just upset I sent his water balloon back at him.”
“Liar!” Peeves shrieked before looking at the other Slytherins that were gathering. “You saw him-”
“We didn't see a thing,” Higgs said casually, “Did we Pucey?”
“We just arrived,” Pucey lied with a straight face.
“Peeves is soaked from his own water balloon,” Greengrass said, “Which is all we saw.”
Peeves looked incredibly flustered as he puffed up. “You - I'll-”
“Peeves!” The Bloody Baron barked as he floated into the Entrance Hall from the dungeons.
Peeves swallowed thickly before saying, “Well, I'll let it slide this time.” It then zoomed off as fast as it could.
I internally cackled as I waved my wand at the floor, drying it so that I wouldn't slip on my way to the Great Hall. I then headed to my usual seat, quite content at the moment. I glanced at the table all the professors sat at, and I was somewhat annoyed that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wasn't even there. I dried myself off quickly before sitting down, ready to eat my fill after a long day of studying.
Of course, the Sorting had to be done before the start-of-term feast.
The doors to the Great Hall opened, and McGonagall led the new first-years in a straight line for everyone to see. Once they were all in proper position, she set down the customary stool and hat, awaiting for the magical object to spring to life and do its usual thing.
“A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sown,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known;
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan,
To educate young sorcerers
This Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own House, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuffs, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
Whilst still alive they did divide
Their favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
‘Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders out some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never been wrong yet,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell you where you belong!”
The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.
McGonagall unrolled a large piece of parchment before saying, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.” Without any pause she called, “Ackerly, Stewart!”
A boy walked forward, trembling as though he was scared to death of a mere hat. He sat down and placed the hat upon his head.
“RAVENCLAW!”
Ackerly took the hat off and hurried into a seat at the table, where everyone in the Ravenclaw House was applauding.
“Baddock, Malcolm!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
The young boy was greeted by a loud round of applause from Slytherin as he eagerly came over.
“Branstone, Eleanor!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Cauldwell, Owen!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Creevey, Dennis!”
A small boy, even more soaked than the other first-years, tripped over Hagrid’s moleskin just as Hagrid entered the Great Hall from a door behind the teachers’ table. The boy quickly recovered, and he sat down on the stool and placed the hat upon his head.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Dobbs, Emma!”
Malfoy nudged me, causing me to glance over at the boy. With a snide smirk, he asked, “Did you hear that mudblood fell into the lake?”
“Ah, that's why he's so soaked,” I mused aloud before looking at Malfoy. “The older Creevey is that kid that follows my brother around, so they're likely siblings that find this to be very enchanting.”
Malfoy exhaled through his nose in amusement.
“Madley, Laura!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“McDonald, Natalie!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Pritchard, Graham!”
“SLYTHERIN!”
“Quirke, Orla!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
“Whitby, Kevin!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Finally, the Sorting ended, and the hat and stool were taken away by McGonagall.
At that time, Dumbledore stood up while smiling, his arms open wide to the crowd of students. “I only have two words to say to you; Tuck in.”
“Hear, hear!” Harry and Ron yelled eagerly as the golden plates filled with food.
I barely held back from rolling my eyes before I loaded my plate with food. I ate in silence as I hoped that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was actually competent instead of a repeat of Quirrell or, Merlin forbid it, Lockhart.
The newest professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't show up as dinner and dessert were served and eventually finished.
Dumbledore stood up as the last of the food disappeared from the plates, smiling all around as if fond of his students. As the chatter disappeared almost at once, he said, “So! Now that we're all fed and watered, I must ask once more for your attention, while I give out a few notices.”
I barely bit back a groan of annoyance, wanting to get back to my personal studies again.
“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been expanded to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerages. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.” The corner's of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, and he continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounda to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”
“What?!” Several Quidditch players from various houses yelled angrily, looking downright mutinous at the thought of not being allowed to play Quidditch.
“Good thing Flint isn't here,” I murmured, knowing that Dumbledore would have been hexed by the former captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team.
“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy - but I assure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-”
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors to the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Everyone in the Great Hall turned their heads to look at the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table. His one leg, a prosthetic of sorts, gave a dull noise with each step he took with it. As he reached the table where Dumbledore was standing, he headed toward the man.
