Chapter Three
Nicholas and Draco Malfoy hadn't been getting along lately, though they barely spent any time together. Harry had even asked what caused the sudden dislike—Draco hadn't been around them much lately, but even so, Harry never thought that Nicholas hated the Slytherin. It actually seemed like he did lately.
It could've possibly started when Draco had made a crack about Nicholas being in Slytherin—because of the sudden revelation of Nicholas's adoption—and then Isabelle tried to defend her brother, which only caused Draco to sneer and make a crack about her.At least, Nicholas said that's what happened, since Harry wasn't sure. He hadn't been there; instead, when that happened, he had been in Severus's chambers with the Potions Professor. It had, of course, been cut short by Davy Brighton's sudden arrival, and Harry just didn't feel like being down there along with Davy.
Nicholas hadn't been in such a good mood ever since the incident with Draco Malfoy—but it all seemed to disappear the day that Professor Moody turned the blond into a ferret. That really all happened when Nicholas and Draco began to have another verbal fight, and in which Harry had tried to help, which only caused Draco to get angry… and use magic without Harry even being aware of it.
Then came Professor Moody, and then the ferret.
It was Professor Moody's class that had been the most… interesting. Harry wondered how Hermione handled it when Moody had showed them the curses: Avada Kedavra, the Cruciatus and the Imperius curse. To think, that Voldemort had used the Avada Kedavra curse to kill his parents—and he had witnessed it. On a spider, of course. Still…
That week, Harry had managed to visit Severus most of the time while still narrowly evading Davy Brighton, because Harry began to memorize Davy's visiting schedule with Severus. Although lately, Davy had been visiting at different times than he used to.
Harry didn't know exactly why he was avoiding Davy. He knew that it really didn't have anything to do with Davy pushing him into the water over the summer, but more because he felt uncomfortable whenever he was in a room with both Severus and Davy.
Why?
Was it because he felt like Davy Brighton was competition? Competition for… what, Harry wondered? Competition for Severus's attention? Harry had come to admit to himself that he was a little jealous of Davy spending so much time with his father, but then Harry began to wonder just when he had become so possessive.
He had even wrote to Sirius, asking his godfather for advice. He would've normally asked Severus for advice—but, seeing as this was about Severus himself, Harry found it just too awkward.
Sirius's reply didn't answer Harry's question directly, but asked other questions before finally, near the end, admitted that he didn't know what kind of advice to give Harry. Harry didn't mind; instead, he just continued to visit Severus whilst still avoiding Davy.
It was actually working out pretty well, for a while.
Harry stood up from the couch in Severus's chambers, clearing his throat. "I should go, I have homework that I need to do. You know, I just should have done it with Nicholas, but I held it off…"
Severus shook his head. "You should have finished your homework with Mr Nixon when he did his. Do you think I should give you a detention for procrastinating, Mr Potter-Snape?"
A grin played across Harry's lips. "You can do what you want, Professor. I just think that you'd only give me a detention for procrastinating because you want to spend more time with me. Correct?"
"Perhaps," Severus drawled, looking amused. He looked as if he was going to add something more, but ended up just cringing as a familiar voice echoed through the chambers.
"Uncle Sev!"
Harry turned around, facing Davy Brighton, who entered the chambers cheerfully. The Gryffindor froze as he caught sight of Harry.
"Oh…" Davy faltered. "What are you doing here?"
Harry scowled. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? I'm visiting my father."
"Oh," Davy repeated, nodding. "Right. I forgot."
"Of course you did," Harry muttered. Without even glancing at Severus, Harry merely said, "Talk to you later," before leaving, though he wasn't quite sure Severus even heard him.
As he stepped out of the portrait hole and began walking down the corridor, Harry wondered if he should've just stayed. What were Davy and Severus talking about now? Him? How foolish he just acted back there? Well, at least Harry thought himself foolish. Although, he has said and done—or perhaps just said?—much more foolish things in front of Davy Brighton.
