Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to say this time except...
Disclaimer: Ownership of HP is a no go...except for OC's.
Now, here's...
Chapter 11: Hogwarts Bound
Enjoy!
Marcus, once again, found himself in the city of Paris.
This time, he was standing inbetween his Mom and Dad, looking at the mysterious young girl who was standing with another man, who he didn't recognize.
"Thank you for your help in the matter, Mr. and Mrs. Williams," said the man with a heavy french accent.
"Oh, don't worry about it," said Michael. "It was our pleasure to help out."
"Yes, it certainly was," said Brynn, who sounded like she was in paradise. "Ah, Michael, can't we just transfer to the French Ministry of Magic? This place would make a wonderful place to continue raising Marcus."
Marcus looked up to his father in excitement and joy. For such a thing to happen would mean that he would get to always spend time with the young girl.
"No," Michael said flatly. "We have our reasons for working at the American Ministry of Magic, Brynn, you know that."
Marcus then got really sad as his one hope of staying with the young girl was whisked away. He looked at her, who looked just as excited as he was and just as sad when his father denied it so quickly.
The young girl approached him and said, "No matter how long it takes, Mar-kees, I will find you again."
"I'm looking forward to that day," said Marcus with a joyous smile on his face.
"Well, then, this is our cue to leave," said Michael. "Marcus, it's time to say good-bye."
"Really?" said Marcus, sounding sad. "Okay, then."
He turned to the young lady and said, "Good-bye, Ms. -?!"
Suddenly, he found himself in the darkness.
Pitch black as far as the eye could see, Marcus looked at them and realized he was no longer in his four year old body, but rather his current, fourteen year old body.
"What - what's going on?!" he said to himself.
Suddenly, he heard a loud noise coming from above and behind him, making him quickly turn around.
He saw what first looked like a bright light, but as it started to move toward him, he realized what it was and he started to freak out.
"Oh, no, no, no!" he said out loud, clearly freaking out.
Suddenly, it landed in front of him and he didn't know what to do.
He found himself standing in front of a dragon. This dragon was pure white, including his underbelly, his white scales looked as if crushed diamonds had been poured all over the dragon. He stood on his rear legs, being close to seven feet tall. His rounded tail extended behind him about as long as he stood tall and his wings were extended, giving a wingspan of around fourteen feet. The dragon, rather than being really bulky like most dragons, was quite slender, toned and completely ripped, taking on an almost human aspect, but Marcus knew better. Somehow he knew that, underneath the slender, yet ripped appearance was unimaginable physical strength and prowress the likes of which Marcus had never gone up against before. His snout and jaw were only extended a little bit beyond his head, which showed razor sharp teeth and his golden horns took a slight outward bend, coming back in slightly as it went towards the top, the tips of which took another outward bend.
But the thing that freaked Marcus out the most were the dragon's eyes. Pure gold and full of menace, the dragon stared him down as if it was waiting for this moment for a long time.
"What - what do you want with me?!" yelled Marcus, not sure what to do.
The dragon, giving off a sort of low unthreatening growl, reached toward him with one of his arms, arms that, while it looked a lot like a beefed-up human arm, Marcus thought that it could easily break, punch, or claw almost any substance.
The shiny, white claws were mere inches away from when a deathly, ominous growl erupted from behind the dragon.
The dragon turned to face the source of the growling and, if Marcus was freaked out before, it was nothing compared to what he was currently seeing.
In front of the dragon, standing about fifty feet away, was a dog. This was no mere dog, however. Standing in a churchyard, towering over the graves, was a pitch black dog with pure gold eyes and sharp teeth that was seen because of the dog growling at them. Even on its four legs, it towered over the dragon and Marcus, and the thing that freaked Marcus out was the fact that, while it looked solid, it also looked smokey, like it was caught inbetween and just stayed that way.
The giant dog barked loudly at them, which fired off like concussive sound blasts at them.
In response, the dragon roared at the dog, which sent up a great shiver up Marcus' spine. The roar of the dragon moved around him, through him, and reverberated inside him, leaving him feeling helpless and scared.
Suddenly, the giant dog pounced at them, the dragon leaping at him before flying against the dog, his left fist cocked back and ready to make contact with the dog.
