Chapter 1 - Lucky Me
Oftentimes, people do not take Headmaster Slughorn seriously—well, except when he's offering free box seat Quidditch tickets.
The thing is, while he's all fun and good-natured (and oddly, sometimes a bit sadistic), Professor Slughorn can be a little too easy-going. I swear, when he pops in unexpected in my NEWT potions class, Professor Collins nearly has heart attacks. And while it's always amusing to watch Professor Collins be criticized cheerfully by our headmaster, I don't enjoy the visits too much, either.
Of course, it's mainly due to the fact that he always stops by our table—Al and I are always partners—and starts never-ending conversations about our parents and how much he adores them, and how he knew we would be Head Boy and Girl because we were as great as our parents (I suppose it didn't matter that he was the one who made the Head decisions; besides, Dad swears that Slughorn didn't even know his name during school).
However, right now, we were dumbfounded for another reason entirely.
It was supposed to be just another night in October at Hogwarts, and we were having dinner in the Great Hall. For some reason though, Slughorn had told us to remain seated after our meal for an important announcement. This came as a bit of a shock, since he almost never addresses us—although, I didn't worry about that too much because I've always been slightly skeptical of his mental sanity.
I was not prepared for this announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and poltergeist, I hope you're excited to host the latest Triwizard Tournament." Professor Slughorn's voice was calm and casual, expectantly awaiting our reactions with an easy grin.
The entire Great Hall stared at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed—just overall dumbfounded.
Was he serious?
Professor Slughorn frowned at the dead silence. "Well," he began, disappointed. "I suppose we could always refuse to host—"
Of course, that little comment seemed to jerk us all back to life.
"I can't believe this!"
"Is he serious?"
"Logically, we shouldn't really trust him; he's been known to pull these pranks on us—"
"You're just jealous he didn't offer you box seats for the Playoffs!"
"The bloody Triwizard Tournament? Wait, did I hear him correctly? I'm sorry, I'm serious, I just woke up—"
"Foreign guys!"
Yeah, our reactions were so utterly random, but the unanimous response was of excitement. The cheers and shouts deafened the Hall.
I grinned widely at Al. It didn't take us long to realize that we couldn't hear each other at all, even with us sitting next to each other.
Evidently, we were also really crappy lip-readers. Or at least I was.
Unless Al really wanted kiss the Giant Squid.
Doubtful.
"Now that's the reaction I was looking for!" Professor Slughorn said approvingly through his Sonorus charm.
As we all fell silent, he stared at us with amusement, grinning wickedly. "Yes, it is quite an event. But, there's more. We've decided to change a few things this time. As some of you are aware, the two other schools competing in the Tournament are Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. But, instead of telling you jolly good students early, we've decided to spare you all the anticipation, because the contenders of the Triwizard Tournament will be arriving," he paused and looked at us with a huge smile, "now."
Oh Merlin, he's serious! He can't just spring these kinds of surprises on us. Our hearts won't be able to take all this!
I was pretty sure my eyes had widened to the size of two quaffles—each—and I wasn't the only one. Seriously, what was wrong with Slughorn? He was clearly some sort of sadist. I mean, withholding this information from us for the past month? Ridiculous. And the almost-triumphant gleam of amusement in his eyes just confirmed my suspicions.
Slughorn apparently wasn't finished, though, as he cleared his throat loudly. "I am certain you will all be more than hospitable to these foreign students, who will be guests at our castle for the remainder of the school year."
More gasps from my fellow students.
"In an effort to promote inter-school unity, they will attend the same classes that you currently have; but this only pertains to the Seventh Years." There was that look again. "Also, it is my great pleasure to inform you that each Seventh Year student will be assigned a foreign student to assist during their remainder at Hogwarts. Think of it as a buddy system."
What?