Harry came to a halt as he saw Hermione in front of him, looking preoccupied.
"Hello, Hermione," Harry greeted cheerfully—as cheerful as he could be, anyway. "Coming from the library?"
"I was just going back to my dorm," Hermione explained, glancing down at the books in her arms. "I'm a bit busy."
"With what?"
"You'll see," Hermione replied with a grin. "Nicholas and Isabelle are in the library if you're looking for them. Bye."
Harry watched as Hermione left, and then headed towards the library. As soon as he entered he saw both Nixon's sitting around a table.
"Hi," Harry said as he approached them. "Hermione said you were here."
"Yeah, just finishing up a bit of homework. Have you started it yet?"
Harry ignored Nicholas's last question, but listened to Isabelle as she said, "Did you see Hermione yet? She was acting strange… but she wouldn't tell me anything."
"She is up to something," Harry agreed as he sat down beside Nicholas.
Caoimhe Aureus passed them, giving Isabelle a dirty glare on her way by.
Nicholas scowled. "What's her problem?"
"She's probably acting like that because I've stopped hanging around her," Isabelle replied stiffly, then began to look nervous. "And maybe because she told me something and is afraid that now I'm going to tell everyone."
Nicholas looked intrigued. "Are you?"
"No," Isabella replied, frowning. "No I'm not."
"Aw, come on," Nicholas encouraged with a grin. "Tink…"
Isabelle made a face at Nicholas, and then scowled. "Don't call me that and—well… do you really want to know?"
Nicholas nodded eagerly.
Isabelle swallowed, looking at Nicholas with an austere face. "She told me that she loves you, Nicholas. She has ever since she first saw you."
Nicholas paled, gaping. He turned his horrified eyes onto Harry, who tried not to laugh, but found the task extremely difficult.
"Yo—you—"
Isabelle merely smiled. "I'm just kidding, Nicholas. She didn't say that."
Nicholas closed his mouth. "Well why not? Am I not lovable?"
Isabelle gave Nicholas a look. "I'm not going to tell you two what she said here—but if I tell you later, you two do promise that you won't say anything, right?"
Harry and Nicholas exchanged glances before nodding.
"All right." Isabelle nodded as she stood. "I'll tell you both tonight."
-
That night, the trio had also learned what Hermione had been up to.
"Spew," Harry repeated slowly, though at Hermione's look, corrected himself. "OK, S-P-E-W. What—?"
"The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," Hermione answered. "I really don't like how the House Elves are being treated! Honestly, do you?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, I—meaning my Dad and I—treat our House Elf nicely…"
"Well, not you. What about Dobby? You were telling me about him—and that House Elf at the World Cup?"
Harry exchanged glances with Nicholas, who gave his shoulders a shrug and continued to eat.
Isabelle giggled. "Spew?"
Hermione scowled, abruptly standing up from the Slytherin table and hotly towards the Gryffindor.
Isabelle frowned in embarrassment. "I guess I shouldn't have laughed like that."
Nicholas shrugged. "She'll get over it. Now you tell us about Aureus, Isabelle."
Isabelle nervously looked around the table. "Not here, Nicholas!"
Nicholas frowned, saying, "Then where?"
"Maybe back in the common room, or on our way to there." She sighed. "But I really shouldn't…"
"I'm your brother," Nicholas pointed out. "And Harry's your friend—"
"I know!" Isabelle interrupted. "I know."
"Okay," Nicholas said quickly. "I was just reminding you."
-
As it turned out, Isabelle told them that Caoimhe Aureus was definitely into the Dark Arts—but that didn't surprise Harry at all. If Aureus wasn't into the Dark Arts, then he'd be surprised.
After all, her mother, Topaz Aureus, had definitely been a follower of Voldemort. Like mother, like daughter, it seemed.
