Disclaimer: In the words of Neville Longbottom, '…when Hell freezes over.'
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Tournament
Lizzie's POV
The Start-of-Term Feast
The carriages finally came to stop at Hogwarts. We left our carriages, heads bent, and sprinted up the steps, into the Entrance Hall.
"Merlin, I'm bloody well soaked, and I've only been outside for ten minutes," Rhiannon said, wiping her hair out of her eyes.
"Join the club," I muttered. I love the rain, but this is bloody ridiculous.
"ARGH!" Henri yelled, and she and Ginny knocked into Rhee and me. A large, yellow water balloon dropped from the ceiling and burst on Henri's shoulder. We all looked up.
"PEEVES!" we yelled simultaneously. He chucked two balloons into our direction. We dived out of the way, and into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was decorated for the start-of-term feast as usual. There were hundreds and hundreds of lit candles. We walked past the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaws, and sat down next to Alex Branton and Luke Delaney.
"So, how was your summer?" Alex asked.
"Great. Went to the World Cup. You?" I said, emptying my shoes of water, and wringing out my socks. Damn poltergeist.
"Yeah, I went too. What did you think of the Death Eaters turning up?"
"Positively terrifying," I said with a straight face.
"Really?" Luke asked.
"No," I said, with a laugh, "'course not. Though they could've picked a more decent time to wake the entire campsite up."
"Too true," Alex agreed. "How about you, Rhiannon?"
"She did the same as Lizzie did," Luke said. "Inseparable, they are."
"How'd you know?" Rhiannon asked teasingly.
"Lucky guess," Luke answered, with a slight smile.
"Well, that's not fair, is it?" Rhiannon asked, playfully.
"Why?" Luke asked.
"Aren't all Irish lucky?" Rhiannon said, but she got no further.
The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall strode in with drenched first years following in her wake. All were shivering as they lined up in front of the High Table, and faced the rest of the school. The smallest of the lot was wearing Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. He looked like he was Colin's younger brother. McGonagall placed the three-legged stool down, and placed the Sorting Hat upon it. The first years stared at it. Then, a tear near the brim opened like a mouth, and the Hat broke into song:
"A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favourites from the throng,
Yet how to choose the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!'
The Great Hall burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished. McGonagall unrolled a large scroll of parchment.
"When I call out your name, you will put on the Hat, and sit on the stool," she instructed the first years. "When the Hat announces your house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.
"Ackerley, Stewart!"
A boy walked forward, visibly shaking from head to toe. He put the Hat on, and sat on the stool.
"Ravenclaw!" the Hat shouted.
Ackerley took the Hat off, and scurried over to the Ravenclaw table, who were applauding loudly.
"Baddock, Malcolm!"
"Slytherin!"
Fred and George hissed as Baddock sat down. Literally.
"Branstone, Eleanor!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Cauldwell, Owen!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Creevey, Dennis!"
The boy who I assumed to be Colin's brother stepped forward. Hagrid slipped into the Hall, and sat at the staff table.
"Gryffindor!"
Hagrid clapped with the rest of us. Dennis took the Hat off, and placed it back on the stool. He joined his brother.
"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat."
"Cool!" Colin said, just as excited. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"
"Wow!" Dennis said, as though nobody in their wildest dream could hope for a more 'exciting' way to arrive at school.
"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"
"Dobbs, Emma!"
"Ravenclaw!"
The line slowly diminished as McGonagall reached the 'M's.
"Madley, Laura!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"McDonald, Natalie!"
"Gryffindor!"
"I'm starving," Rhiannon moaned.
"I know, me too," I said.
"You two are always hungry," Henri said.
"And your point is?" I asked.
"I have none," Henri said.
"Pritchard, Graham!"
"Slytherin!"
"Quirke, Orla!"
"Ravenclaw!"
Finally, with 'Whitby, Kevin!' who was made a Hufflepuff, the Sorting finished. McGonagall picked up the Hat and the stool, and took them away.
Dumbledore got to his feet. He smiled, and his arms opened wide in welcome.
"I only have two words to say to you," he said to us. "Tuck in."
"About bloody time!" Rhiannon and I exclaimed simultaneously. We loaded our plates with everything we liked, and had finished before Henri and Ginny even started.
"I swear you two are worse than boys sometimes. No offence," she added to Alex and Luke.
"None taken," Alex said, loading his plate at the same pace as Henri.
