Tragedy avoided

Dumbledore had announced that this would be the last chapter they read before dinner and then bed. Harri was glad they would be ending the day. She wanted to apologize to Cedric again over her mishap and make sure they were okay. She hated the idea that he was upset with her. He had been nothing but kind and understanding since they had entered this room. 

Cedric sighed as Harri leaned further into him. Since Fred had lashed out at him, Harri had gradually inched away from Fred each time the other boy tried to initiate contact with her. While he appreciated that Harri was upset with the boy on his behalf, he wished for his personal space back. While under normal circumstances he would have no issue with the fact Harri was basically sitting in his lap right now and if she scooted any closer to him she would be on top of him. He enjoyed most forms of physical contact and had never shied away from it from Harri, but he couldn’t stop the way his heart hammered in his chest with how close she was. He knew it was an issue and he needed to learn to control these feelings if he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Harri but no matter how hard he tried to ignore them they refused to leave. If it wasn’t for how obvious it was Fred's temper was mounting because of Harri’s proximity to him and her refusal to even acknowledge the other boy, Cedric would have simply asked her to move. He couldn’t bring himself to allow the opportunity to make Fred feel even a fraction of the hurt he felt right now pass up. While the books did a wonderful job of shoving it in everyone’s face’s that Fred had used every opportunity given to him to get closer to Harri and was more than likely the one who would win the young witch’s heart it was nice to see the doubt color Fred’s expression while he watched them. 

Katie Bell had taken the book from Amos more than ready for dinner. There had been far too many arguments and shouting today for her liking. She bet everyone needed a good night's rest to calm down. 

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"

“Can’t wait to be soaked,” Ron grumbled under his breath.

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harri, just as a second water bomb dropped - narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harri’s feet, sending a wave of cold water over her sneakers into her socks. 

“What the hell.”

“What now?”

“We’re already wet and miserably why do we have to be hit with water balloons too?”

People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Harry looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

The twins didn’t even try to stop their laughter. It was just such a Peeves thing to do. They really loved the Poltergeist. He embodies their spirit.

“Of course it was Peeves,” Ron complained, crossing his arms. He didn’t understand why that rotten Poltergeist was allowed to stay.

McGonagall wrote a note to herself to remember to keep Peeves busy during the feast next year. While the Poltergeist had always lifted the students spirits with his antics in their time of need, he could be a real menace. While she often wished they could expel the little terror from Hogwarts, she had accepted long ago Peeves was part of Hogwarts history. He would exist in its walls long after everyone present was no more than ash. She had grown fond of him somewhere along the years and was glad Dumbledore couldn’t physically make the Poltergeist leave, nobody could. 

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

Hermione winced, thankful she would not be used as a balancing tool by her Professor again. She didn’t understand how Peeves was allowed to continue to cause so much chaos. He could have caused Professor McGonagall serious injury by making the floor even more soaked than they had by tracking in water. 

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

“I don’t know what you thought that was going to work,” Sirius tittered gleefully. “You know Dumbledore’s the only one among the living who can get Peeves to somewhat listen.”

Sirius personally thought Peeves was a riot. He had just effectively made all those students forget how miserable they were. Now they all had a common enemy or could laugh as their peers were pelted. 

Harri Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

The screen shot down showing everyone the trio as they slipped and slid around the entrance hall causing the room to erupt in laughter that lasted far longer than Harri thought was necessary. Harri shifted away from Cedric when his laughter started to make her shake. Sitting between both boys Harri crossed her arms as a pout she would deny later made its way across her face. She didn’t know who controlled this room but mark her words they would pay for constantly humiliating her. She’d see to it personally.

“You think so?” the Voice whispered into her head playfully. “I suppose we’ll have to up the ante then. Just remember you started this.”

Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and ensuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.

"Says who?" said Harri, taking off her sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

Harri frowned at the book. This would be the first time she could actually get to see the Sorting happen and felt as if the weather had ruined it for her. She didn’t seem excited at all to see her new housemates sorted. Where was her house pride?

"Hiya, Harri!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harri was something of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," said Harri warily.

Colin had to admit that it was eye opening to hear Harri’s reactions to him speaking to her. After hearing book two from Harri’s perspective he understood how he had come across as annoying. It was rather upsetting knowing he had pushed the girl so far that she was wary to start a conversation with him.

"Harri, guess what? Guess what, Harri? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

“We get to hear you get sorted,” Colin exclaimed excitedly clutching Dennis’ arm.

