Ivy Potter lives in an orphanage- oh wait, sorry a 'children's home'- her parents are vegetables in St. Mungo's and the Girl-Who-Lived is a stuck up, constant pain in her arse. She's a ward of the state, is notorious for her anger 'issues' and might be, just might be a homicidal maniac. Unfortunately for Ivy, dark forces are at play and she can no longer sulk about her miserable existence in the dungeons. AU 4th Year Girl!Harry.
Granger was acting oddly.
Well, actually let me rephrase that: Granger was acting odder than normal. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor darling and the 'supposed' brightest witch of her age, was always a bit of a Hogwarts oddball- teacher's pet, bucked teeth, wild hair, was seen in the library more than any other part of the castle, prone to break downs when she did not receive perfect marks or was not called on in class and the most damning thing of all, she willingly hung out with Longbottom on a daily basis. However, this was nothing compared to her strange behavior this year.
There were rumors floating around the castle that the 'Golden Trio' was on the fritz. Granger was spending less and less time with Weasley and Longbottom and more time hiding herself away in different parts of the castle. No longer was she seen near them at mealtimes or sitting with them in class. Instead, she sat as far away as possible, her nose buried in a book or an issue of the Daily Prophet. The weird part was that no one had seen them fight (at least, not publically) and when they did interact, they seemed to be civil with one another.
It was a Hogwarts mystery.
However, this was not the end of Hermione Granger's new found strangeness. The Gryffindor girl was also acting weird towards me.
Every time I entered class or the Great Hall or even the library, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I was used to Dumbledork watching me, so at first I thought it was just him being a creep again. But after a while, when it kept persisting, I decided to search for my stalker and low and behold, I discovered it was Granger after I kept meeting her gaze from across the room.
I hadn't confronted her about it… yet, but I was determined to by the end of the week or if I was too swamped with class work, next week at the latest. Fortunately for Miss Granger, I was distracted by other things.
First, the presence of our 'foreign friends' turned out to be more of a hindrance, than a welcome event for me. The wizarding schools of Durmstrang and Beauxbaton had arrived last week and had thrown Hogwarts and me for a tailspin. Students from both foreign schools clogged up the Great Hall at mealtimes to the point that I felt claustrophobic; the Durmstrang students- specifically that vulture/Quidditch celebrity, Viktor Krum- were constantly on the Quidditch Pitch when I wanted to blow off steam; and some Beauxbaton twits had the audacity to steal my favorite table at the library. If it weren't for Snape's threats to my fellow Slytherins and me to 'play nice,' I would have probably started an international incident by cursing them all into next millennium.
The second distraction was the reintroduction to my Occlumency lessons with my Head of House. I had insisted they were useless- I was way too emotional to handle a magical art that required a great amount of personal control- but my vampire… I mean my mentor was persistent that I had to master it.
"I assume you did not practice very often this summer," he had said after our first lesson, his black eyes narrowing in my direction.
I had scowled at him, while rubbing my temple. I had thrown up false memory after false memory- Longbottom calling me her best friend and giving me a hug, losing a Qudditich match against Hufflepuff, Dumbledore awarding me points for saving the school from dark forces- in an attempt to fight off my mentor's Legilimency attack, but Snape had just ripped through my Occlumency shields like a Muggle bulldozer. Now, he had set his sights on ripping my self-esteem apart. Didn't he ever hear the expression 'don't kick a dog while it's already down?'
"I did practice, professor," I spat. I was always in an awful mood after someone used Legilimency against me, "but it's hard to find privacy and quiet in a home with thirty five other people."
Snape's upper lip had curled, "If you think your enemies will care whether you are in a room with one person or two hundred, you are in for a rude awakening, Miss Potter."
Whenever we were engaged in my Occlumency lessons, Snape always mentioned these supposed 'enemies' that I had and how they should motivate me to work harder. He never mentioned who they were (he was always annoyingly vague), but persisted these people were lurking around the corner. Of course, I thought he was just being paranoid. After all, to my knowledge, the only people in this world who really had it out for me were Callie Longbottom, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and Pansy Parkinson and even I could admit with all my pride that this list was quite laughable in comparison to people such as Dumbledork and the Dark Lord (when he was alive and kicking).
Longbottom's ability to cast curses was mediocre at best, I crushed the Gryffindor Quidditch team on a yearly basis and Pansy Parkinson was so sensitive about her weight that all I had to do was make one 'fat' joke and it was all over. As I said before, it wasn't exactly the most intimidating list of enemies….