I mean, as Head Girl, I know I was expected to be the perfect good girl who went along happily with every "brilliant" that the administration came up with, but I was not too fond of having to deal with some foreign student for the rest of the year. They were probably ridiculously stuck-up, evil people or something. I know it's wrong of me to make these ridiculous assumptions, especially since Mum always said to "never judge a book by its cover", but I was a bit freaked out.
And for good reason, too. I had NEWTs to study for, and our daily schoolwork wasn't getting any lighter (I was sure that my professors were being influenced by the positively sadistic Slughorn). Of course, I knew that NEWTs were months away, but I just had a habit of stressing myself out. Teddy always joked that I had more gray hairs than his grandmother, and that it was really unfortunate I wasn't a Metamorphmagus like him so I couldn't change my hair color at will.
But, really. Who listened to Teddy? He depressed me way too much sometimes.
Anyways, during my lovely session of self-understanding, I apparently spaced out and didn't hear the rest of Slughorn's inspiring speech, because the doors were opening, and our visitors were coming. The anticipation and excitement in the air strangely made me feel like I was at a wedding for some reason—you know, when the bride's walking down the aisle and . . . never mind.
The first person who entered was an unnaturally large woman. I almost squealed in excitement when I recognized her. It was Madam Maxime, Hagrid's wife! Or as she wanted us to call her, Aunt Maxime.
Actually, she tried for just plain old Maxime at first—because according to her, she was still young and we were practically like sisters, anyways, so Madam sounded too formal—but Mum insisted on addressing her as Aunt. Which was fine with me, because she was still awesome either way—although, I was sure I caught her giving Mum the evil eye a couple times after . . . but I could be wrong.
I nudged Al to see his reactions about Aunt Maxime. He rolled his eyes at me, but grinned in a Duh, I know, Rose, kind of way. I returned his eye-rolling. Can't a girl be excited around here? Al could be pretty depressing, too.
Behind Aunt Maxime were the Beauxbatons students. There were at least twenty of them and they were all dressed in blue silk robes. And—I almost laughed—many of them exuded this air of superiority as they glanced at us. Apparently this was one of those times when my rash judgment was actually somewhat accurate. I was a bit put-out that we had to help these people.
But most of my classmates didn't seem to have a problem with assisting the Beauxbatons students. The guys were showing a lot of interest in the French girls. And, I guess, the French guys weren't too bad, either. Some of them were pretty cute.
After the Beauxbatons people came in, another group followed. This time, they were led by a tall man dressed in heavy layers of fur. He greeted Slughorn, who replied politely, but it was obvious he didn't like Durmstrang's headmaster very much. To be honest, I didn't either. His hair looked like clean water was afraid of him and his eyes held a strange look. I wasn't really sure why, but he just seemed creepy to me.
Behind him, a line of about twenty students dressed in deep blood-red robes also marched in. They looked a bit better than the Beauxbatons students, so I still had hope. With any luck, I'd be paired with one of these nicer Durmstrang kids.
Aunt Maxime and Professor Pafvel—as Durmstrang's headmaster was called—took seats at the staff table while Slughorn told the students to sit wherever they pleased. He welcomed them all to our humble abode and then proceeded to talk about the topic we were all holding our breaths for.
"The moment we have all been waiting for is finally here," Slughorn began. Drum roll. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start."
He then outlined the rules and gave credit to the brilliant minds who worked on this event. Only one champion per school would be chosen to compete, and they would be tested through three challenging tasks over the course of the year. The champion who performed the best would win the Triwizard Cup.
But of course, we all knew that already. The Tournament was legendary.
"To choose the students representing each magical school, there will be an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire." Slughorn used his wand to tap the top of a casket brought in by Filch the caretaker—Dad's always surprised to hear that he's still going, and that his cat, Mrs. Norris, was still being a tattle-tale. The lid creaked open and he reached inside, pulling out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. Its plain design did nothing to take away from the coolness of it, though, especially with blue-white flames dancing on the cup's brim.
"Anyone who wishes to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school on a piece of parchment and drop it in the cup. All aspiring champions have twenty-four hours," he explained in a slightly bored tone.