“That’s so cool!”

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harri?"

Dennis hoped he was sorted into Gryffindor just like his big brother, but after hearing how brave Harri and her friends were he had his doubts he would be considered brave enough to enter such a house. What if the hat didn’t think he had what it took to be a Gryffindor? Would Colin be disappointed?

"Oh no, not necessarily," said Hermione. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

“We are completely different people with our own set of values,” Padma sniffed, crossing her arms. “The Sorting Hat sorted us based on our vastly different interests and personal values. You’d know that if you bothered to actually talk to either us, instead of just jumping to conclusions based on what little you know about my sister because you refuse to see past the book you keep shoved in your face all year and have decided she’s a dolt because she doesn’t care about school in the same manner you do. She learns differently. That doesn’t mean she isn’t brilliant or has to conform to your ideals of a proper student.”

Hermione flushed and muttered out an apology. She couldn’t even defend herself, she really hadn’t bothered to try to get to know her roommates all that well. They were civil and had bonded over their mutual crush on Lockhart but other than that they didn’t have much in common. Or if Padma was right, Hermione just hadn’t bothered to look further than Parvati’s love for gossip and boys to find a common ground to stand on.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers

Was this the job that he was supposed to be starting, Moody wondered. If it was, it would explain why someone would want to attack him. He would have unrestricted access to Potter during the school year, something he was sure Voldemort supporters would be interested in. 

They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Harri’s favorite by far had been Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. 

“Lupin was the best teacher we had!”

“I  wish he would have broken the curse.”

“There’s no way the next DA teacher even competes!”

Pride swelled within Lupin as the students once again made how much they had liked him known. Even though they all knew what he was now, they all still stood by their opinions on him as a teacher. 

Harri sent Remus a questioning look as she mouthed, “Where are you?” There had been no mention of him so far in this book. It didn’t sound as if he had contacted her at all that summer. Her counterpart had solely relied on Sirius so far. Why hadn’t she thought to write to Remus asking for help as well?

Harri’s loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape's hatred of her a hatred which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Harri had helped Sirius escape right under Snape's overlarge nose - Snape and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

Harri didn’t doubt Snape hated her more than ever now. Despite what the Voice had shown here she still couldn’t accept any part of Snape gave a flying fuck about her or her safety. She wondered what new hell Snape would put her counterpart through in this book.

“We wouldn’t lie to you,” the Voice whispered softly in the back of her mind. 

“Never to you,” the Voice added and Harri could swear she could hear a slightly different pitch of tone as if this was a completely different individual speaking. It was hard to tell though. Could they be using magic to disguise their voices?

“We are,” the Voice admitted sheepishly. 

“Who are you?” Harri thought, desperately wanting to know.

“You’ll find out after these books are done. We promise. We have no intention of keeping anything from you.”

“We know how much you value honesty.”

“We hope you’ll forgive us for keeping you in the dark so long.”

“We know you don’t like it when other people decide what’s best for you to know about your own life-”

“But we need you to finish the books first so you’ll understand why we’ve messed with time.”

Harri scowled but let it go. The Voice, or well Voices, she supposed had so far been the only people who thought Harri deserved to know about her life. They had shown her memories of her parents, and had brought them all here so Harri would know the future. They seemed to want to answer her questions. She was willing to trust them for now.

“Snape is such a git he was never going to see her for her,” played on repeat in the back of Snape’s mind. The infuriating Voice plagued the quiet of his mind with Potter's thoughts mocking him. He wasn’t going to be bullied into changing his opinion on Potter. The girl had not shown him anything to reevaluate his opinion on her. 

“Hasn’t she?” Lily’s voice echoed over the Voice’s chatter. “When are you going to open your eyes, Sev? Why do you continue to refuse to see me in my daughter?”

Severus slammed up tighter mental shields hoping to block everything out. Didn’t Lily know that if he could see her in Potter he would have to face truths he never wanted to. He would have to deal with emotions he had thought to have killed years ago. By seeing nothing but James Potter's spitting image when he looked at Harriet, he was allowing himself peace of mind. He could handle the anger, it was an old friend. If the girl hated him then when it was revealed he was the reason her parents were dead, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise to her. He had established himself as a villain in her eyes for years. If he stopped and saw Harriet as anything other than her father, and Merlin forbid actually cared for the girl, he would have to face the guilt of her finding out he had betrayed her mother. No, it was better if they hated each other. Easier this way.

