Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Thank you all for taking the time to read my stories. It makes me happier than you could ever know. Also...
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP, save for OC's.
Now, here's...
Chapter 15: The Grand Welcome
Enjoy!
By the time Marcus returned to the dormitory the next morning from his workout with Lorelei, showered up, and was ready for the day, he found Harry just about leaving the common room.
"Hey, Marcus," said Harry.
"Harry," said Marcus, a little surprised at his friends' early rise. "What's getting you up at this hour?"
"I was about to make my way to the Owlery," said Harry. "Do you want to come with me?"
"Sure," he said, grabbing a written piece of parchment. "I have to send a letter myself, so it works out."
As they got walking out of the portrait hole, Marcus said, "Trying to stop Sirius from entering the country?"
"How did you -?!"
"I would do the exact same thing, if I was in your shoes," said Marcus. "In fact, I'm going to send a letter to Sirius, as well."
"Are you going to try and stop Sirius, too?" asked Harry.
"Nope," said Marcus. "He wouldn't listen to me in that regard, just as he won't listen to you. Once his mind's made up, he's not going to deter from anything."
No words were uttered from that point until they arrived at the Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower.
The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty, because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor was entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though here and there a round amber eye glared at them. Marcus spotted Archie nestled between Hedwig and another owl and the two boys hurried on over to their respective owls, sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor.
While Marcus was able to get Archie up quick and out of the Owlery for the delivery, Harry had to take longer to wake up Hedwig and, when she finally did, she kept showing Harry her tail. No doubt she was still furious about Harry's lack of gratitude from the previous night. In the end, it was Harry suggesting she might be too tired, and that perhaps he would ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon, that made her stick out her leg and allow him to tie the letter to it.
"Just find him, all right?" Harry said, stroking her back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the dementors do."
She nipped his finger, perhaps rather harder than she would ordinarily have done, but hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way all the same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. The two boys watched her fly out of sight.
"Well, Harry, let's get to breakfast," said Marcus, "They should have a decent spread this morning."
"That was a lie, Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast, when Harry told her and Ron what he had done. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."
"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."
"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.
Marcus had to bring forth more focus than he ever thought possible over the next couple of weeks. Sure, the thought of Sirius getting caught came up a few times, but he didn't pay much mind to it, as he was confident his godfather could avoid just about anybody. What he did have to pay mind to was not only his school lessons, but his training with Lorelei and Cedric.
Cedric Diggory was beginning to really show just how much he knew during their consolidated training sessions, as he was able to help Marcus and Lorelei make quick work of learning new spells as well as innovative ways of using spells they already knew, something that even Marcus hadn't thought of. The only difficulties Marcus and Lorelei were having were learning their affinities and the Duplication Spell.
Marcus was the only one that was able to make any progress with the Duplication Spell, and that wasn't even saying much. True, Marcus was able to form a duplicate body, but the duplicate body wasn't even able to move, much less do anything on command or even think for itself; in other words, it was useless.
It didn't even help that his school lessons were starting to get more difficult and demanding than ever before, in particular Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.
To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Marcus, Harry, and Ron all grinned at one another. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Marcus watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the Great Britain national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them only recovered when Moody had removed it.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Marcus watched Harry moving forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
Marcus then saw the look on Harry's face take on a blank expression, like someone had put him on reset and was merely waiting to refill the blanks. He was like this for a few seconds before he suddenly bent his knees, looking to jump onto the nearby desk.
Then he saw it.
He saw the look in Harry's eyes, the look of battle. The battle within himself. His eyes constantly shifted between his normal eyes and the look of his eyes being glazed over.
Quite suddenly, he both jump and tried to prevent himself from jumping, the results of which caused him to smash headlong into the desk, knocking it over and landing by his kneecaps.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice. "Look at that, you lot...Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! Very good, Potter! Now, only one remains."
Professor Moody looked at Marcus and said, "Williams, your turn."