Lightning flashed again, revealing his features in a horrible sharp relief.
Every inch of skin was carved from a chiseled face. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk was missing from his nose. His eyes were the most outstanding part of him though. His one was small, dark, and beady while the other, a vivid, electric-blue one, was large and coin-like. The blue eye swiveled around independently from the other, roaming around up and down, and side to side, taking in everything it could. The eye then rolled right over, looking in the opposite direction, causing only white to be seen on the obvious magical device.
Dumbledore smiled merrily as the stranger reached for him with a hand scarred just as badly as the face. He shook the hand, mumbling something that no one else could overhear.
The unknown man shook his head, unsmiling, and replied in an undertone.
Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to an empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his dark mane of hair from his face, and pulled a plate of sausages toward himself. He raised what was left of his nose and sniffed it cautiously with what remained of his nose. He took a small pocket knife from his pocket and speared a sausage on it, and began to eat it as if he expected it to be poisoned or something similar. Though his normal eye remained on the sausage, his blue eye darted around the hall cautiously.
“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore asked into the silence. “Professor Moody.”
It was usual for the new staff members to be treated to a round of applause, but none of the staff or students, save Dumbledore and Hagrid, clapped for the man, though they quickly stopped when realizing that no one else would.
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a flask, and took a long swig from it. As he raised his arm, his cloak lifted, revealing his wooden leg in much greater detail.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event that has not been held for over a century. It's my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”
“You're JOKING!” Fred yelled loud enough to be heard by the entire hall.
Nearly everyone laughed, clearly expecting it to be a joke that was told by the headmaster.
Dumbledore, too, chuckled before saying, “I am not joking, Mr. Wealsey, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…”
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
“Er - but maybe this is not the time… no…” Dumbledore said as he refused to look back at McGonagall, who was giving a disapproving expression still. “Where was I? Ah, yes. The Triwizard Tournament… Well, some of you know not what this tournament involves, so I hope that those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions completed three magical tasks. The schools took in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”
I ignored the happy and eager whispering, already dreading the year because it would be Harry’s luck to get involved with this sort of shit. I knew that my brother would likely be a champion of the school unless special rules were implemented.
“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been very successful,” the old man continued, “However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.
“The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”
Several students began to eagerly chat about the prize money and glory of it all, but I did not. I was eagerly thinking about how everyone would be distracted, leaving me able to easily snatch the top scores of the fourth-year students.
“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said over the loud chatter, “The Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students that are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This-” Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, as several students made noises of outrage, especially in Gryffindor. “-is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.”
I silently have a sigh of relief, glad that Harry wouldn't be getting himself in trouble this year.
“I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen,” Dumbledore stated, “The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” He sat down again and turned to Moody.
There was the loud scraping and banging as students got to their feet and began to leave the Great Hall in a giant swarm.
As I casually meandered down to the common room, I noticed that Malfoy was glowering. “Look at the bright side, Malfoy-”
“What bright side?!” Malfoy exclaimed loudly, “I could have gotten that Cup if it weren't for that stupid old man!”
“The bright side is that Harry won't be able to participate and possibly get the cup, either,” I stated.
The boy paused before begrudgingly saying, “That's acceptable, I suppose.”
I barely bit back a bark of laughter as we walked through the dungeons and came to a stop before the closed wall.
Pucey, a sixth year student, came to the wall and said, “Salazar.”
The wall opened up, I eagerly headed off toward the dorm room, before being stopped by Pucey clearing his throat.
“Professor Snape, our Head of House, has a few words,” Pucey said.
I begrudgingly turned around and watched the rest of the Slytherin students enter and gaze at Snape in caution.
“This tournament is deadly,” Snape said in an even tone as he basically glared at us students. “If you are underage and try to hoodwink the impartial judge or get an older student to do such for you, there will be grave consequences.”
Understanding that Snape would rip us brand new assholes, we underage students collectively said, “Yes, sir.”
He nodded once before taking his leave.
Satisfied with how I was free from responsibility for the rest of the night, I turned heel and headed off to the dorm room, where I got ready for the next day before allowing myself a night of rest.