“Easier for you or her,” the Voice slyly whispered in his head. “Emotions are messy right. Best avoid them altogether.”

Severus scowled in response. 

If Harri, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school 

McGonagall wondered if Flitwick would be willing to help her enchant the boats so they would keep rain out and make them impossible to flip. While riding the boats into Hogwarts was a tradition she would hate to see go, she would not allow the students to be put in danger. She was sure Flitwick would be willing to brainstorm with her on ways to make the boats safer. The children had to go across the lake every year, for it was keyed into the wards.  No one who had yet to be sorted could take the carriages. Rowena Ravenclaw had seen to it, she was a stickler for traditions.

When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.

“Sweet,” Dennis breathed in awe. He was going to be the coolest first year of his class. He could even ham it up and spook the others he met on the train about the deadly boat ride they would have to endure.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

“Even the Hat has it out for us,” Daphne complained, eyes narrowed at the book. “Every other House got to sound great, and we got described as power hungry. No wonder nobody ever wants to associate with us.”

Harri thought she had a point. Slytherin’s description in the song was lacking when compared to the other houses. 

“Why does being ambitious have to make us Power hungry?” Blaise questioned with a scowl. “Everyone in this room has ambitions. Just because our house is known for having the most, why do we have to be the bad guys of the story? Potter has enough ambition that she could have been a Slytherin. I don’t see anyone calling her Power hungry when she’s ambitious enough to break several laws if it means getting her way.”

Harri once more thought the Slytherin’s had a point. Why was being described as ambitious such a bad thing in the Wizarding world? Hermione was one of the most ambitious people she knew and Harri had never once thought to say that was very Slytherin of her. 

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

They had been wrong though, Harri thought bitterly, Peter should have never been sorted into Gryffindor for he was the biggest coward she knew. He had let fear swallow him whole and lead him running to Voldemort to sell out her parents. He was so far from Gryffindor it was ridiculous. Calling him a Gyffidor spit on everything Gryffindors stood for. Harri also knew you could just ask for your House, she had done it. So how could the hat claim he had never been wrong when he was willing to bend to the students wishes. Plus Lockhart had been a Raveclaw, for crying out loud!

Dumbledore couldn’t agree with that statement for eleven was far too young to be sorted. The children were still learning who they were at that age. All he had to do was look across from him and see Severus to know the Hat had been wrong. Severus Snape would have been a tremendous addition to Gryffidor, despite how the man would have protested the Sorting. He was not only brave but loyal to a fault. As thick headed as all of the Gryffindors, Dumbledore knew too.

“Peter Pettigrew should never have been a Gryffindor,” Colin voiced, earning him several nods of agreement. “He’s nothing like a Gryffindor!”

“Wasn’t he, though?” Dumbledore inquired, peering over the rims of his glasses. He held his hand up to stop any protest before he could say his piece. “Before Peter Pettergrew made the terrible decision to betray the Potters, was he not a dear friend who had gone through the process of becoming an animagus out of loyalty for his friend who suffered every month? Did he not stay loyal to Remus Lupin even after finding out he was a werewolf when many others might have abandoned him? Did he not bravely join the Order of the Phoenix right out of Hogwarts to fight for what he believed at the time was right? Did he not fight in skirmishes with his fellow Order members risking his life for years before he turned spy?

“Peter Pettergrew made an unforgivable decision when he turned his back on his friends, but that does not make him any less a Gryffindor. Gryffindor’s are not above making mistakes or having the traits that make them Gryffindor’s come into question. I seem to recall several Gryffindor’s turning their backs on their fellow housemate over a few points they lost while living up to the traits you all hold so dear.”

The Gyrffindor’s in question all looked away in shame. They were all guilty of it. They had abandoned their values over some silly points.

"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

“The Hat takes great pride in the songs he makes every year. It spends all year revising and remaking the song until it’s satisfied,” Dumbledore revealed fondly. 

Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming - a misleading impression, for Harri, Ron, and Hermione knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature.

“Damn straight he does,” Charlie agreed wholeheartedly. Hagrid was one of his favorite people. No one seemed to understand his love for mythical creatures the way Hagrid did.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Harri had to admit the sorting was underwhelming without being there to see it actually happen. She couldn’t bring herself to be excited for her new housemates when they were nothing but faceless names being read out loud. The books had taken away the magic of the Sorting.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

“We fell in too,” Sirius chortled as he nudged Moony with his elbow. It had been a blast.