Marcus just sighed. Unfortunately for him, his senses decided to get all out of whack again before the start of the class, leaving the entire lesson so far battling against his mind turning into mush from all the seemingly point-blank conversations that his classmates were having.
Nevertheless, Marcus stood exactly where Harry was standing just a minute ago. He noticed the class looking at him eagerly, almost as if they were expecting to see a good show.
Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Marcus, and said, "Imperio!"
Marcus then experienced a rather strange phenomenon.
Part of him experienced a most wonderful feeling, like all of his worries and cares were just floating away.
The other part of him felt immediately violated, leaving him with a furious, mad desire to punch the clueless idiot into the ground.
And then he heard the voice of Mad-Eye Moody, echoing within a distant chamber of his mind: Take off your shirt...take off your shirt...
A wave of fear and anger washed over Marcus, furiously fighting back against the command of Mad-Eye's voice.
Take off your shirt...
"No, I won't do it," thought Marcus, even though his hands were creeping closer to the bottom of his shirt. "I won't do it!"
Take off your shirt!
"NO! I DON'T WANT EVERYONE TO SEE!"
Take off your shirt! NOW!
Suddenly, it happened.
His eyes flared up in intense pain, his hands (which were extremely close to the bottom of his shirt) balled into fists, and a loud, deep, and booming voice yelled out, "NEVER!"
His left fist slammed into the floor, giving it a surprisingly considerable shake, and he looked at Mad-Eye Moody with such anger and rage that it was a surprise that he didn't attack him then and there.
Suddenly, as quick as it happened, it stopped. Marcus' eyes returned to normal, the curse was lifted off him, and Marcus Williams found himself looking around, as if he was confused.
"Now that's the way to do it, Williams!" growled Moody. "You're a chip off the old block, no denying it there!" He then looked around the class and said, "Williams here was able to fight the curse almost entirely off from the beginning and found the necessary willpower at the end to beat it! Twenty-five points for Gryffindor for suceeding in beating the Imperius Curse, Williams!"
"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely like Marcus did), "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."
"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had much more difficulty with the curse than Marcus or Harry did, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid..." Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"
"Yeah, I hear you there, Ron," said Marcus, stroking his chin. "I've got my work cut out for me with Moody's assignemt, seeing as I never got my chance in class today."
Harry and Ron looked at him with great confusion and Ron said, "Are you mad? You were the most successful one in class today!"
"I don't think so," said Marcus. "One second, I feel the Imperius Curse cast upon me and, the next second, Moody's praising me for throwing it off for some stupid reason. I don't have any memory inbetween, so Moody must be going even crazier than we thought."
"You really don't remember you throwing it off?" asked Harry, who sounded quite worried.
"Like I said, Harry, not a clue," said Marcus, who was definitely not lying.
"Mate, I think you should get checked out by Madam Pomfrey," said Ron, looking quite worried.
"It's not that bad, I assure you," said Marcus, though this apparent lack of memory left him quite alarmed.
He was forced to put it to the side, however, when he noticed, along with the rest of the fourth years, that there was a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.
"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told him, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"
"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.
"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger and Mister Williams remains the only people in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"
While Hermione had turned pink from this praise and was fighting the urge not to look too pleased with herself, Marcus merely hid his face with his hands in sheer irritation. He was getting rather sick and tired of all the uneeded attention to himself.
Marcus watched with sheer exasperation when Professor Trelawney told Harry and Ron that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class, leaving Harry and Ron wearing looks of deep amusement. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but it was Marcus' turn to feel deeply amused when Harry and Ron were asked to do the same thing for the month after next; Marcus was quite sure that his two close friends were running fresh clean out of ideas.
Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. This one they all took seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.
Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project", suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.
"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."
Hagrid's smile faded off his face.
"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book...I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."
The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficently painful to stop him from retorting. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially considering Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.
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 four, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY -
"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have 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!" said Ernie Macmillian of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."
"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.
"He's not an idiot!" said Marcus rather hotly. "He's actually quite a genius! I've seen his capabilities first hand and, should he get chosen as the Hogwarts Champion, I'm quite confident that we'll win the whole thing!"