Then came October thirtieth—when Beauxbatons and Durmstrang came to Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"Can you believe it?" Nicholas said as he, Harry and Isabelle were walking up the steps, following behind Durmstrang. "Viktor Krum."
"You should get his autograph, Nicholas," Isabelle suggested with a grin. "Heaven knows you'll be going on about that."
"He's just a Quidditch player," a new voice said from beside Isabelle.
Harry turned his head to see who the voice belonged to. Hermione; she had approached them again, though she still looked miffed over the S.P.E.W.
"Not just a Quidditch player," Isabelle pointed out. "He's a very good Quidditch player."
"A brilliant Quidditch player!" Nicholas intervened as they entered the Great Hall.
"I'm going to go over to the Gryffindor table," Hermione announced, "Isabelle, can I talk to you later about something?"
Isabelle nodded, giving Hermione a brief grin. "Sure. Bye."
Harry took his seat at the Slytherin table; Nicholas sat beside him, whilst Isabelle sat in front of the two boys.
"Look, Durmstrang is coming to sit over here, at the Slytherin table," Isabelle pointed out, craning her neck to try to get a better look. "Oh, Viktor Krum's sitting over by Draco Malfoy."
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, as the Great Hall slowly began to quiet. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.
"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you to eat drink, and make yourselves at home!"
The dishes in front of them filled with food, and Nicholas inspected one curiously.
"What type of food is this? There's…"
"I don't know," Isabelle said, peering at the dish, as well.
"Maybe it's something that the Beauxbaton or Durmstrang students eat," Harry suggested. He suddenly winced. "Ohh, I forgot about Nath—Slyther. I should go check on him after. I can't believe I forgot about him…"
Nicholas chuckled.
Dumbledore stood up once more, as soon as the food on the dishes had disappeared. The Great Hall eventually began to grow silent once more.
"The moment has come," Dumbledore started. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring the casket, just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation" – the Great Hall filled with polite applause, although when the next name was announced, it became much more louder and enthusiastic - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel which will judge the champions' efforts."
Dumbledore paused, before continuing.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore, as Filch came in, placing a chest on the table before him.
"They have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways: their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.
"As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament," Dumbledore continued on, rather calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector ... the Goblet of Fire."
Then Dumbledore pulled out his wand, tapping the top of the chest three times. It opened, and Dumbledore retrieved a wooden cup, lit with blue-white flames. He closed the chest and placed the Goblet of Fire on top.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore said, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all."
Dumbledore finished, and everybody in the hall started to rise. A loud chatter filled the air. Nicholas was glowing with excitement.
"This is going to be a good year," he said lightly to Harry. "I think it is."
Harry nodded in agreement, though he began to frown as Draco Malfoy approached them. His eyes skimmed over Nicholas and Harry, eventually landing on Isabelle, who began to look uncomfortable.
A funny expression crossed Draco's face as he narrowed his eyes at Isabelle, studying her. A smirk slowly pulled at the side of his lips.
"What would they say?" Draco said to Isabelle, who began to noticeably pale. He raised his eyebrows quickly while the smirk remained on his face—though, it was quick, almost inconspicuous.
And then he left.
"What was that about?" Nicholas demanded, looking at Isabelle in confusion. "What did Malfoy mean?"
"I don't know," Isabelle mumbled, shaking her head. She forced a smile, though Harry could tell that it was forced, because it was shaky and rather nervous-looking. "I have to go find Hermione now. I'll be quick."
Nicholas stood, looking at the empty spot where Isabelle had once been, as everyone around he and Harry began to go back to their common room.
"Come on," Harry said, tugging on Nicholas's elbow gently. "Why don't you go to the common room, and I'll come, too, after I go down to my Dad's chambers?"
Nicholas nodded slowly, following the rest of the students out of the hall.
--
"You forgot me," Nathaniel repeated when Harry had went down to the chambers, looking apologetic. "Well. I—I suppose, you must have a lot going on."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You're not going to… to give me loads of grief over forgetting you? You have changed, Nathaniel."