“No, you tipped us,” Remus corrected glumly. He had not enjoyed having to sit through his Sorting soaking wet and cold.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that girl down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See her? Know who she is, Dennis?"

“Merlin, why!” Harri moaned into her hands, peeking through her fingers to send death glares at the chuckling boys on either side of her. They could both shove it. It wasn’t funny.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

“As if you could with Potter in Gryffindor,” Blaise huffed, looking galled at the very suggestion. “Dumbledore hands you the Cup every year because whatever preposterous adventure Potter finds herself in every year. None of us stand a chance as long as she’s at Hogwarts.”

Harri sent the boy a sheepish grin seeing how that could get annoying. She hardly ever earned points through the normal system. She did earn Gryffidnor quite a few through Quidditch, but other than that, it did seem as if she came in at the last minute with just enough points to steal the Cup.

“The Headmaster seems terribly fond of his last minute points does he not,” Nacrissa commented, seeing a way to defend Potter. “Potter never asked for any of those points for her deeds. If the school was run better then Potter would never have been in the position to steal the Cup from Slytherin.”

“If the point system was fair. The Cup could easily have gone to my house or Flitwick’s,” Sprout cut in, shooting dirty looks at a certain Potion Professor. “For points have been taken and rewarded unfairly for several years now. If anyone has been shafted it is the Puffs and the Ravens.”

"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

“Is food all you care about?” Hermione asked with a roll of her eyes. He could at least support their new Housemates. The Sorting was a terrifying time for the eleven year olds. They deserved their sympathy. 

“I was hungry,” Ron shrugged. The Sorting sounded boring anyway. It had been boring this year too.

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" said Harri, through a sizable chunk of steak.

“You two wouldn’t know manners if I hit you over the head with them,” Hermione scolded. Why were her friends such heathens?

“Yes, mum,” Harri and Ron chorused. 

“I don’t act like your mother,” Hermione snapped defensively.

“You kind of do.”

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

“Why can’t Peeves attend the feast?” Fred questioned, thinking that was unfair. The poltergeist would certainly liven the feast up.

“And have the Welcoming Feast ruined because he can’t behave, absolutely not,” McGonagall shook her head. She didn't get paid enough for that. Perhaps she could get Peeves to follow the twins around while they tried to eat, then she’d see how much they wanted the Poltergeist at mealtimes. The students, old and new, spend all day travelling on the train to give them time to make connections or catch up with friends they might  not have had a chance to see during summer. The teachers always spent the day of the First ensuring the dorms were prepared, the feast was ready and that the schedules were finalised and all manner of last minute tasks that always cropped up despite preparing all summer. Students didn’t appreciate how much work went into teaching, prepping classes and upkeep the castle. The feast was an important tradition that deserved attention from all, which they wouldn’t get if Peeves was allowed to run amok, no matter how much the Weasley twins wanted entertainment. 

Students and teachers were grumpy alike from the long train ride and finalising the schedules respectively, and having a poltergeist “entertaining” in the evening would not only add to an already stressful day, but also make a bad first impression on the new students. 

“He could be allowed in towards the end of the feast,” Fred tried again. “He should be allowed to greet the new students.”

“Unless you wish to personally clean up the havoc Peeves would bring Mr. Weasley then I suggest you let this matter go for Pevees shall remain banned from the Sorting and Feast.”

"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits -"

“Hogwarts has house-elves,” Hermione proclaimed in horror.

“How do you think they feed so many people and our clothes get cleaned or why the common room gets cleaned?” Ron shrugged next to her. 

“I assumed they did all of that through magic,” Hermione sniffed. “How could Hogwarts support Slavery? It’s not right.”

“The elves like working,” Ron dictated for what felt like the millionth time. “Besides, Hogwarts is the best gig an elf can get. Can you really see Dumbledore abusing any of them or allowing the staff to abuse them?”

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning...see to the fires and so on....I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Tonks wondered if this was why Filch was so bitter. The House-Elves only cleaned at night, so all the mud and classroom mishaps would fall onto Filch to clean during the day. 

Dumbledore sighed, he had no care if the House-Elves were seen, never had. But he wished to protect the Elves. Many students came from privileged homes where house-elves were a common place. He didn’t wish for the House-elves to be taken advantage of by those who were used to them catering to them and seeing to their every whim. He had given the Elves permission to refuse students' requests, but he doubted they would. They would more than likely think it to be a great dishonor to deny any request. No, it was best to keep them hidden and safe.