"I doubt that!" said Ron in a disgusted tone.
"You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "Besides being a really good student, he's also a prefect!"
She spoke as if this settled the matter entirely.
"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.
Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"
That evening in the Room of Requirement, Marcus asked Cedric, "So, Cedric, did you see the sign in the Great Hall?"
Cedric, who was in the middle of doing push-ups, said, "I didn't, but a fellow Hufflepuff encouraged me to put my name in for consideration as a Hogwarts Champion."
"Cedric, I really think you should enter," said Marcus.
Lorelei, who just got finished with her sit-ups, looked at Cedric and said, "Oh, Cedric, I think you'd do the school proud if you entered in and get selected. After all, you've taught me and Marcus so many things already!"
Cedric got a sheepish look on his face and said, "Well, I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I hadn't really considered it."
"I mean, come on," said Marcus. "Who else would make a great Triwizard Champion if not you?"
At this, both Cedric and Lorelei looked at him as if to answer his own question.
"Surely, the two of you are not implying that I would," said Marcus.
"Marcus, if it wasn't for the age restriction, I'm confident that you would get selected," said Cedric.
"Now, really, Cedric," said Marcus, getting rather defiant. "How would I make a good Triwizard Champion when I simply haven't learned enough yet?"
"Well, let's count the ways, shall we?" said Lorelei, who looked just as serious as Cedric was. "Your first year, you got past a Cerberian Hound and a series of traps meant to stymie adults."
"I hardly did any of that by myself," said Marcus flatly.
"Your second year, you took on a Basilisk in the bowels of Hogwarts and saved the school from a tyrannical-ridden book, acheiving your Animagus form in the process," stated Lorelei.
"Harry was with me, he contributed just as much as I did," Marcus said in the same flat tone.
"And, just last year, you helped me achieve my Animagus form, successfully learned to cast a corporeal Patronus Charm and prevented an innocent man's unlawful sentence to a fate worse than death!" Lorelei exclaimed.
"Once again, I had help with that, I didn't do anything you've listed off alone!" said Marcus, now getting quite irritated. "If selected for the Triwizard Tournament, I wouldn't have any support during the tasks themselves!"
"Well, in regards to your 'lack of knowledge', Marcus," stated Cedric, "You're already working with magic the likes of which sixth year students struggle to cast. And everyone knows you're the most physically fit person in Hogwarts."
"I'm this way because I will eventually be fighting The Dark Prince in a duel that will result in his death, mine, or both!" said Marcus, who was on the verge of yelling. "I don't have time to get caught up in some stupid, death-ridden tournament for the equally stupid reason of eternal glory and money!"
"The Triwizard Tournament would be a great evaluation of seeing how much progressed you've made overall, Marcus," said Cedric. "I don't think it would be a waste of time for you at all."
He then looked at Lorelei, who was looking at him with suspicion.
"What's wrong, Lorelei?" Marcus asked.
"There's something you're not telling anyone," said Lorelei. "Something about this tournament has you scared."
"Yeah, definitely not," said Marcus, even though he felt otherwise.
"You saw something about this tournament, haven't you?" asked Lorelei, getting closer to Marcus. "Sometime last year in Divination class, you must've saw something about the Triwizard Tournament that left you terrified! The Marcus I know would've been ever so eager to take on the Triwizard Tournament!"
"I'm just trying to focus on preparing myself for the eventual confrontation of The Dark Prince," said Marcus, trying to keep an even tone. "Besides, I've been trying to take on a more rational view of the things happening around me."
"Marcus," said Lorelei, taking Marcus' hands into hers, "Please, tell me. Confide in me, tell me what's going on that has you so scared. You don't have to hide it from me."
He looked at her face, her sparkling emerald eyes full of pleading and worry, and before he knew it, he felt his face getting hot, he felt a little bit flustered. Her hands felt so nice grabbing his.