I knew that Slughorn hated giving rules, which was one of the awesome things about him—despite his questionably sadistic tendencies. "Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three worthy to represent their school. But, to avoid temptation, keep in mind that the goblet will not even take into account those who are underage. Of course," he added uncharacteristically kindly, "the celebration afterwards for the Champions is open to all, so the younger students need not be disappointed."
YES! I was so glad my birthday had already passed. I heard Al breathe a sigh of relief; his was only last week.
But still, it would so suck to be all those kids who were underage. I heard a guy yell, "But isn't age just a number?"
Apparently Slughorn's niceness had its limitations, so he ignored the poor kid and went on. "Lastly, I wish to remind you all that this competition should not be entered lightly." I was a bit shocked at how serious he sounded, but I understood the enormity of the Tournament. People had died and it was canceled for a long time due to the alarming death toll.
In fact, the last time the Triwizard Tournament was held was when my parents were in Fourth Year. Uncle Harry and Aunt Fleur were both champions, and a person named Cedric Diggory had died. It really was dangerous.
He continued, "Once a champion is selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is bound to a magical contract and must see the tournament to its end. I hope every one of you considers your actions seriously, because no change of heart can occur once you become a champion."
He paused, letting his words mull over, although I was sure it had no effect on us rebellious teenagers. "But, enough for now, it's time to rest. Good night to you all." The amused glint in his eyes was back. "And remember, Seventh Year Hogwarts students, you will each receive an individual reminder informing you of your honorable responsibility."
Really, I applauded these innovative methods to promote interschool unity.
Not.
I woke up super late the next morning because I adored sleeping in. I was so grateful it was a Saturday and still the weekend. I was really like Dad in this way, and usually it's Mum and Hugo waiting for Dad and I to get ready when we go out. It was quite funny, actually—well, except when Mum's patience wore out. Then I shamelessly blame the delay on Dad.
He shows me the same courtesy.
I couldn't wait to get down to the Great Hall and submit my name into the Goblet of Fire. I actually spent a long time last night thinking about it. I knew that it wasn't some joke, and I was really excited about it. There was even 1000 galleon prize money for the winner.
Funnily enough, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had only really gone into business because Uncle Harry had given his prize money to Uncle George and his twin brother who had passed away during the War, Uncle Fred. I wanted to do something good with the money if I won, too.
I hurriedly brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my dark auburn hair. I had wanted to cut it forever ago, but I never had any time. I wasn't complaining, though, because I sort of semi-liked my wavy hair. Of course it wasn't the perfect straight, bright red hair that Aunt Ginny and Lily had, but I took what I got.
I searched my closet for something to wear. I didn't usually make that much of an effort on my appearance, but for some reason, the better-than-thou attitude some of those foreign students were sporting just made me want to look better. But definitely not because I wanted to impress them. As if.
It was sunny outside, so I decided on a navy blue dress with white, red, and orange flowers adorning it. It was above the knee and had thin straps, so I pulled on a cream-colored sweater. I thought I actually looked pretty good—or so I hoped, anyway.
Before leaving me room, I tore off a scrap of parchment and scribbled my name and Hogwarts on it, my heart thumping excitedly. I didn't know if I would be chosen, but I had to try.
Al was finishing off a Transfiguration essay in the common room we shared. That was one of the advantages about being Head Girl. Besides getting a shiny badge, I also didn't have to be around all my classmates all the time. Not that I didn't love them or anything.
With his dark untidy hair, one would've thought he had just woken up. But I knew better (besides, it was just that Potter trait that girls loved so much). His green eyes were clear and lucid—even if a bit frustrated.
"Oh, look. She's alive."
"Told you to start that thing last week," I grinned at his procrastination.
Al was really smart, but he had inherited Uncle Harry's not-so-smooth procrastination skills. Mum still badgered him about it to this very day. I knew 'cause I was usually the one standing around that Uncle Harry complained to, until he realized that I was her daughter, that is. Then I assume he goes off to find my Dad or something.
