Chapter 1
Prologue
The Night of the Third Task, 1793
"Why?" I choked, the single word searing it's way up my throat, grating and rubbing raw like a coarse scream. "Why are you doing this?"
He — this man who was supposed to be my friend — gave a lighthearted laugh, finding humor in my grief. The disorienting sound was enough to send shivers rippling down my spine.
"Why?" he mused, eyeing me casually while he twirled my wand between his fingers. "Why, why, why... I can't believe you never figured it out. You always wanted to seem so irritatingly smart, but when it comes to people, your friends, even emotions... you're as blind as ever."
"That doesn't make any sense!" I insisted, buying for time in the hope that I could rack my throbbing brain for a way out of this, when all my body ached for was the release of unconsciousness, or worse. "We — we were friends. How could you do this? To me? To everyone else? You've hurt so many people just to get to me. Don't you feel anything?"
"Friends?" he scoffed. "I've wanted you dead for months."
A second later I heard a sharp snap and flinched, my stomach plummeting as the two shards of my shattered wand came apart in his hands.
"Months?" I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Nothing made sense anymore. "What — what did I do? Whatever you want, you can have it! You want the prize money? Take it!" My screams drowned out the ambient noise of declining evening, ringing in my ears with more anger than I might have expected. Betrayed, hurt, but most of all furious, I pulled myself to my feet, trying to ignore the bodies scattered bodies around us, and definitely ignoring whether they were breathing. If they weren't... I couldn't think about that right now. "What do you want from me? What drove you to this — this madness?"
"You just don't listen!" he hissed, a manic gleam in his eyes, as he pressed the point of his own unbroken wand to my chest and took several casual steps forward. With every step he made closer to me I matched it with a cautious one back. "I literally told you I wanted you dead. You think a few Galleons will make everything alright again?" He forced another laugh, but this time it sounded almost pained. "You thought you were so much better than all of us, guarding your secrets like we were unworthy of them, but look at us now. I outsmarted you at every turn! I was more bold, more cunning, loyal, intelligent... You are nothing next to me!"
"You? Outsmart me?" My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper whisper. "You were my friend, you idiot! I would have died for you once! I wasn't exactly aware we were competing!"
His eyes pierced into me like daggers. Somehow, his familiar, comforting gaze had morphed into something unrecognizable and cold over these past months while I hadn't been paying attention, while I'd been too focused on surviving the Triwizard Tournament. How come I hadn't seen it before? It seemed so obvious now, looking at him. My own friend was going to murder me, as I stood frozen and wandless before him.
"You would have died for me? Well then, by all means, be my guest. Now is your opportunity to prove it." His lips thinned into a tight line and the wand pressed further into my chest, eliciting a sharp, stabbing pain over my heart. "But it's no fun to kill you if you don't even know why. I need you to understand why you deserve this. I won't have you dying on me with a clean conscience, Al. By the end, you will die knowing you deserve what's coming, Agonize over what you have done and how you could have prevented this. The signs were all there. My anger made my revenge sloppy at times, and yet you were still too dim to realize that it was me who put your name in the goblet, me who revealed who you really are to the world, and me who hurt little Thomas."
He used a casual flick of his pointer finger to lift my face up so I might meet his gaze. Despite myself, some small, distant part of me registered how warm his hands were, the same hands that once protected me from a rogue spell flying toward my head in Charms by leaping in the way. He'd shattered most of the bones in his arm that day, and laughed off my gratitude by saying I couldn't afford any more brain damage than I already had. The same hands that warmed mine after an hour too long spent in the snow, and the same ones that dragged me through dark corridors as we crept around places we ought not have been in.
Perhaps if I had been smarter. If my name never came to enter the Goblet. If I had never been chosen. Perhaps none of this would have ever happened. Perhaps my friend would still be saving my neck, instead of longing to cut it.
"So," eyes cold, he asked, "have you figured it out yet?"
• — • — •
1 September, 1792 (8 Months Prior)
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the Sorting Hat finally called the name I had been waiting to hear most.
"Thomas Lovett."
My brother rocked uncertainly forward onto the aged stool. The stunning green hue of his face suggested he was about to be sick all over the stone floors of the Great Hall. For his sake, I sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, because Hogwarts students had long memories and he'd never live down the embarrassment.