"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

“They wouldn’t take it even if I offered it to them,” Dumbledore stated his calm gaze on Hermione before it flickered over to Dobby. “Though rest assured, should an elf ever want any of those things I would be more than happy to give it to them.”

What would a House-Elf do with a pension? Tonks thought. She had met her fair share of House-Elves and the only thing that ever seemed to make them happy was serving their Masters. 

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harri with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops - sorry, 'Arry -" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

“Gross,” Harri commented, face pinching up.

“Sorry, mate.”

“Just aim your food at someone else next time.”

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

Harri thought Hermione was being a little ridiculous here. As someone who had gone hungry before she knew if Hermione refused to eat she wasn’t going to have the strength to think, much less go on the crusade she was working herself into.

“While your anger on behalf of the House-eleves is admirable,” Nick Ganger said softly, gaining his daughters attention, “I don’t think starving yourself is the answer here. From the sounds of it, you don’t know how they are treated at Hogwarts nor do you know anything about Elf culture. You’re jumping into this without all the facts.”

“But,” Hermione prosted not seeing how her dad couldn’t see how wrong this was.

“I’m not saying you should give up on fighting for the House-elves,” Nick continued. “But I think you need to find a better way, and only after you’ve learned more about the species.”

Tonks thought Hermione was being extremely narrow minded thinking she was the only one who saw the world correctly. While she didn’t agree with the fact Winky had not been allowed to run or the fact Crouch had let the elf go,  she didn’t think he had seemed abusive, just very strict. Winky didn’t act the way Dobby did while he was under Malfoy 's care. Hermione was making it seem since Dobby had been abused then all house elves must be too, and nobody should own one. If Tonks took Hermione’s logic and moved it, nobody should be allowed to have children because Harri was abused by her relatives. Hermione’s parents were right, she didn’t know the first thing about Elves or what they wanted, and Tonks was quickly getting annoyed with the girl over it.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. 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."

“I don’t know why he bothers with banning things when Dumbledore doesn’t care about the list. He’s never given us any grief for ignoring that list,” Fred grumbled. Filch was a joke. 

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

Fred and George could no longer tell if Dumbledore meant them or the trio. While the Headmaster knew they enjoyed venturing out into the forest looking for magical creature parts to bring back to use for their products. The Headmaster had never done anything to stop them other than his warnings every feast. They honestly didn’t think Dumbledore actually cared if students went into the forest as long as they didn't mess with the creatures that lived there and didn’t wind up hurt.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

“What!”

“You can’t cancel Quidditch!”

“Quidditch is the best part of school!”

“Are you mad!”

Dumbhedore went on, "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 am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

“Whatever this big event can’t be more important or better than Quidditch,” Oliver opposed crossing his arms. How could they cancel Quidditch?

“Shut up, Oliver,” Katie hissed, smacking him upside the head. “The books are finally going to tell us what this big event is if you would just shut up and let me read.”

Oliver Wood made a note to send all tournament organisers a Howler for daring to cancel Quidditch. They couldn't just cancel Quidditch. They should have found a way to do the event around the best, most important sport ever.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

So, he was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Would he still be a target now he had made it to Hogwarts? Would the intruder give up now they couldn’t access him as easily or would he have to spend the year looking over his shoulder? There was much for Moody to think about.

Cedric could deal with Moody being their new teacher. While he did prefer Professor Lupin’s teaching style over the way Moody pounded the information into their heads during his training, at the very least they would have a competent teacher.

Several students shared looks. At least DA wouldn’t be a complete joke again. 

Hermione was pleased their education wouldn’t be lacking again.

“Are you going to end up pointing your wand at me too?” Harri asked skeptically. “Because so far three out of the three Defense teachers I’ve had have pointed their wands at me. Frankly, I don't think I will win if you turn on me.”

“Are you going to suddenly turn into a Death Eater over the course of this book?”

“No,” Harri shook her head thinking that was highly unlikely.

“Then you have no reason to fear winding up on the other side of my wand.”

Moody could list several people Potter would lose a duel to, and he had a lot of work to do to cut that list down. Potter would be a force of nature when he was done with her.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

It was true he didn’t know how Moody got his scars. There were rumors  about it and his siblings had speculated once but none of them knew for certain. Bill and Charlie had conversed with the man before due to their father, but as far as Ron knew they had never gathered the courage to ask him how he had gotten them. 

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

“No way!”

“You’ve got to be joking!”

“Wait,” Harri cut in. “What’s the big deal? What is the Triwizard tournament?”

