Greetings, one and all, and once again welcome to another chapter of The Potter And Kent Chronicles. I hope you enjoy it and now on to the reviews.
Wolf King 0811: I also like it when Malfoy is the Butt-monkey.
Linkonpark100: Indeed, let the Shipping commence!
Dark Blue Wing: Yeah, your going to need those lighter/funny moments or else this story is going to be too depressing. Yeah, Clark still has some issue's to work out with his mom.
Savoxgut: Clark had said he wanted to try and get to know them, he never said he had forgiven them. Who knows if Kara is going to get some competition? And about the revenge against the Dursley's... Maybe Harry will tell about it later in greater detail.
And on to the reviews.
Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Clark could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Kara jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.
"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked." as they slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right.
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils, it was much warmer in here. Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Kara walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick.
Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck. "Good evening." he said, beaming at them. "Says who?" Harry said, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving." Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table. "Hiya, Harry!"
It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero. "Hi, Colin...", Harry said warily. "Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"
"There are more of you?", Clark asked shocked. "He's really excited!" Colin said, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"
"Sure why not?", Harry said, he turned back to Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Kara and Nearly Headless Nick. "Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?", Harry said, he was judging by the Weasley's, all seven of whom had been put into Gryffindor. "Oh no, not necessarily.", Kara said, "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"
Clark looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years, Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, but Clark couldn't think who else was missing. "Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?", Hermione said, who was also looking up at the teachers.
They had yet to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. He looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there. "Maybe they couldn't get anyone!", Neville suggested.
Harry scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout. She was talking to Professor Sinistra, on her other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape.
On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Clark guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. "Oh hurry up." Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hippogriff."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Kara were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school, all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Clark recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat.
The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, "I fell in the lake!", He looked positively delighted about it.
Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide 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 fin.
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 far 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 favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick 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 rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told 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 trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool. "Ravenclaw!" shouted the hat. Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.
A while later, tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide, "Gryffindor!", the hat shouted.
Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother. "Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"
"Cool!" Colin said, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"
"Whoa!" Dennis said, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster. "Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and the... huh, he doesn't have glasses anymore... Anyways, see him? Know who he is, Dennis?"
Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, as the Sorting continued, boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the List's. "Oh, hurry up." Ron moaned, massaging his stomach. "Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food." Nearly Headless Nick said as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.
"Of course it is, if you're dead.", Clark said dryly. "I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch." Nearly Headless Nick said, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"
And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("Hufflepuff!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away. "About time.", Ron said, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.
Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Hear, hear!", Harry, Clark, Ron and Neville said loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes. Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Kara loaded their own plates. "Aaah, 'at's be'er." Ron said, with his mouth full of mashed potato.
The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.
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 again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are 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 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. He looked around at Fred and George, his 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 teachers' 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. 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 up 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 gasped.
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Clark had ever seen. It 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.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbhedore shook it, muttering words Clark couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmiling 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 said brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again 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 Clark saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "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 said loudly. 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," he 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 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."
"In a departure from tradition, the departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Sports and Games, as well as the current headmaster of each school, have decided to have six champions instead of the usual three. Each school will have both a senior and a junior champion. The seniors must all be of age, that is seventeen years or older, while the junior must be fourteen and no older than sixteen, So that those of you who are already of age cannot have two opportunities at becoming a champion. No matter which champion you will become, all champions will face the same tasks, no matter their age."
The majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the six 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 hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Clark could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"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 champions 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. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall. "I am going to enter." Fred said determent, also scowling at the top table. "The champions will get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," Ron said, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."
"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."
Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Kara, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall. "Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?", Harry said. "No idea." Kara said, "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school."
"People have died, though!" Hermione said in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower 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, fancy entering as a junior champion?"
"What d'you reckon? Be cool to enter, wouldn't it?", Ron asked Harry, Clark and Neville. "I suppose they might want someone older... Dunno if we've learned enough.", Harry said. "I expect my gran want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor.", Neville said gloomy.
They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she said as they approached. "Balderdash," George said, "A prefect downstairs told me."
The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione and Kara bid them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girl's dormitory.
Harry, Clark, Ron, and Neville climbed up the last, spiral staircase until they reached their own dormitory, which was situated at the top of the tower. Six four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot. Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed, Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to his headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of Viktor Krum over his bedside table. His old poster of the West Ham football team was pinned right next to it.
Harry, Clark, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and into bed. Someone had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.
"I might go in for it, you know." Ron said sleepily through the darkness, "You never know, do you?"
"S'pose not...", Harry voice said.
Clark rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind's eye... He had become Hogwarts junior champion... he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming... he had just won the Triwizard Tournament. His mother's face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with pride.
The next two days passed without great incident. The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung.
They hurried into six chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "Those books. You won't need them."
They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited. Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
"Right then." he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures, you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent. "But you're behind, very behind, on dealing with curses." Moody said, "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark..."
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out. Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron, Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled, the first time Clark had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago... Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledor... One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.", he gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
"So, straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. "So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Clark's, Ron's, Hermione's and Kara's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender. "Er," said Ron tentatively, "My dad told me about one... Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes." Moody said appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Clark felt Ron recoil slightly next to him.
Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it, he then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!" The spider leap from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing - everyone except Kara and Moody.