On the other hand, perhaps it was a sign that he would be sorted into Slytherin.
When Thomas's nervous eyes finally found me amongst the masses at the crowded Ravenclaw long table, I smiled encouragingly and gave him small thumbs up, hoping a little positive reinforcement would calm his nerves.
The ratty old hat took no time to deliberate when Deputy Headmaster Aragon placed it upon my brother's head, instantly booming, "GRYFFINDOR!"
I groaned inwardly. I had nothing against Gryffindors, but one — one Gryffindor in particular — drove me completely mad. Sure enough, as my eyes trailed Thomas on his skittish journey down to the other red and gold clad students, Damon stood up to invite him to sit at his side. I didn't miss the cocky smirk he sent my way before he sat back down, nor the meaningful look that accompanied it, his way of reminding me that I now owed him a galleon.
As if I could forget.
I huffed out an annoyed breath. Of all the Houses, Thomas just had to be sorted into Gryffindor. There were a great many things in the world I didn't like — cucumbers, for example — but chief most among them was losing a bet, especially when I knew Damon would rub my nose in his victory.
Usually, students couldn't wait for the sorting ceremony to end, but I saw it come with increasing apprehension weighing down my heart, knowing I'd soon have to deal with Damon's gloating. Too soon, the dreaded moment arrived in the form of a tap on the shoulder.
"I told you he'd be a Gryffindor," Damon gloated as he strode past to sit with the Hufflepuffs. "Pay up."
I stood up from my own table and followed, plopping down beside our Hufflepuff friend Cassius. To prove a point, I flung the single, shining gold galleon out of my pocket and into Damon's pumpkin juice.
There went all the wealth to my name.
"If you really want my money, go fish for it."
Cassius patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, sparing a pitying look.
"Don't be upset because Thomas got into Gryffindor," he said, earnest. "At least he'll have Damon to look out for him. It's better than a lot of first years."
"I'd trust my brother to the care of a chimaera before I'd entrust him to Damon," I said, stabbing my fork into a savoury piece of ham.
Before Damon could voice his dawning indignation, an emerald clad figure slid herself into the bench beside him.
"Personally, I'm with Alice on this one," Lyra said, taking the galleon out of Damon's goblet and putting it in her own pocket with a sly grin. Ruffling his hair, she added, "This ones head is already too full for his own good. He should actually lose a few bets every once and awhile."
"It's not my fault that she's the worst gambler ever to attend Hogwarts," he protested, relocating an unconsumable number of buttery rolls onto his plate. "Or to set foot in the British Isles, for that matter. All I know is that whenever she bets for one thing, I should do my best to place my money on the opposite."
"Ha. Ha." I rolled my eyes. "Statistically, I'm bound to win one day. And then you'll be sorry. You'll all be sorry."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Lyra breezed on, waving her hand dismissively. "So. We're all putting our names in, right?"
She needed not elaborate further. The Tournament had been the talk of the summer. Everyone wanted to know who would be gunning for the title of Hogwarts Champion this year, which, incidentally, was just about everyone. A sort of nervous energy pulsed throughout the room from speculation, but, more importantly, everyone yearned to know who the Goblet of Fire would actually choose come October.
Each tournament had what could only be considered an illegal gambling ring amongst the students to liven things up before the action actually began. Mere hours into the new school year and already the odds were stacked heavily in favor of the Head Boy and Slytherin Quidditch Captain — need I add overachiever? — Altair Black, although I had also heard that Damon was a favorite to win, as well. As much as the thought of Damon's gloating fed my nausea, better him than Altair, as far as I was concerned.
While the others confirmed their plans to enter, I hesitated. "I think I'm gonna sit this one out..."
Lyra shot me an affronted look that suggested I had just murdered her only child right in front of her eyes using just the fork in my hand.
"My ears had better be deceiving me, or so help me I will put your name in the goblet myself while you sleep, young lady," she threatened. "How could you not want to compete?"
"Yeah, why not?" Cassius asked, peering up from the slice of toast he was buttering to give me a quizzical look. "Even I'm going for it."