"Fanks," I managed to say through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
"I meant it as an insult, not as a compliment," Henri said obviously.
I swallowed the mouthful of potato. "I know," I said cheerily.
"You are so weird sometimes," Henri said, turning her attention to her dinner.
Ginny looked up from hers. "Sometimes? Don't you mean all the time?"
"Ha ha, very funny," I said drily.
"What else did you do this summer?" Alex asked.
"Not much else, drove my mum mad, most likely," I answered.
"Rhiannon?" Luke inquired.
"This and that," she said evasively.
"Henri?" Alex asked.
"Same as Lizzie," she replied.
"Ginny?"
"Avoided all of my brothers," she answered. That got a laugh out of Alex and Luke.
"My sister, Bridget, is starting here next year," Luke said.
"Oh, really?" I said.
"Yeah, she's all excited. I'm not," Luke replied. "I've spent all summer trying to talk them into sending her to school in Canada."
"Why Canada?" Henri asked.
"Because it's far away," Luke said, "but they wouldn't buy it."
"Hey, Lizzie, isn't your youngest sister starting next year, too?" Alex asked.
"Yup," I said. "She says she can't wait to see everyone again, or Gryffindor Tower, but she's hoping Snape retires at the end of the year."
That got a laugh. "Tell her so does everyone else," Alex answered.
"We could always poison him," Rhiannon suggested.
"Rhee, he's the Potions Master, I'm sure he's got antidotes in his office," Henri said.
"Damn," Rhee said. "We could always sneak up on him, and slit his throat."
"We could decapitate him," Luke submitted.
"Too messy," I said, "and he'd be able to join the Headless Hunt when Nick can't."
"Who says he'd come back as a ghost?" Ginny asked.
"Who's to say he wouldn't?" I retorted.
"Fair point," she agreed. "We could always push him off the Astronomy Tower?"
"How about hanging him from the ceiling of his own dungeon?" Alex added.
"We could always burn him alive, like they did at the Salem Witch Trials, but take away his wand," Henri put in.
"Hmm… impalement?" I said.
"Ooh! Crucifixion or electrocution," Henri said excitedly. "Oh, wait… only Muggles know what those are. Darn."
"Disembowelment?"
"Dismemberment?"
"We could always stab him?"
"We could hire an executioner."
"We could, or we could kill him in his sleep."
"What if he wakes up, then, we're the ones who will die."
"The Killing Curse?"
"Too painless, we want him to die painfully."
"Suffocation?"
Our planning of Snape's death continued, each idea more ludicrous than the last.
"Axe murderer?"
"Death by Bludger?"
"Death by Salamander?"
"By pixie?"
"By Plimpy?"
"Death by Puffskein?"
"I know, death by Flobberworm!" Rhiannon exclaimed. We immediately burst out laughing.
"Death by Flobberworm?" I managed to choke out once I stopped laughing.
"Yes, we'll lock him a tub of them," she said.
"Hmm… that could work," I said teasingly. "If you have bloody ten years of patience."
When the puddings had been devoured, and the plates back to their sparkling clean, Dumbledore stood up. The chatter immediately died away throughout the Hall, and only the howling of the wind and rain could be heard.
"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling round at all of us. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few 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.
"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in 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?" I heard Harry gasp.
"What?" I nearly shrieked. I turned to look at Fred and George. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore. I love Quidditch. This isn't fair. It had better be for a good reason.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October," Dumbledore continued, "and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy– but I'm sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts–"
Just then, there was a deafening clap of thunder, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning against a long staff, wearing a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall turned to the stranger, suddenly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of dark grey hair, and began to walk towards the High Table.
A dull clunk echoed throughout the Hall with every other step. He reached the end of the staff table, and turned right towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning lit the ceiling. Henri gasped next to me.
The lightning had lit the man's face entirely. It wasn't like any face I've ever seen. Every inch was scarred. The mouth seemed to be a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing. His eyes, however, gave him a frightening look.
One was small, dark, and beady. The other, was large, round, and a vivid blue. The blue eye moved non-stop, without blinking, and rolling around very independently.
He had reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand as scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words I couldn't hear. He seemed to be asking the stranger something, who shook his head, and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore gestured to the empty seat next to him.