"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The laughter died away almost instantly. "Total control," Moody said quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
Ron gave an involuntary shudder. "Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse." Moody said, and Clark knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. Constant vigilance!" he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Clark's, Hermione's and Kara's hand flew into the air again and so, to their slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring. "Yes?" Moody said, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville. "There's one... the Cruciatus Curse.", Neville said in a small but distinct voice. Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus Curse. Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea." he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Clark was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently...
"Stop it!" Kara shouted. Clark looked around at her, she was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville who's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. "Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain, You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse... That one was very popular once too." Moody said softly, "Right... anyone know any others?" From the looks on everyone's faces, Clark guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Clark, Hermione and Kara raised theri hand, for the third time, she raised it into the air. "Yes?" Moody said, looking at Kara.
"Avada Kedavra.", Kara whispered. Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron. "Ah." Moody said, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding, "Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor. "Not nice, not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me.", he said calmly.
"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang, but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices.
They were talking about the lesson, Clark thought, as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, but he hadn't found it very entertaining. "Hurry up," she said tensely to Harry, Clark, Ron, and Kara.
Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. "Neville?" Clark asked gently. Neville looked around. "Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for starving. I'm - I'm dinner, aren't you?"
"Neville, are you all right?", Clark asked. "Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner... I mean lesson... what's for eating?"
Ron gave Harry, Clark, Hermione and Kara a startled look. But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All six of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard. "It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea..." Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry. "You all right, are you, Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry, almost defiantly. Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending... well... Come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."
Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder. "What was that about?" Ron said, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner. "I don't know." Clark said, looking pensive. "Some lesson, though, eh?" Ron said as they set off for the Great Hall. "He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right..."
But Ron fell suddenly silent at the look on Harry's face and didn't speak again until they reached the Great Hall. Neville joined them a while later. He looked a good deal calmer than at the end of Moody's lesson, though still not entirely normal. His eyes were rather red.
"You all right, Neville?" Clark asked him. "Oh yes.", Neville said, "I'm fine, thanks. Just reading this book Professor Moody lent me..."
He held up the book: Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. "Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I'm really good at Herbology," Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Clark had rarely heard there before. "He thought I'd like this."
Telling Neville what Professor Sprout had said, had been a very tactful way of cheering Neville up, for Neville very rarely heard that he was good at anything. It was the sort of thing Lupin would have done.
A few weeks later, when they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the six, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other five:
Triwizard Tournament
The Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 oçlock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early-
"Brilliant!" Harry said, "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"
Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the welcoming feast.
"Only a week away!" Ernie said, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."
"Cedric?" Ron said blankly as Ernie hurried off. "Diggory." Kara said. "He must be entering the tournament."
"That idiot, a Hogwarts champion?" Ron said as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. "He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch.", Hermione said. "I've heard he's a really good student, and he's a prefect.", she spoke as though this settled the matter.
"You only like him because he's handsome.", Clark said dryly, his hands in his pockets. "Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" Hermione said indignantly. Clark and Ron gave each other a look before Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation: The Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Kara sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. "Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Ron said thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry, Clark. We've done dangerous stuff before..."
There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Clark, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Kara hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines. "Follow me, please." Professor McGonagall said, "First years in front... no pushing..."
They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening, dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. "Nearly six." Ron said, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it," Hermione said. "How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky. "I don't think so... not from that far away...", Kara said. They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" many said students eagerly, all looking in different directions. Something large, much larger than a broomstick was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. "It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. "Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.
Dennis's guess was closer... As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed, then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
Clark just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms, two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars, before it opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully, then Clark saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage, a shoe the size of a child's sled, followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.
Clark had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face, Large, black, liquid-looking eyes, and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Dumbledore started to clap, the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. "My dear Madame Maxime," he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dort," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice, "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you." Dumbledore said. "My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Clark, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk. From what Clark could see of them, they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.
"Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?", Dumbledore asked. "Warm up, I think.", Madame Maxime said imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
Clark then noticed several male students, including Harry, Ron and Neville, leering at a certain Beauxbatons student, while most girls were glaring at her. Clark was quite confused at the glares she was getting as he looked at her, she was tall and willowy, with an air of grace that made her seem like she was gliding when she was walking, she also had beautiful silvery-blonde hair that fell almost to her waist, large, and fair skin. As she walked closer he noticed the girl was staring at him with her deep sky blue eyes. For some reason she stopped and took a closer look at Clark.
She was about to take a step towards him, until Madam Maxime called out to her, "Is there a problem Fleur?", she asked in French. The girl now named Fleur quickly shook her head, shooting Clark a smile that caused Neville nearly to faint and she began walking into the school.
"What was that about?", Kara asked surprised, Hermione giving Clark an weird look while the boys shrug their shoulders. They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.
For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. "Can you hear something?", Kara asked suddenly. A loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...
"The lake!", Lee yelled, pointing down at it, "Look at the lake!"
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water, except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center, great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks, and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor.
What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool, slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank.
A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking, they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur.
But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort, sleek and silver, like his hair. "Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice, when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee, did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts.", he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Clark caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the Ron hiss in his ear, to recognize that profile. "It's Krum!"
And I guess this is a good place to take a break, I hope you liked it. Many thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, favorite or follows this story, you beautiful bastards! Now I wish you all a fantastic day, and I will see you ladies and gents, next time! Mischief Managed!