"Shut up, Rose," he muttered.
"Now, now, Alby," I said patiently. "Is that any way to treat your best-est friend and most favorit-est cousin?"
He just ignored me for a second, but apparently some brilliant idea hit him. He looked at me hopefully. "Well, you know all that favoritism goes both ways, right?"
I sighed, "I'll take a look at it later." Unfortunately, he was my favorite cousin and best friend. Curse him.
Al let out a joyful whoop. "You know I love you!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
He smiled, "Are you going to enter the Tournament?"
"Of course." I gave him a what about you? look.
He gave me one of those duh looks. It slightly annoyed me how good he was at them.
I smiled, though, because I was happy we were both going to take a shot at it. "Yay! Okay, I'm going now. Are you coming?" I stared at him pityingly, "On second thought, though, are you sure your short legs can take the walk down?" He was actually way taller than me, but he never missed a shot at my height, so I looked for every opportunity.
It's what cousins did.
I mean, I wasn't even all that short, just around 5'6"—of course, that didn't mean much in my freakishly tall family.
He laughed at me, not even responding. Some days, I really had to reconsider why he was my best friend. It may have had to do with that strange-looking drink that he claimed he spent all afternoon making with his mum when we were three, which he insisted on me drinking. Definitely worth investigating into.
He chucked something in my direction. It was a Deluxe Edition Chocolate Frog Set—Will Keep You Hopping All Day! I raised my eyebrows; those marketing people sure were something, huh?
"Happy Halloween!"
Ooooh, right! Halloween, one of the most wonderful times of the year. I actually kind of forgot about it. I ripped the package open, and threw one of the frogs inside at the aforementioned favorite cousin of mine. "Happy Halloween," I told him cheerfully.
Al caught it easily examined it critically, face full of excitement. "Oh, wow, look how cool these are! I've never seen anything like 'em before in my entire life. You must have spent all day picking this out for me."
I rolled me eyes at him. "Oh shut up. It isn't like it's Christmas or something." I wondered if that boy was just naturally annoying.
Just then, two envelopes appeared on the table. Al and I exchanged glances for about half a second and grabbed the one that had our name on it.
I tore it open and skimmed through the letter. It was basically the same stuff Slughorn said about our foreign student responsibilities, blah blah blah. But the bottom of the letter was what was most interesting.
Scorpius Malfoy, Beauxbatons.
Um, how exciting.
"I got some girl from Durstrang called Emily Dashkov," Al said curiously.
"Hmm, I got Scorpius Malfoy from Beauxbatons," I told him.
"Malfoy? I remember that name from the stories my mum told me about the war. I don't think Dad likes them too much."
I shrugged, since that was pretty much as far as I knew, anyways. "Who knows? Hopefully he's not a complete idiot," I said, making a face.
Al laughed, "Let's keep our fingers crossed. We should go find them."
When we went down to the entrance hall, tons of people were already up—no surprise—and were studying the Goblet of Fire as if it was the key to all their dreams. Well, I guess it really could be. But then, money couldn't buy everything—or at least that's what Mum says.
Al and I dropped our names into the Goblet of Fire. Some of the younger students who were 'guarding' it gave us a cheer. Although I wondered if the encouragement was really genuine or if it was just to distract us from the aging potion that I knew they were hiding.
"It's not going to work," I smiled at them, probably a little more evilly than needed. Uncle George and Uncle Fred had tried it before, and they ended up sprouting the finest beards in the entire school—at least according to former Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Unless your goal is to grow a beard," Al grinned cheerfully.
"I'm sure they'll be wonderful, though," I assured them.
Shocked expressions crossed their faces. I hoped those kids didn't think we were joking—I mean, we could be nice sometimes. I blamed James and Fred for ruining our good Weasley and Potter reputations.