Anyway… after Occlumency lessons, I would says that my third and final distraction had to be the presence of the Goblet of Fire.
It had been introduced last week by Dumbledork and company after the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The Goblet- a pretty old and powerful magical object- was to be the 'impartial judge' that chose which idiots with a death wish would get their chance to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.
Of course, that was the only thing anyone could talk about in the castle. Who would enter their name? Who actually had a chance of being selected? Would a younger student get around Dumbledore's age-line?
Of course, I couldn't give a rat's arse about any of that nonsense but to be honest, I was entertained by those who thought they were actually intelligent enough to fool Dumbledore. The Weasley twins had tried an age potion to get around the line- a semi-decent idea. However, it had left them rejected, white haired and bearded. A few Ravenclaws tried to fly over the age line and were shot like corkscrews right into the ceiling. There were also rumors Longbottom and her goon had used a brand new invisibility cloak she had acquired over the summer to get around the line. They did not get far though. To my delight, they had been catapulted backwards by the headmaster's line, making so much racket that they were given several detentions by Filch for being out of bed after hours and had the cloak confiscated.
Speaking of the Goblet of Fire, tonight-which happened to be Halloween- was the night the three champions were to be selected. We had been instructed to remain in the Great Hall after the feast for the announcement, so I settled in, munching on a pumpkin pastry and waited for my Friday night entertainment.
"The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledork said, motioning at the magical object, which was now spouting blue and white flames. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber"- he pointed to the door behind him- "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Excited whispers broke out at the Slytherin table, as the lights in the Great Hall began to dim. Parkinson and Greengrass were chattering about some Diggory bloke, while I overhead Flint bragging to the upper years how he was bound to be selected as the Hogwarts champion based off 'brute strength' and 'superior intelligence.' This had made me snort. Anyone who knew Flint was aware he possessed brain power equivalent to that of the Giant Squid and that was maybe a bit too generous of a comparison.
"Is it over yet?" Davis muttered, while her head rested on the table.
My Slytherin ally had been up late the night before studying for a Divination examination. Just the thought of that woolly branch of magic was enough to make me blanch. You could not get me to touch that codswallop with a ten-foot pole. I was fine in the present, thank you very much.
"Not yet, but it looks like something is happening," I told her as the Goblet of Fire abruptly turned red.
Suddenly, a tongue of flame shot into the air, causing everyone in the room to gasp. A charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it and into Dumbledork's grasp.
"The champion for Durmstrang," his voice echoing through the silent hall, "will be Viktor Krum."
I scowled at the mention of my current, least favorite Durmstrang student. Sure, he was stupendous on a broom- there was certainly no denying that- but I did not think it warranted him and his fan group acting as if they owned the castle. Not only was he irritating on the Pitch, but every time he entered the library, it was a huge nuisance for those who actually wanted to study. His groupies snagged pictures, begged for autographs and hovered around his table like a bunch of flies around a pile of shite. And the worst part was that all this fanfare was over a boy who resembled a giant vulture. I did not see the appeal at all. Did they all want children with big noses and prominent slouches? Was that the rage these days?
After the applause for the bird-man died down, the Goblet spit out another piece of parchment.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
A beautiful witch with long, silvery blonde hair rose from between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table. I noticed the boys around us were gaping at the Delacour girl as if she was an oasis in the middle of a desert. It made me want to sneer in disgust.
"This is why females are the superior gender," I told Davis, who was shaking her head at the boys in the room. "Our brains aren't connected to a cock."
After Delacour disappeared into the side chamber behind the staff table, the Goblet turned red again and this time, it showered sparks as another piece of parchment floated out of the flames and into Dumbledork's hand. He read the name and a distinct frown marred his usual jovial face.
"The champion for Hogwarts," he called, "is Ivy Potter."
There was no applause and instead, whispers began to buzz around the Great Hall. People were staring at me, wondering how a fourth year had managed to get her name into the Goblet of Fire. Suddenly, boos broke out from the Gryffindor side of the room and the Slytherin table, despite their general dislike for me, rose to the occasion and began to applaud on my behalf. Even though I was a filthy half-blood, our House was too proud to have one of their own embarrassed in front of the entire school.
"What the actual fuck," I muttered to Davis, who looked at me as if I grew a second head.
"Did you enter?" she whispered back urgently to me.