“It’s where three schools compete to see who’s the best really,” Charlie shrugged. “They draw their champions and see who from each school will compete. Usually they have to go through a series of dangerous tasks which can be just about anything. There really isn’t much of a point to the tournament other than bragging rights, but from what I’ve read they are spectacular to watch. They were banned however because of how many died in them.”

Harri scrunched her nose up. If they were that dangerous, why bring them back at all?

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "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."

“Really, Albus,” McGonagall sighed, wishing her Headmaster could take this seriously.

“I really want to hear the end of that joke,” Fred encouraged, grinning widely.

“Another time,” Dumbledore promised. 

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harri herself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

Nick Granger looked over at his daughter in worry. Surely she wouldn’t try to enter such a dangerous tournament. He was sure his daughter had a good head on her shoulders and seemed to be the only one not swept up in the excitement such an event would bring about for the young children.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided 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.

“You’re gone and jinxed it,” Harri complained loudly, not liking where this year was going at all.

“We have taken several precautions,” Madam Bones tried to soothe Harri’ worries.

“Like you did with the Cup? Because we all heard how well that went.”

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed 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 the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

“I guess that explains why we are here,” Fleur commented, gesturing to herself and Viktor. Were they the Champions for their respective schools? It would make the most sense as to why they were here. She was torn between pride at being selected as Champion for Beauxbatons or wondering if the impartial judge had selected her for her looks. 

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

“I’m afraid you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” McGonagall chimed in, rather glad that the rules had been changed. Anyone not of age would not be able to complete. While she would still worry for the Hogwarts Champion she wouldn’t have to fear for a child who did not know what they were signing up for. She wouldn’t have to worry about any of the younger grades who were far too ill equipped for such a tournament trying to compete.

“This wasn’t worth cancelling Quidditch for,” Oliver grumbled, who cared about competing to claim your students were the best.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "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 who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. 

The age restriction did nothing to quell the uneasy feeling coiling in Harri’s gut. This all sounded far too good to be true. If any of this was true that would mean she would get a normal year at Hogwarts, something she had accepted would never happen. It sounded like the books were trying to trick her into relaxing so they could later steal all of the false peace it had given to her.

“At least you’ll have a peaceful year, you're too young to complete,” Cedric commented next to her.

“I’ll eat my wand if I don’t end up in that stupid tournament against my will due to some bullshit reasons that boil down to I’m Harriet Potter,” Harri shot back, arms crossed. “If it sounds too good to be true it probably isn’t.”

“That would be your luck,” Fred snickered as he bumped his shoulder against hers. “Bright side is at least you won’t be blindsided by anything that happens next year.”

I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

“Challenge accepted,” Fred and George chorused as they grinned widely at their headmaster. If the books told them how Dumbledore was planning on stopping them they could use that. They had plenty of time to plot now.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

“You’re never going to out smart Dumbledore,” Hermione scoffed. The headmaster had years on them. She doubted the twins would even get close.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harri. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older....Dunno if we've learned enough..."

“How does risking your life sound like fun?” Hermione asked, eyebrows raised. “Don’t we get enough excitement every year with all the strange things that go on at Hogwarts. I for one would like one year where I didn’t have to run for my life.”

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harri and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

“Everytime,” Neville shook his head. He hated that blasted step. It was going to be the death of him.

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Harri distinctly heard her mutter "Slave labor" before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.

Harri mourned for her book counterpart. It sounded as if Hermione was going to be impossible this year over the house elves.

Harri rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in her mind's eye....She had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing she was seventeen....she had become Hogwarts champion...she was standing on the grounds, her arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming...she had just won the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric's face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, his face glowing with admiration.... 

Harri turned bright head and wished for the couch to swallow her whole. That was just mortifying. Why couldn’t the books have left that out!

“Dreaming about me,” Cedric teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m flattered.”

“I can’t control what my book counterpart dreams about,” Harri cried as she shoved Cedric's shoulder. The books had already established she found the other boy very nice to look at, so she wasn’t surprised she had dreamed about him, but she could have lived with it never being revealed. 

Cedric couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Harri in the books seemed to like him enough that he appeared in her dreams. It brought him a sense of hope for how things were going with the real Harri. He swatted that hope down. He needed to stop. He had already promised himself and his mother he was just going to be her friend. Thoughts like that weren’t helping and he wasn’t going to push for more from Harri. All of this was just so confusing. If this room had never happened would Harri have eventually liked him? Had this room altered the progression of their friendship?