At the Gryffindor Table, a lot of our classmates were chattering excitedly about the Tournament.
"So, have you guys met your foreign students yet?" I asked them, piling bacon, eggs, and a piece of toast and some sliced strawberries on my plate.
"Oh yeah," Sam Hughes nodded happily. "I got this French girl—Chantal. God, she's so hot." I raised an eyebrow at him and chewed on my eggs as I noticed his girlfriend, Kara, look over at him with a hurt expression.
I shook my head. He just commented on how hot some random French girl was, and she was practically encouraging it. If I were her, I would've broken up with him on the spot.
"Lucky," Dave Collins muttered darkly. "I got this weird Beauxbatons guy who doesn't talk. For all I know, he could be mute or something."
Al chuckled, "Don't worry, mate. This doesn't mean we can't get to know some of the other girls."
Dave high-fived him. I rolled my eyes and finished the rest of my breakfast. I gave up on them a long time ago, but it was no wonder they didn't have girlfriends.
"It sucks that I still have to spend half an hour a day hanging out with him, though," Dave said.
I sympathized. I remembered the letter saying something about that, and that our people would report it to our Heads of Houses for confirmation. Dire consequences and impending doom would be in store for us if we failed to spend some serious quality time with our people—or something like that.
They really were going all-out on enforcing this bid for interschool unity.
But, half an hour wasn't all that bad. It could be a lot worse.
When Al and I finished eating, we decided to split up and find our special foreign students. I was jumping for joy. Sighing, I walked outside.
How in the world were we supposed to find them? I mean, I was definitely not psychic, and after all the warnings from Mum, Dad, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny…pretty much everyone in my family (excluding Uncle Percy, because while I was polite and sat through three-hour long lectures about cauldron regulations, I didn't actually believe in a lot of what he said), I most definitely did not choose Divination as a class in Third Year.
However, Dad did say he spent three years of his life furthering his creativity while making up tragic predictions for Professor Trelawney.
But maybe Divination may have been worth looking into—what with all the benefits of expanding my imagination and everything—because I didn't enjoy the thought of going up to every guy I didn't know and ask him if he was Scorpius Malfoy.
Pros and cons, I suppose.
In the end, I walked up to a couple French-y-looking people (I had no idea what that meant, but I didn't understand myself half the time). One girl looked at me with disdain, but the other seemed curious.
"Hey guys," I said cheerfully. Not much a response. Crap, these people did speak English, right? I was screwed otherwise. "Are any of you familiar with a Scorpius Malfoy?"
A girl with dark brown hair gasped and glared at me. She pulled the other girl away and started jabbering in French while pointing rudely at me.
The other girl glanced over her shoulder to look at me. She pointed in the direction of the Black Lake, smiling apologetically.
I nodded in thanks, unfazed by her friend's attitude, but definitely curious as to what brought on the outburst.
I shook my head. Not worth the time to decipher. Whatever.
Walking in the direction she had pointed, I spotted a distinct figure lounging against a great oak tree—my favorite tree.
Interesting.
Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and headed over there. I wondered what Malfoy was like. Hopefully, he wasn't as stuck-up as those other girls. Of course, I had never been lucky, so I wasn't holding my breath.
From what I could see, he had tousled platinum-blond hair. But even as I got closer, he didn't seem to notice me at all. Just kept on looking at his book and flipping the pages at an alarmingly fast speed. I wondered if he was actually reading any of it.
I stood there for almost two minutes. Still nada.
"Must be a pretty absorbing book," I remarked, sitting down on the grass next to him. I prayed to Merlin this was actually Scorpius Malfoy, because I didn't want to look like an idiot, just sitting down and chatting with random guys.
I didn't think his expression changed, but his lips curved into a fraction of a smile. "I was wondering if you planned on just standing there all day." He didn't say anything else, so I leaned over and glanced at a few lines of his book.
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. It was Muggle. I'd read it a few years ago.