"Wait, what -?!" Marcus began to say.
Suddenly, Marcus found himself falling into an abyss, screaming as he fell deeper and deeper...
Marcus sat up quickly, wildly looking around and found himself in Ron's room in the The Burrow.
Marcus, while realizing it was only a dream, couldn't go back to sleep. The dream was too vivid, it felt too real.
Marcus got up and dressed himself in his favorite Muggle attire of blue jeans, sneakers, a simple black t-shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. He was listening to the rain still splattering against the window as he took care not to wake Harry and Ron while he was getting his belongings down to the living room.
He then spent the next few hours contemplating what he just dreamed about.
"It seems that I have a lot to try and decipher throughout this year," thought Marcus. "This reminds me of second-year, when Riddle was carrying out those attacks on Muggle-borns. Unlike then, however, I have literally no clues, just vague advice and warnings. Ugh, what am I going to do?!"
At this point, he saw Mrs. Weasley coming down the stairs. She saw Marcus and said, "Goodness, Marcus, what are you doing up so early?"
"Bad dream," Marcus simply said, not wanting to go into details.
She must've felt the finality in his voice, because she started making breakfast in silence.
Marcus lost track of time, sitting in the silence, because it caught him by surprise that Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were reaching the living room.
It also surprised him to see Mrs. Weasley going to the foot of the stairs, looking quite harrassed, and called up," Arthur! Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"
Marcus watched as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Marcus entered the kitchen with everyone else, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers - "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to -
"What in the world is Mr. Diggory doing here?!" thought a startled Marcus.
"...Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there -"
"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.
"-it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur -"
"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.
Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."
"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.
"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up -"
Mr. Weasley groaned.
"And what about the intruder?"
"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on this on Mad-Eye, he's had it - think of his record - we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department - what are exploding dustbins worth?"
"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"
"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."
"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.
Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.
"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's suppose to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."
"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"
"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.
Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.
"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.
Marcus could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.
"I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys," said Mr. Weasley to Marcus, Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"
"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."
As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.
"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now?"
"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.
"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather..."
"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.
"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.
"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything..."
"Who is Mad-Eye?" Harry asked.
"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry as Head of the Auror Department," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me in to work with him. He was one of the best -" Charlie saw the blank look on Harry's face and added in, "An Auror is a Dark Wizard catcher." He turned to everyone else and continued, "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though...the families of people he caught, mainly...and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark Wizards everywhere."
Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.
"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."
"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."
Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order four ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.
"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Marcus and Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving seven heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare..Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"
Now, Marcus didn't know everything about the Muggle World, as he only spent time in it from the age of five to ten and a half, but even he knew that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pidwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.
For Marcus, the journey wasn't too uncomfortable, considering only himself, his belongings, and Charlie were in one cab, as everyone else were in the other three cabs.
"So, Marcus, would you say your summer has been eventful?" Charlie asked.
"Bizarre," Marcus stated. "There's just so many things that has happened and no rhyme or reason why."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, at the Quidditch World Cup, when the Death Eaters attacked, I went to face off against them."
Charlie sighed and said, "I overheard from Dad that you did something like that."
"Well, the thing is...well, I think they acted at the World Cup because of me."
"Because of you?!"
"Yes. When I had finally reached them and confronted them, one of them said that I fell right in their lap, like they were expecting me to show."
"But Death Eaters show their support to You-Know-Who," said Charlie, confused. "I could see them going after Harry, but why you?"
"That's the thing, I don't know," said Marcus, his brows furrowed. "Could it be that I'm on Voldemort's hit list, or could that have been nothing more than a test? It just doesn't make sense. Then-"
Marcus froze in this moment. He was about to tell Charlie about the most recent dream he had, but then he thought better of it.
"Yes?"
"It's nothing Charlie, don't worry about it." He then asked, "So, after we get dropped off at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, what are you going to do?"
"I have to take care of some business in the U.K."
Marcus looked at Charlie, eyes narrowed. "What kind of work?"
"Can't tell you, obviously," Charlie responded with a smile on his face.