"Of course I didn't enter, don't be bloody ridiculous," I hissed, panic rising up in me. There was no way I was competing in this death trap, especially when I did not even sign up for it. It would be one thing if I actually put my name in the Goblet, I would deserve what I got, but this was unfair. I did nothing to earn this fate.
"Ivy Potter!" Dumbledore shouted my name again over the applause and boos, but I sat where I was. I refused to be a part of their stupid, death game. I preferred living much better.
"I didn't sign up for this rubbish," I informed the headmaster loudly, drawing gasps from the student body at my audacity to use such disparaging language in front of the staff, headmaster and members of the Ministry of Magic who had come to watch the selection process. "Clearly, there has been a mistake. Pick another name- there are older students who want to compete much more than me- and please just leave me alone. I want nothing to do with this bloody tournament."
A new wave of whispers spread throughout the Great Hall, analyzing what I had just said. Hopefully, I got the students from the other Houses on my side. Those prejudiced duffers definitely did not want an 'evil' Slytherin champion to represent Hogwarts. Plus, I was offering another chance, a re-do of the sorts to those who actually put their names in the Goblet. It was a win-win for everyone.
"I'm afraid that this is impossible, Miss Potter," an elderly man with a curt voice told me. He wore a crisp, black robe and had perfectly cut grey hair and a toothbrush mustache. I recognized him as one of the Ministry goons, Barty Crouch. He was in the Daily Prophet often, since he held the head position of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He had planned the disastrous Quidditch World Cup in August and this monstrosity during the school year. I already knew I did not like him- too straight edged. "You must compete in the Triwizard Tournament or face dire consequences."
Dire consequences? Well, shite.
More boos filled the Great Hall and I could not help, but smirk. At least, I had gotten Hogwarts on my side. I was concerned- besides about the whole potential dying thing- that I would be the outcast of the school for this blunder, but it seemed the other students did not want me competing as much as I did. Of course, I should probably be insulted they despised me and the Slytherin House to this extent, but I cared too much about saving my own skin to give a damn… I had my priorities.
Dumbledork was probably displeased I managed to garner this much support from the student body because he yelled again, "Miss Potter!"
I sighed and stood up. I would play along in their little dog and pony show for now but after getting my instructions about the First Task, I would be heading straight to the library. I was curious to see if these 'dire consequences' Mr. Crouch mentioned were all that dire or if it was a bunch of Ministry hyped-up hogwash.
I got a smattering of applause throughout the room as I made my way towards the staff table. Even the Gryffindors, with all their outward hatred of my House, had a few people clapping on my behalf. I passed by Dumbledore, who was still frowning, but I paid him no heed. The only person I cared about at the staff table was Snape.
My mentor was scowling deeply- no surprise there, since that was his usual facial expression- but what was not normal was that his obsidian eyes were crackling with fury. He did not look at me while I passed, but instead focused the heat of his gaze at Dumbledore's back. Usually, Snape was civil with the headmaster but I guessed in this situation, he was miffed Dumbledork had not argued with Crouch on my behalf. The oaf had just stood there while some Ministry goon forced one of his underaged students to compete in this death match. It was quite ridiculous, even in Dumbledork terms.
Soon after, I passed through the door behind the teachers' table and found myself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards who were all staring at me unabashedly. They were probably expecting someone much taller and older to be entering the room instead of a 5'3, fourteen year old. I glared at them in response, which made most turn away besides a few of the haughtier women in the portraits, who sneered in response- they were probably past Slytherins. Across the room from the portraits, flames were burning in the fireplace. Next to it stood the other two champions, Viktor Krum and the hot French girl- Fleur Delacour. They were gathered around the fire and staring broodingly into it.
Fun crowd.
"What is it?" the Beauxbatons champion said in her thick French accent, when she finally noticed my approach. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
I scoffed. I wished I was just Dumbledore's messenger girl, "I'm the Hogwarts champion," I informed the girl, who frowned. Krum, who did not bother looking up at me while I approached, now straightened up and surveyed me through dark eyes. I stared right back at him. The vulture would not intimidate me.
"Vairy funny, little girl," the blonde said, though she was not smiling. "Now, what is ze message?"
"I'm serious," I growled, offended that she had just called me a 'little girl.' If I ended up being forced to compete in this shite, I would show that blonde twit who was really the 'little' one by the time this tournament was over. "I- am- the- Hogwarts- champion… Do you understand what I am saying? Or should I repeat myself for the third time?"