"Well, you were reading as if they're going to start burning books any second. I couldn't help but be a bit concerned," I said.
Oh Merlin, I should shut up. I cringed at the corny reference, but I couldn't help myself. He'd been ignoring me!
The corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly, but other than that, he didn't react at all. "I wouldn't be reading if it wasn't so incredibly boring here. Hogwarts isn't all what everyone claims it to be."
I rolled my eyes. He still hadn't looked directly at me yet. What was with his aversion to eye contact? Pretty rude.
"Scorpius Malfoy." He extended his hand, finally turning his body towards me.
I was a bit shocked at his looks. Okay, understatement. Majorly shocked—but in a good way, definitely. He was lean and muscled, and…probably the most gorgeous guy I'd ever seen. I forced myself not to swallow as I met his eyes. They were gray and…looking quite amused.
Merlin. I needed to stop acting like an idiot. Get a hold of yourself! He's just some random wizard.
"Rose Weasley," I said, shaking his hand and grateful I sounded somewhat normal. "And you're in my spot."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "Your spot?"
His voice was so alluring; it made me want to keep talking just to hear him talk. Hence my meaningless babbling. "Yeah, I've sat here, under this very tree, for the past seven years; and I'm not about to stop just for you."
"What, I'm not special enough for that?" he smirked.
"The specialness of this spot far exceeds you."
"I don't see your name anywhere," he remarked.
I smirked. "Actually," I pointed at the mark above his head. "It's right here."
Rose Weasley.
Victoire had helped me carve it into the tree during First year, when I'd declared this to be my special spot.
Victoire's awesome.
"Wow, I'm impressed," said Scorpius. He grinned, focusing on the same spot as well.
Scorpius Malfoy appeared neatly above my name.
"That's cheating," I declared, crossing my arms.
He smirked. "Oh, there are rules now?"
"For you," I said, smiling.
He laughed. "Why are you here, anyways?"
"I'm not allowed to make a new friend?" I asked.
"We're friends, now? That's rather sudden, isn't it?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm your Hogwarts buddy."
"Ah, the babysitter."
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'd get in trouble if you, let's say, died or something."
He seemed amused. "Don't worry about it."
"I wish. But, apparently I have to spend half an hour a day with you, and you have to report it to my Head of House."
He smirked and his eyes brightened a little. "Sounds like my lucky day."
"I wish I could say the same."
"Oh, we'll see."
The smirk on Scorpius's face didn't change, and he leaned back against the tree, propped an arm behind his head and returned to his book. I stared at the lake for a while (partly to avoid staring at him), but I was just too bored.
Glancing behind us, I spotted a group of girls watching us—watching him—from behind the trees. Very tactlessly and very creepily.
I frowned. "You're so boring." And you attract too many stalkers.
He looked at me, still wearing that expression that annoyed me so much. "Sorry, sweetheart. Not my fault you got paired up with the most boring guy at Beauxbatons."
Oh Merlin. His grin did not make me feel sorry for myself at all.
At all.
"Lucky me."
"You don't have to stay here with me," he shrugged. "I won't drown in the lake."
"We can only hope," I murmured kind of teasingly.
He smiled slightly and looked at his watch. "Looks like your half hour is up, anyways. Don't miss me too much."
I frowned. He made it sound like I had been begging to hang out with him or something. Which, to let you know, I wasn't.
"Great." I got up. "By the way, there's a giant squid in our lake."
He chuckled.
"What's with the Hogwarts hospitality, no kiss good-bye?" he yelled when I was nearly halfway to the other side of the lake, loud enough for practically everyone to hear. Actually, it sounded like he used a Sonorus charm.
Wonderful.
I resisted the urge to turn around and stick my tongue out at him. But I could still hear his laughter as I walked farther away, and I knew I was getting weird looks from people—especially the girls.
Stupid, insanely hot Beauxbatons guy.
Thanks so much for reading! Please, please, please review and let me know what you think! ;D