The rest of the ride was silent until they arrived at King's Cross. Marcus tried to hurry and get his stuff before he get completely soaked but, considering how hard the rain was coming down, he failed quite miserably, going into the station drenched from head to toe.
Marcus was quite used to getting onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it...and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.
The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became nosier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
"Why?" said Fred keenly. "You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."
"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
"Why?" said George impatiently.
"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it..."
"A bit of what?" said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.
"Words can't express my gratitude, Mrs. Weasley," said Marcus.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing or another."
"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"
Marcus felt yet another wave of deja vu hitting him like a wrecking ball as Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together said, "What rules?"
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you...Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"
The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.
"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.
Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pidwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.
"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -"
"Shh!" Hermoine whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Marcus, Harry, and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.
"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students acutally learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."
Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.
"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."
"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."
"Come on, Harry, I even told you about there being other Wizarding Schools when we first met," scolded Marcus.
"Oh, right, you did," said Harry.
"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"
"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.
"Er - why not?" said Harry.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivarly between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.
"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?"
"Ron, Hogwarts is hidden," said Marcus. "Everyone should know that...well, everyone that's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."
"Just you and Hermione, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"
"It's bewitched," said Marcus. "If a Muggle should happen to look upon Hogwarts, all they would see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."
"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"
"Maybe," said Hermione, who shrugged at the idea. "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"
"Come again?" asked Ron.
"Enchanting a building so it's impossible to plot on a map," Marcus explained.
"Er...if you say so," said Harry.
"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."
"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...shame his mother likes him..."
The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share while Marcus witheld himself from buying anything. Sweets wasn't something Marcus was exactly eager to put into his body.
Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his spartan witch of a grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his U.S. rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Braxton - Jasper - Harley!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm.
Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match.
"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."
"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville..."
He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.
"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.
"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."
Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.
"Weasley...what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pidwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.
Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.
"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."
"I'd rather wear those robes than yours, Malfoy," said Marcus, who stood up to face him. "I mean, I can only imagine how shiny and nasty yours are after getting all that hair grease on them."
Malfoy's ear gone slightly pinked at this remark. He recovered quickly, however, and looked at Ron, saying, "So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.
"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you? What about you, old man?"
"I'll enter just to ensure you don't get any undeserved glory," said Marcus, staring down Malfoy.
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.
A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face.
"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry...Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him..."
"Better cool yourselves down, people," Marcus said out loud, "There's some hot air blowing around!"
Malfoy got into Marcus' face and said in a low voice, "I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, Marcus Williams. Blood traitors follow closely after Mudbloods, after all."
Marcus wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but he knew it wouldn't be worth it.
With gleeful looks on their faces, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.
Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.
"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.
"Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't..." Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'...Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is..."
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"
"Him! Get to me?! As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.
Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.
As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.
"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled. Marcus looked where Harry was looking to see a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"
First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.
"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione feverently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the school.
As Marcus approached the hundred carriages that were pulled by the dead-looking horses, Marcus heard a familiar voice shout, "Marcus, wait for me!"
"Ah, that must be -" said Marcus who, upon turning around to see the source of the voice, could only find himself saying, "Whoa."
It was Lorelei Flamel, there was no doubt in Marcus' mind. She had the waist-long red hair the color of blood, those sparkling emerald eyes, and her smile that seemed to make diamonds look like pearls. However, she was much taller than before. When they left Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer, she was around four feet eight inches. Now, however, she stood around five feet six inches, just four inches taller than he was.
"Holy crap, Lorelei!" said Marcus. "What happened?! Did you accidently drink Skele-grow?!"
Lorelei's smile grew just a bit wider and said, "I think I'm hitting my growth spurt! Isn't this great, Marcus?"
"Yes, Lorelei, that's fantastic," said Marcus, though he couldn't help but be jealous over her newfound height advantage.
Out of nowhere, he heard another voice say, "Marcus, there you are! Finally!"
Marcus looked to his right to find -
"Cedric!" said Marcus happily. "I was wondering where you were.
"Marcus, who's this?" Lorelei asked.
"I'll make introductions in the carriage," said Marcus. "Here, let's get this one."
So, the three of them grabbed the nearest carriage while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville took the one behind them. The door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.
And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as that always helps me refine my skills as a writer. Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