Before the French girl could reply to my- admittedly- rude questions, I heard the door open again and turned around. Someone was coming down the hallway. When they stepped into the light of the fireplace, I saw that it was Longbottom, her heart shaped face was pale, but she had a confident smile on her face as she approached us.
"Potter," she spat.
"Longbottom," I returned, not bothering to hide my sneer. "What are you doing here?"
However, again we were interrupted. This time before my adversary could reply, a big man with blonde hair and rosy cheeks had entered the room. He had a wide grin on his face and as soon as he spotted the Girl-Who-Accidentally-Lived, he began to beam down at her as if she was God's gift to Earth. I already knew I was going to despise this man.
"Extraordinary," he muttered, squeezing Longbottom's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Ladies… gentleman," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the three of us. "May I introduce- incredible though it may seem- the fourth Triwizard champion!"
"You're JOKING!" I yelled, my voice coming out a lot louder than I intended it to.
I glared at Longbottom, who looked very smug at the attention she was receiving from this buffoon. It was bad enough that I had to participate in this shite against my will, but now my arch-nemesis was going to be my competition? If there was a God, he was sure to be laughing at me right now.
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Callidora's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Fleur frowned again and I continued to glare, while Krum's caterpillar eyebrows rose slightly. It was the first display of emotion besides the constant state of surliness that I had seen the Durmstrang student exhibit since he arrived at Hogwarts.
"But evidently 'zair 'as been a mistake," the French witch said contemptuously to the blonde haired Wizard. "Ze little girls cannot compete. Zey is too young."
I nodded along with the girl, though I was holding back a wave of anger at the second 'little girl comment… when I was done with this bitch….
"Delacour's right," I said. "Your Goblet is clearly broken. There shouldn't be one underage witch competing in this competition, let alone two."
"Well… it is amazing," said the wizard, running his chin and smiling down at Longbottom. "But, as you know the age restriction was only imposed as an extra safety measure. And since both Miss Longbottom's and Miss Potter's names came out of the Goblet, there is little we can do after that… They both can't duck out. It's in the rules…. They'll just have to do your best—"
The wizard was cut off by the entrance of a large group of people: Dumbledork, the Ministry prat from before, the heads of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, McGonagal and Snape. Smiles were noticeably absent from all their faces and I felt my toes curl in my trainers. Longbottom and I were in for a lecture.
However, instead of attacking both of us, the other two heads first went after Dumbledork. It was wonderful seeing our 'perfect' headmaster taken down a peg or two by the foreign wizard and witch. If I wasn't so bloody pissed off for having my name come out of the Goblet, I would have been smiling. Unfortunately, the bickering amongst the adults did not last long because the attention was soon turned back to Longbottom and me.
"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked, x-raying me with those creepy blue eyes of his.
"Don't be ridiculous," I told my headmaster and heard the portrait rattling behind me. My anger was growing from the repeat accusation. "I already told you in the Great Hall- I want nothing to do with this death trap. I don't want to be a competitor. I don't want to be a spectator. I don't even want to follow it in the papers. All I want is to have one school year, just one, that does not involve me having my life threatened at Hogwarts."
"Miss Potter-" my headmaster tried to cut in, but I kept going.
"I don't know why that's such a difficult concept at this school. Maybe if I want to be educated in peace, I should just transfer to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang." I turned to Krum and Delacour, "Could you tell me what's the Basilisk situation over at your schools? Do you have any mass murderers roaming the halls? Oh wait, here's a good one- what about Dark Lords? Or demento-"
"Miss Potter," Dumbledore interrupted me a second time, now looking annoyed, "I think that is quite enough. You have already answered my question adequately."
I rolled my eyes, "I just wanted to get the message to stick, professor. It seems everything a Slytherin says is taken with a grain of salt at this school. I don't want anyone doubting my truthfulness in this situation."
There was a bit of awkward silence in the room. I don't think Dumbledore and McGonagall appreciated me revealing our school's biases in front of our foreign visitors. To rectify the situation, the headmaster decided to turn the attention away from me and onto his golden girl, "Callie, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"No, sir," Longbottom replied, the embodiment of the model student- no back talk, no long disrespectful rants, no revealing embarrassing school secrets. Merlin, I hated her.