"Not interested," I replied shortly, wanting to change the subject. The less they knew about my baggage the better. It was bad enough I still suffered nightmares, I couldn't stand it if they looked at me different for what I'd done. Sighing exaggeratedly for effect, I turned to Damon and asked, "Need I even ask if you're putting your name in?"
"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.' Abruptly, his expression turned serious. "Though, Alice, I need to ask you to do one thing for me..."
Taken off guard by his change of tone, I leaned forward. "Of course, whatever you need."
"Then please, for the love of all that is good, do not, under any circumstances, bet on me to be chosen. That's a surefire way to make me lose."
His lips split into a wide grin, letting me know he was just giving me a hard time.
"Lyra," I said, nodding at him. "Do you mind doing the honours?"
Lyra grinned like Christmas had come early and wasted no time, saying, "My pleasure!" and swatting him upside the head before he could react.
"You know what," I decided, pointing my fork at him. "I'm gonna bet all my money on you." He didn't need to know he'd actually won my last cent. "That'll teach you a lesson for being rude."
He gasped in mock horror. "You wouldn't dare!"
"I would," I warned.
"Now settle down, kids," Cassius cut in, taking on the demeanor of an exasperated parent.
I would have completely disregarded him, but, as luck would have it, the Headmaster chose that moment to address the room.
"As I'm sure you are all aware, it is a long held tradition for the three great schools of wizardry to participate in a competition to breed familiarity and trust between our wizarding of communities every few years," the sallow-looking Professor Everard announced. "This is, of course, such a year."
He looked around to the many enraptured faces, seeming almost surprised to see anyone before him at all. Regaining himself, he continued.
"No doubt every one of you knows the rules, but so if you would please indulge me." He squinted, as though trying to remember the rules for himself. "The participants from our sister schools shall arrive come October, and you will have 48 hours from then forth to submit your name. There will be no exceptions. If you have the honor of being chosen, then you are both honor bound and magically bound to see the tournament to the end. With that out of the way, I bid you all good night."
The headmaster nodded absently, hobbling away.
Just then, the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Walter Aragon, leapt to his feet and hastily added, "Prefects, please guide the first years to their respective dormitories."
"Professor Everard is so hopeless," Lyra scoffed, rolling her dark eyes. "That man could get lost in a broom closet if Aragon wasn't constantly chasing him around. I'm surprised he even remembers the way to his office."
"But he's still a good Headmaster," Cassius protested. "And one of the most celebrated to date, not to mention his ministry work—"
"Oh put a sock in it," Lyra interrupted, yawning pointedly. "It must be so exhausting to be resigned to Hufflepuff niceties all the time. He mean."
"You're a bad influence," I told her.
With most others already filed out of the Great Hall, myself, Lyra, Damon, and Cassius rose from the table and made our way to the exits. Damon headed one way with Lyra to walk her to the dungeons. Before I could turn left, in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower, I felt a crushing weight ram into my gut.
I gasped, winded, as Cassius moved to disentangle my eleven year old brother from around my waist. His frightened eyes peered up at my from beneath thick eyelashes, brimming with worry.
"Hey." I leaned down to stroke my brother's cheek. "What's the matter?"
"We're not in the same House," he said, blinking rapidly, anxiously. "I thought we were supposed to be in the same House!"
"That's not quite how that works, but at least you have Damon with you," I soothed, taking his arm and guiding him out in search of the other Gryffindor first years. "And, mark my words, if he lets anything happen to you, I'll push him off of the Astronomy Tower."
I sent Thomas what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
"Yup, Damon would have to answer all three of us. Your sister, me, and Lyra, too." Cassius winked. "You're in good hands. And between you and me," he leaned over to whisper in Thomas's ear, "Everyone is far too afraid of your sister to bother you."
Thomas snorted. Caius was going to make my brother think I had a bad reputation, which was only partly true. I would have been annoyed at Cassius's insinuations were it not for how my brother's face lit up as he laughed.
"There they are, Thomas," I said, pointing towards the mob of very short Gryffindors. "Stick close to them, and I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
He nodded, scurrying after them after I finally giving him a little shove.
I sent Cassius a flat look and nudged his side playfully with my elbow. "You're going to pay for that fear comment later."
He chuckled, walking off towards the kitchen. Waving a casual hand behind him, he called, "I'm counting on it."