Nathaniel grinned. It slowly began to fade, though as he spoke. "I'm growing as a person. Look, Harry, I just… wanted to point out to you that… I'm not here just because I'm not with Amaryllis anymore. I'm here because I missed being here."
Harry nodded, giving a grin. "You and Syther are being fed, right? And you two get along?"
"Yes and… surprisingly, yes," Nathaniel answered. "He's good company, considering that Snape always ignores me. He's not company at all."
"All right," Harry said. "I should go, though. I'll come see you again after, OK?"
Nathaniel nodded, and Harry left his bedroom to be greeted by Severus, who opened his mouth and was about to say something before Harry quickly intervened.
"I know, I know! It's late, you should be in your dorm and in bed," Harry said. "I'm leaving, right now. Goodnight."
Severus gave Harry a look. "Goodnight, Harry."
Harry smiled, leaving the chambers. As he made his way down the corridor, though, he heard hushed voices up ahead. He held his breath, trying to listen, because these voices were familiar…
And then, as he drew closer, he knew who the voices belonged to.
-
"A professor is going to find us," Isabelle said, frowning as she nervously looked around. "We'll be in trouble, and get a detention, and it's going to be your fault."
"I just need to say this," Hermione said, returning the frown. She stood in front of Isabelle, though she looked just as nervous. "You have to listen to me, Isabelle."
"I am," said Isabelle. Now she was just looking irritated. "Go on, Hermione, I'm tired."
"Why are you doing this?" Hermione whispered, looking hurt. "You're only thirteen, and… I know, Isabelle."
Isabelle paled.
"It's none of your business, Hermione," Isabelle said in a shaky voice. She wrung her hands nervously. "It was an accident. That's why you started going around with Ginny Weasley, isn't it? You didn't want to be seen around me anymore?"
"It was not an accident. You knew exactly what you were doing!" Hermione pointed out. "It was that Caoimhe Aureus, wasn't it? She got you into it?"
"How many other people know?" Isabelle shot back. "How many people did you tell? I bet Nicholas knows about it now—and Harry too, am I right?"
"No, you're not," Hermione said, scowling. "I saw Draco Malfoy come up to you, though, Isabelle. What did he say to you? Does he know too?"
Isabelle's voice lowered, until it was barely audible. "He said 'What would they say?' I—I don't know how he'd know… Hermione, it was a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes."
"Tell me that you'll stop going around Caoimhe Aureus," Hermione said softly, "and tell me that you won't follow in her steps. That you're a different Slytherin, like Harry and your brother."
"I am," Isabelle said, just as softly. "I'm not going to be a follower of You-Know-Who. Caoimhe… she just… was telling me things, and—and showed me a dark spell, b—but I'm not going into the dark arts. I'm not."
Hermione gave Isabelle a hard look. "I hope you don't, Isabelle. I thought you were different—a different Slytherin. Please don't prove me wrong."
"I won't," Isabelle said hoarsely.
Hermione slowly began to walk away, and Harry, from behind a corner, watched as Isabelle slowly let out a shuddering breath, and then collected herself. Wiping her eyes, she lifted her chin and began to walk back to the Slytherin common room.
There was something different in the way she looked, Harry thought as he studied her retreating figure. He didn't like what he had just overheard. In fact, he felt shocked by it all. Isabelle… she would never turn into one of Voldemort's followers. Never… never a Death Eater. Even if she was a Slytherin, he was a Slytherin too, and there was no way he'd join sides with Voldemort.
He was the one who was going to destroy Voldemort.
Harry hoped that Hermione was right, that Isabelle would turn out to be a different Slytherin.
Though, there was a slight chance that Isabelle Nixon might just prove Hermione wrong, like Hermione had begged her not to.
There was no telling what would happen…
-
A/N: Until the next time…