I scoffed and found that I was joined by Professor Snape. Anyone with half a brain knew Longbottom wanted to be in this tournament just as much as any upper year. She just got caught the other night trying to put her name in the Goblet for Merlin's sake! I did not know how much more evidence Dumbledork needed to punish Longbottom for being an attention seeking brat.
"Did you ask an older student to put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" the headmaster asked his golden child.
I almost started spluttering at the question. That was the grand solution to the 'invincible' age line? All an underaged student had to do was get an older one to do their bidding? Now that it was revealed, I could not believe how truly easy it would have been for everyone at Hogwarts to skirt around the age restriction. It was no matter why this school had so many issues. It was run by a complete moron.
"No, sir," Callie insisted. "I swear it."
Her tone was strangely vehement and I wondered if it was because Longbottom was an excellent liar or that she had truly not managed not to submit her name. I looked closer at the Girl-Who-Loved-The-Spotlight and noticed she was still pale and her body seemed oddly tense. Longbottom usually basked in attention. It was her lifeblood. The Gryffindor never, ever shied away from it. Did she finally realize the mess she had gotten herself into? Or had Longbottom really not entered the tournament?
There was more arguing, which at this point was more annoying than entertaining. I decided to check my watch to see how much time had passed and saw that it was 9:26, making me frown. I was anxious to get down to the library before it closed for the night. I had research on the tournament to do. There had to be a loophole in that rule book somewhere…
"I have a half a mind to leave now!" Someone had bellowed, snapping me back to attention.
The shouter turned out Durmstrang's headmater- Carrot-something- and he looked pissed off. Across from him was Professor Moody- when had he limped onto the scene?- who was glaring right back at the foreign wizard.
"Empty threat, Igor Karkaroff," he growled. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said." A binding magical contract? Damnit, I really need to stop zoning out. "Convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" Igor 'not a carrot' Karkaroff repeated. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Durmstrang's headmaster tried to act all high and mighty, as if Moody was barely above his notice, just an annoying fly he wanted to swat, but his hands gave him away. They were balled into fists and trembling slightly.
Wimp.
"Don't play dumb, Karkaroff," Moody continued. "We both know someone put Longbottom's name in that goblet knowing she'd have to compete if it came out."
Uh oh, I knew where this was going. Moody was uncovering another half-brained Girl-Who-Lived assassination plot.
Last year, Sirius Black had broken out of Azkaban to finish Longbottom off for his dead master. Two years ago, a giant basilisk almost devoured my nemesis whole. And finally, three years ago, it was rumored our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, had tried to off the Gryffindor at the end of the school year.
Of course, those two idiots and the snake could not get their act together and all three of these 'plots' had ended with Callie being hailed as the hero and Dumbledork kissing her arse more than usual. What usually followed after that was a disgraceful display of favoritism at the final feast with Slytherin's hard work all year flushed down the toilet in order for Dumbledore's precious Gryffindors to get their moment in the sun.
Since this has occurred three years in a row, I think a lot of my House mates would agree with me that we just wanted people to stop trying to kill Callie Longbottom- at least for one year- so we could finally get the House Cup we rightly deserved.
But I digress… Karkaroff was ranting again and I was probably missing some riveting stuff.
"-I shall be lodging a complaint with Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards-"
Or not… Karkaroff was still as boring as a tube of bulboter puss.
"The only one who should be complaining is Longbottom," Moody growled, ignoring my look of indignation. Typical… "She has to compete in tasks beyond her magical skill level. She could die in this tournament."
I glanced over at the Girl-Who-Could-Do-No-Wrong and noticed she was paler than before. I guessed Moody's words were frightening her and I did not blame her. At least I was talented for my year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It could give me a bit (and that was a generous assessment) of a survival advantage over my fellow fourth year. But what did Longbottom excel in? Herbology? That was laughable in comparison. She was doomed.
After a tense silence, Moody went onto explain his theory about how Longbottom's name had been entered in the Goblet of Fire. This was all well and good, but he didn't provide any answers for me. How did a piece of parchment with my name fall into the cup in the first place? Was it an awful prank? Or was something more sinister going on?
There was more arguing. It got to its worst when Moody clearly insinuated to the room that Karkaroff had been a dark wizard at some point- when the Durmstrang headmaster turned red with guilt, I filed this away for later- and then, Dumbledore finally stepped in, returning order.
"Would you like to give our champions their instructions, Barty?" he asked the mustached man, who was observing the arguments in the corner. I looked closely at the ministry official. At the feast, he seemed normal but now, he appeared to be paler than Longbottom.
