DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN EITHER FMA OR HARRY POTTER!
Chapter Seven
Nearly Headless Nick watched as Ed, Winry, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ate their dinners.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potatoes.
"Ew, didn't your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" asked Winry.
Ron's ears turned red with embarrassment as Hermione smirked and Harry grinned. Ed grinned as well.
"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick.
"What do you mean?" Winry asked the ghost.
"There was trouble in the kitchens earlier," said Nick.
"Wha' 'appened?" Harry asked, through a sizable chunk of steak.
Winry looked at Harry in disgust. Couldn't boys just swallow before talking like Ed did? She looked at Ed. Then again, Ed only ate half-way decent because he was berated in school for his sloppy eating as a kid.
"Peeves, of course," said Nick, getting Winry's attention.
Ed looked at Nick as well. He swallowed his food with a drink of pumpkin juice.
"You mean the one who threw those water balloons at us?" asked Ed.
"That's him," said 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 counsel - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."
Ed and Winry looked over the Slytherin table and at the Bloody Baron. He was a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He, apparently, was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.
"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron said darkly.
"How did the Bloody Baron get so bloody?" asked Winry.
"No one really knows," said Hermione.
"So, what did Peeves do in the kitchens?" Ron asked Nick.
"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 - ."
Clang.
Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feel of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.
"There are house-elves here?" Hermione asked, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"
"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."
"What's a house-elf?" asked Winry.
"Come on, Winry," Ed said, taking a bite of his steak and then eating it. "You know what one is. Don't you remember when you came over to our house once when Mom was still alive? You saw a plate of milk on the floor and asked what it was. Mom told you that it was for the house-elf that helped keep the place up a bit."
"Oh, I remember," said Winry.
"I've never heard of house-elves wanting milk," said Harry.
"Well, in some folklore, if you don't leave some milk for a house-elf, the house-elf will cause mischief," said Hermione. "But that's a different - ."
"We're from a small village in Germany, a very small one," said Ed.
Hermione turned to Nearly Headless Nick.
"I've never seen one here!" said Hermione.
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick.
"They don't?" asked Winry.
"No, they come out at night to do a lot of cleaning…see to the fires and so on…I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"
"I guess that's true," said Winry. "What do you think, Ed?"
Ed shrugged.
"But, they get paid?" asked Hermione. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"
Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck. Ed and Winry pushed their food away, losing both their appetites again.
"Sick leave and pensions?" Nick said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pension!"
"How do you know they don't?" asked Winry.
"Because doing that work makes them happy," said Nick. "If you didn't get paid for what you loved to do, would you still do it?"
"Of course I would!" said Winry. "Edward?"
"You know I would, Winry," said Ed.
Hermione, though, disagreed. She looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.
"Oh, c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops - sorry, 'Arry -." He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"
"As disgusting as Ron is," said Winry, "he's got a point, Hermione."
"It's slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."
And she refused to eat another bite.
The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, making Winry cringe, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.
"Oh, come on, Hermione, you're being ridiculous," said Winry, as she watched Ed get some pudding for himself. "Starving yourself won't help them."
Hermione gave Winry a glare that matched Professor McGonagall's.
"If you think that's going to make me scared or something, it's not going to work," said Winry. "You're just being stupid."
Harry and Ron almost choked on their puddings and looked at Winry in shock. Hermione was stunned as well. No one had called Hermione stupid before! Ed snickered to himself.
"Excuse me?" asked Hermione.
"You heard me," said Winry. "Starving yourself is stupid. I'm sure a lot of starving people would love to eat what was on your plate."
"Don't give me that lecture!" said Hermione, blushing with anger.
"I can, and I just have," said Winry.
Winry and Hermione glared at each other. When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione; "Baby," Winry muttered) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. We have two new students this year. They are transfers from Gesundheit Theoretical Wizarding Institute, and will be fifth years. Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell, please stand."
Ed and Winry stood as everyone looked at them as Dumbledore motioned towards them. Then Ed and Winry sat down a moment later, and everyone looked back at Dumbledore.
"Mr. Elric, you will have to start wearing your uniform tomorrow," said Dumbledore, Ed blushing in embarrassment as a few people snickered and laughed. "Back to the notices. 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."
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. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"What?" Harry gasped, looking at Fred and George, the two brothers that Winry had seen on the platform while Ed slept.
Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older twin brothers, were Harry's fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore 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 teacher's time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts - ."
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Winry jumped as she, Ed, and everyone else looked towards the doors. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk toward the teachers' table.
A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione and Winry gasped.
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Ed had ever seen. Sure, he had seen some people who were scarred by the Eastern Rebellion and Ishvallan War, but none like the man who had lowered his hood. The face of the man looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.
"Disgusting," Ed muttered.
"I'll say," said Winry.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words that no one else could hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore asked brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
Only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped for Moody, but it was a quick applause.
"Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"
"Must be," Ron said in a low, awed voice.
"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"
"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.
"Who is he?" Ed asked Ron.
"He's an Auror, a Dark Wizard catcher," said Ron. "But he's retired now. I guess he's come out so he could teach us."
"What happened to the other Defense teachers?" asked Winry.
"The post is cursed," said Harry. "Our first one had Voldemort on the back of his head and died, the second was a fake and had his memory swiped clean, and our third one was the best and resigned."
"Why?" asked Ed. "What was wrong with him?"
"He's a werewolf," said Ron.
"A werewolf?" asked Ed. "You mean like from the supposed scary movies?"
"Sort of," said Hermione, "but he's a good person."
"Huh," said Ed, looking back at Moody.
Moody reached into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Ed saw, below the table several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.
"I thought so," Winry said.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at Winry.
"You thought so what?" asked Ron.
"His left leg," said Winry. "I thought that it was a fake. I could tell by the sound it made when he was walking."
"How could you tell just by the sound?" asked Harry.
"My Grandmother has a prosthetics business," said Winry. "And my parents were doctors."
"What kind of doctors?" asked Hermione.
"Surgeons, but they were killed when I was a little girl," said Winry. "So, I'm an orphan."
Before Hermione could express her condolences, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, "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."
"You're JOKING!" Fred Weasley loudly said.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore 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…"
Professor McGonagall loudly cleared her throat.
"Er - but maybe this is not the time…no…," Dumbledore said, "where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
"The Triwizard was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed.
"Seems so," said Ed.
"What people would give up just to play in some sort of game," said Winry.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Department 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.
"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'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches.
The Hall erupted in excited whispers. But Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, "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. This" - Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." 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.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. Ed put his hands on either side of his plate and stood up from his seat. He stretched. Then Ed looked at Winry.
"You coming, Winry?" Ed asked Winry. "Or do you wanna listen to their whining?"
Ed indicated the Weasley twins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Winry got up from her seat and went with Ed. As Hermione watched Ed and Winry leave with the crowd to go to Gryffindor tower, she couldn't help but to notice the insignia on the back of Ed's red trench coat.
'Where have I seen that symbol before?' thought Hermione.