The man sat down, shook his hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to his nose, and sniffed it. He took a small knife out of his pocket, and speared at the end of a sausage, and began to eat. His normal eyed looked at the sausages, but his blue eye darted around its socket ceaselessly, taking in the Hall and students.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said brightly, smiling at us yet again. "Professor Moody."
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted by applause, but neither students nor staff save for Hagrid and Dumbledore actually clapped. Both applauded, but the sound echoed off the walls, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone appeared too transfixed by Moody's appearance to do anything else.
"Moody? As in Mad-Eye Moody, who everyone was talking about this morning?" Henri asked.
"Yup," Rhiannon and I answered.
"What happened to him?" Henri asked.
"Dunno," I replied.
Moody didn't seem to mind his less-than-enthusiastic welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached into his travelling cloak again, and withdrew a flask, and took a long drink from it. His cloak raised a few inches off the ground, and under the table, I could see inches of a carved, wooden leg ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat again.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, still smiling at us, though everyone was still looking at Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which 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 said loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall since Moody's arrival suddenly broke.
Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore even chuckled.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though, now you when mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all got into a bar–"
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"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 Tournament 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 the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued."
"Death toll?" I heard Hermione whisper. But her anxiety didn't seem to be shared by the rest of the students. Many students were whispering amongst themselves, and I wanted to hear more about the Tournament itself.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-operation 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 with in October, and the selection of the three champions at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousands Galleons personal prize money."
"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table. His face was lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and money. He was not only one; at every house table, people were gazing at Dumbledore with the utmost attention, or whispering fervently to friends. But Dumbledore began to speak again, and the Hall quietened.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, 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 as people made angry outbursts, and the Weasley twins looked furious. "–is a measure we feel 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 no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. 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 for 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 Moody. There was scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet, and headed towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall.
"They can't do that!" George exclaimed, who hadn't joined the throng moving towards the doors, as we passed. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"
"They're not stopping me entering," Fred said stubbornly. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
Rhiannon and I stopped. "Yeah," Ron said, with a faraway look. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"
"Come on," Hermione said, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."
Rhiannon, Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and I set off for the Entrance Hall, Fred and George debating ways Dumbledore might stop those under seventeen from entering the Tournament.
"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry asked.
"Dunno," Fred replied, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Ageing Potion might do it, George…"
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" Fred said shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school, and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."
"People have died, though!" Hermione said anxiously, as we through a door concealed by a tapestry, and started up a narrow staircase.
"Yeah," Fred said airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"
"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older… dunno if we've learned enough…"
"I definitely haven't," Neville said gloomily behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, thought, she's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to– oops…"
Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many trick staircases at Hogwarts, it was second nature to older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was extremely poor. Harry and Ron seized him underneath his armpits, and yanked him out, while a suit of armour at the top of the stairs creaked, laughing wheezily.
"Shut it, you," Ron said, banging down its visor as we passed. We made our way to Gryffindor Tower, which was hidden behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink, silk dress.
"Password?" she asked as we approached.
"Balderdash," George replied, "a Prefect downstairs told me."
The portrait swung forwards to reveal the portrait hole, we all climbed through. A crackling fire was warming the common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione gave the fire a dark look, and I could've sworn I heard her mutter 'slave labour', before saying goodnight, and heading up to the girls' dormitories.
"Night," Rhiannon and I said, heading upstairs also. We climbed the stairs until we reached our dormitory. Gwen and Ailsa were already in bed, and Ginny and Henri were just getting in.
"Going to enter?" Henri asked, looking suspicious.
"No, thirteen's a bit too young to die, isn't it?" I asked.
"Good," Henri said. "I was worried you were plotting with the twins on how to enter."
"Henri, would we do a thing like that?" Rhiannon asked innocently.
"Oh, I don't know about you two sometimes," Henri asked, beginning to pull her curtains shut. "Goodnight."
"Night," I replied, putting on my pyjamas, and climbing into bed. "G'night, Rhee."
"Night, Liz," she replied sleepily. I fell asleep with visions of being seventeen and the Hogwarts champion dancing in my head.
Author's Note: There's noting I can say that will make this acceptable. I know it's been two years and I'm so, so sorry. To those of you who have read this since the beginning, thank you! Thanks for sticking with me. There are so many unworthy excuses as to why this update is so late and I'm only going to give you one. I started focusing on my original work. So sorry again and hopefully you have forgiven me and that this was worth the wait. If not, you may come after me. I give you my permission.