It must have been that weird French pudding…
"Yes… yes the instructions," he muttered and motioned for the four champions to surround him. I stood as far away as possible just in case he was going to vomit all over us. "The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important."
I gagged; that all sounded disgustingly Gryffindor to me.
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges," I got an audience when I died? How delightful. "The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks. The champions will only be armed with their wands. After they complete the first task," I snorted at the probability of that occurring, but was ignored, "they will receive information about the second task. Since this tournament is time-consuming and demanding, champions will be exempt from end-of-the-year tests."
I perked up at that. Finally, there was a benefit to participating in this death trap. Maybe things were turning around for old Ivy Potter… oh wait, I nearly forgot I still had to bloody survive to see the end-of-the-year tests being administered. Bullocks.
Shortly after the instructions were done being given out, we were dismissed by Dumbledore. Professor Snape accompanied me out of the room and towards the dungeons. Once we were out of earshot of the other champions, I asked him, knowing now it was too late for a trip to the library, "So, is there any way out of this tournament? Dragon pox? A disability? Anything?"
My mentor shook his head, "Unfortunately, you have just entered a binding magical contract with the Goblet of Fire, Miss Potter," he told me, sounding frustrated. "This means if you do not compete, your magic will be stripped away from you, leaving you a Squib."
I could not help but shudder as I thought of the only Squib I knew- Argus Filch. As a result of his non-magical state, the Hogwarts caretaker had an inferior-complex the size of Great Britain. He was constantly trying to get the best of the students at Hogwarts most likely because he was jealous we were able to perform magic, while he was not. There was no way in hell I was turning into him. I knew I would rather throw myself off the Astronomy Tower than spend the rest of my days mopping the castle and cuddling a creepy cat.
"I might die, though," I muttered.
"Yes, that is a possibility," Snape admitted.
"Thanks, you're really comforting."
"If you would prefer me to lie to you, Miss Potter, I am more than capable of doing that too," Snape informed me coldly.
I shook my head, "Since you're the only one around here who cares if I live or die during this bloody tournament, I prefer you don't."
"Good-" Snape began, but was interrupted by the presence of a new comer.
Granger entered the hallway, slumped over slightly towards her right side to compensate for her bulging messenger bag on her shoulder. In her hands was a small mountain of books that nearly obscured her vision. The titles of the books ranged from 'Modern Wizarding British Law' to 'Magical Traditions Through the Ages.' I assumed she had just been chased out of the library by Madam Prince before lights out and was now making her long trek back to the Gryffindor Common Room. The bushy haired girl was not looking up from the books in front of her face, muttering nonsense under her breath- probably reciting something nerdy like the library catalogue- and failed to notice Snape or me until we were three feet away from her.
"Oh," she breathed, her brown eyes widening. The girl clearly had thought she was alone. When the Gryffindor noticed that my own green eyes were focused on her so intently- I had not forgotten about her odd behavior lately- her face started to redden. She probably felt guilty about stalking me the last few weeks.
"Granger," I greeted shortly. I would keep this short and to the point. "Meet me at the back table in the library at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow. Do not be late. We have much to discuss."
"What-" she began, but my stony gaze and Snape's presence must have made her think twice before starting an argument since she quickly muttered, "Fine, I'll see you then, Ivy."
The Gryffindor girl said goodnight to the Potions Master- who coldly ignored her, which was typical behavior from my favorite vampire-professor- and then, scurried down the hallway, not even bothering to look back. Once she was out of sight, Snape turned to me, his eyebrows raised slightly.
"Should I be concerned?" my mentor asked me. He was well aware Hermione Granger and I never interacted on amiable terms since our First Year at Hogwarts. For me to willing put myself in the muggle-born's presence meant something out of the ordinary was occurring.
I waved him off, "Don't worry, I won't curse her. We just have a few things to discuss."
"If you say so," he said as we descended the stairs into the dungeons. Snape must have decided Hermione Granger was not important enough to discuss because he turned back to the Triwizard Tournament drama. "What did you notice in that room?"
I knew he was testing me about what I had observed during the Moody-Karkaroff-Dumbledore-Beauxbatons giant-lady argument. From the moment I met him four years ago, Snape had stressed to me the 'power of observation.' He frequently insisted, 'The power of observation can be just as valuable as your wand,' and when I did fail to pick important points up during social situations, I could guarantee myself a detention the next day. Tonight, I was determined not to land myself in a situation where I would be washing toad guts out of my hair the next day.
"Karkaroff was definitely a dark wizard at some point. It wasn't hard to see that he was terrified of Moody," I said, remembering the headmaster's bright red face and shaking hands.
"Yes, Karkaroff was one of the Dark Lord's followers, during the war," Snape told me, nodding in approval. "Moody caught him, which was why he was so on edge. What else?"
My adversary's pale face and tense body filled my vision.
"Longbottom was frightened," I said. "She tried to act confident, but I saw right through her…. I'm not sure she entered the tournament…"
Snape nodded again, "I suspected the same," he told me. "Anything else?"
I continued, "Moody didn't seem to give two shites how my name turned up in the Goblet. That entire time, all of his attention was focused on Longbottom… I thought that was strange."
"What do you deduce about that, Miss Potter?"
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, "Um… maybe Dumbledore brought him onto staff to protect Longbottom. It would explain his overt interest in her."
"A possibility…." Snape murmured and looked up. We were now standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.
"Where do I go from here?" I asked my mentor, covering up a yawn. It had been a long night.
"Research," Snape advised simply. "There must be a pattern with the First Tasks throughout the centuries. Find it and we'll go from there."
"We?" I echoed, raising my eyebrows slightly. "Crouch said I can't accept help from teachers."
My professor scoffed, "Ignorance does not suit you, Miss Potter. Do you really believe there has never been cheating involved in this tournament?" I opened my mouth to argue, but Snape plowed on, "When the three biggest wizarding schools in the world come together, they'll resort to any means to topple one another… Of course, Professor Dumbledore is too honorable," he sneered at the word, "to use such tactics, but do not underestimate Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. It would not astonish me if they were already starting to form strategies tonight."
Tonight? Jeez, and I thought they would at least celebrate a little….
"Well, the only strategy I need is a survival strategy," I told Professor Snape firmly. "I couldn't care less about winning…. In fact, they can keep their one thousand galleons, if I get to keep my life."
Snape nodded.
"For once, Miss Potter, I have to say that I agree with you wholeheartedly," my mentor told me, a grim look of determination etched onto his sallow face. "Getting you through this tournament alive will be my number one priority this year."
I felt my face warm at the sentiment. It was not often when an adult cared enough to make me a priority, let alone their biggest one. Sure, I was important to adults like the head of the orphanage- a legal obligation-, Dr. Thomas- because he cared about getting paid by the state- and my Ministry sponsor, Ted Tonks- again another legal obligation. But, I was never the most important person in their lives. Those three adults had families to care for, money to make and jail time to avoid. In the end, I meant nothing to them beyond their obligations to society.
"Thanks," I muttered, confused about the rush of emotion that was still filling my chest.
Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. He was never the best with emotional situations.
"My second priority is finding out who put your name in the Goblet of Fire," he told me. "Whoever it was clearly had no well wishes for you."
"So, you don't think it was a prank?" I asked.
Snape pursed his lips, "That would make everything a lot more simple but unfortunately, I don't think the Goblet of Fire would have picked you if your name had been mixed in normally with the other Hogwarts students… You are decently talented in some areas- I will admit that- but let's not delude ourselves into believing you would out perform a 6th or 7th year. Your magic is not even close to being on par with them at this point in your education…
No… whoever did this was aware you would not be selected as Hogwarts champion without some convincing. They were probably a very powerful witch or wizard to hoodwink the Goblet of Fire into choosing you."
"That eliminates a lot of people in this castle," I muttered. "Most of the student body would be out, right?" Snape nodded. "So, that only leaves the professors, the Ministry goons who have been wandering out the castle lately and our foreign guests."
"Trust no one," Snape advised me sternly. "If you must speak with an adult alone make sure Miss Davis or another student is informed. Do not wander the castle grounds at night. Do not take unnecessary risk. Do not do anything to put your life in jeopardy until I figure out who wants you dead."
"Dead?" I repeated, shocked that anyone cared enough to try to eliminate me from this Earth. "Someone wants me dead? What have I ever done to deserve that? I'm not the bloody Girl-Who-Lived."
Professor Snape scoffed, "I thought that fact would have been obvious, Miss Potter. Why else would they enter you in a tournament with such a high death toll?"
"I… I just didn't think I was important enough to be a part of an assassination plot," I told him, my mind whirling. "I'm Ivy Potter. I didn't defeat any dark lords. I don't stick my nose in anyone's business. I'm a nobody!"
"Clearly you are not a nobody to somebody," Snape said, sneering at the idea. "That's why I implore to you that you must be vigilant at all times and if you think you are in trouble, come to me first, no one else."
I nodded, though my thoughts were still scattered. It was a lot to take in.
"Now, go back inside your Common Room and get a good rest. You'll need a lot of energy to get through the next three weeks."
Three weeks? That's all I had until the First Task? Merlin, I was screwed.
"Okay, sir," I told him, wringing my hands traitorously behind my back, but hoping that I hid the panic from my voice sufficiently. "Thanks again."
Snape shook his head, "Don't bother to thank me until you live to see the end of this school year, Miss Potter."
After my mentor left, I had a night that was one of the oddest I had ever had in the presence of the other Slytherins. People who normally turned their nose up at the 'filthy half-blood' congratulated me, wanted to talk to me and even shook my hand. These people offered to serve as my tutor for the tournament, wanted to introduce me to their family's business associates and one particularly off-beat first year even asked for my autograph.
The sudden shift in behavior from my fellow snakes was overwhelming. Now, don't get me wrong, it was better than getting cursed in the Common Room and called every swear word in the book. But after three full years of being treated like scum, I could not wrap my mind around the idea of being treated as an equal amongst the Slytherins.
Unfortunately, neither could my ally, Tracey Davis.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself down there," she muttered after I finally managed to escape the crowd to take refuge in my dormitory.
The brunette, who left after the Slytherins began swarming, was scowling at me from her four-poster bed and could not even look me in the eye, instead settling for the wall to my right. She glared at the space as if she wanted to set it on fire.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked her, my eyes narrowing. I expected her to be pleased our status in the House had taken a sharp turn upward, not miserable and angry.
"Admit it Potter, you were happy to receive all their attention," Davis spat. "You looked like bloody Longbottom down there with all your fan-girls."
My eyes widened. Her words stung and I felt as if they were imprinted across my face like a slap. Sure, Davis and I got into quarrels every now and then, but never with words that cut this deep. Even at my angriest, I would never, ever compare her to Callidora Longbottom. It was equivalent to blasphemy between the two of us. Hating Longbottom was one of the cornerstones to our alliance. If Davis considered me as low as her, how could we possibly continue to work together?
The worst part about the entire thing was that after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, Davis was only person at Hogwarts I could count on to treating me normally during this tournament. Now, my ally was treating me as if I was the reincarnate of Morgan le Fay herself.
"Ohhh… I'm terribly sorry that I wanted to enjoy the one moment when my House mates didn't want to tear out my guts for existing," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Next time I receive positive attention, I'll check in to see if it's alright with you first. I wouldn't want you turning into a raging, jealous bitch again."
"I'm not jealous!" Davis shouted.
"You sure are acting like it!" I snapped back, feeling my temper rise. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know I was surrounded by arse kissers downstairs who are faker than Filch's magical talent?" The mirror in the corner began to rattle. "Don't take me for a fool, Davis. I'm a Slytherin for a reason. I can see right through people, just like you can… And, you wanna' know what? Right now, all I see in front of me is an immature twit, who is jealous that her friend's in the spotlight for once, while she's on the sidelines." The mirror was now fracturing down the center. "You're acting bloody pathetic!"
CRACK!
The mirror shattered into thousands of shards of glass, covering the floor and creating a hazardous obstacle on the path to our dormitory's loo. Knowing that Parkinson would throw a fit when she entered the room if the glass was still there, I snatched my wand off my bedside table and with more vicious force than necessary, cast a 'Reparo' to fix the damages.
Once I had finished, I turned back to Davis's four-poster- ready to continue my argument- and saw that her curtains had already been drawn. I rolled my eyes. If she wanted to act like a baby, I would let her. I had no time to deal with her drama. I had a tournament to survive.
But, as I drew my curtains to go to bed, I knew I would not be able to get the amount of rest Snape wanted me to. I could only think of the person lying in the bed next to mine and knew from the lack of her usual soft snores, Tracey was probably doing the same exact thing.
This sucked.
Thanks for the feedback to those who reviewed. I appreciate any advice I can get to make this story better. The plot for this story has been set in motion, so we'll see where it goes from here. Thanks for reading!