"I don't know for sure why, Lorelei," said Marcus. "As soon as I know for sure, you'll be the first to know."
Lorelei gave a smile to him and let go of his hands.
Marcus looked to Cedric, who was watching in silence, and said, "Cedric, for my sake, put your name in the tournament. As selfish as this is going to sound, it will give me a more peace of mind if you did."
"If you insist, Marcus, then I believe I will," said Cedric. "Who knows? Could be fun."
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, no matter where Marcus went: 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 Beaxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
Marcus also noticed that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
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 Gryffindor, 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.
Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.
"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.
"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.
"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.
"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Marcus, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before..."
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.
Marcus was about to answer that question when Hermione beat him to the punch.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," she said, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Triwizard Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else beside Marcus had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
"What are you on about?" said Ron, though Marcus definitely knew the incoming answer to the question.
"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
Marcus rolled his eyes and forced his every attention to his scrambled eggs. Marcus', Harry's, and Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. While Harry and Ron had given in and paid Hermione the two Sickles necessary for the badges, Marcus was always two steps ahead of Hermione, having successfully dodged every attempt to make him buy a badge, largely because he had a house-elf of his own, Blinky, and it would've seemed awfully hypocrtical for him to be "advocating" house-elf rights when he owned one himself. Also, Marcus was right in believing that buying the badges would be a waste of time, as it made Hermione even more vociferous than before. She had been badgering Harry and Ron since the induction of the organization, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.
"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.
Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.
As Marcus was finishing up his breakfast, looking at the autumn sunlight bathing the ceiling, he saw Fred becoming extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge), and George leaned in toward Hermione, saying, "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"
"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -"
"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Marcus looked up at once, and saw Archie as well as Hedwig soaring toward them. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched as the two owls flew to their respective owners, holding out their legs rather wearily.
Marcus pulled his letter off Archie and had him eat what remained of his breakfast. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Marcus listened to Harry reading Sirius's letter in a whisper along with Ron and Hermione.
Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you and Marcus to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.
-Sirius
"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.
"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding...I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"
"Marcus, what about your letter?" Ron asked him.
"It's not from Sirius," Marcus lied as he pocketed the letter.
"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her. Hedwig hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into Harry's goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.
There was a rather 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, but that was only because it was a half-hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Marcus had to hurry up behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione getting up to Gryffindor Tower, depositing their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
The Head of Houses were ordering the students into lines.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."
Marcus made the attempt to put his hood over his head. However, he didn't get to raise it halfway over his head when he heard Professor McGonagall snap at him, "Williams, don't even think about putting that hood over your head!"
Marcus scowled as he lowered the hood onto his neck. He was hoping he wasn't going to stick out, but it looked like he wasn't to get what he wanted.
"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front...no pushing..."
THey filed down the stpes 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. Marcus, standing between Ron and Dean Thomas in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.
"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gate. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it," said Hermione.
"How then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.
"I don't think so...not from that far away..."
"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"
"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.
"Regardless, their entrance is going to be big and flashy," stated Marcus.
"How d'you reckon?" asked Ron.
"It's something your dad said back at the World Cup," stated Marcus. "'When wizards get together, we can't help but show off'."
Marcus then decided to enhance his vision as it was starting to get dark. He wasn't able to pick up anything that indicated the arrival of either European school.
After a while, he heard Dumbledore call out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -
"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beaxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Marcus looked to where the sixth year was pointing and narrowed his field of vision, causing it to zoom in on the incoming object.
"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.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to Marcus and Ron asked, "What is it actually?"
"A flying carriage," said Marcus as it was about to clear over the forest. "Drawn by a dozen humongous, flying palomino horses."
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled even 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.
Marcus was able to catch the emblem of the Beauxbatons Academy School (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before the doors to the carriage 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 Marcus 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.
Marcus, up to this point, had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted whether there was even an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. 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-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils,"" said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Marcus, 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, considering that their uniform was made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Marcus could tell (or as much as he could with the students standing in Madame Maxime's shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.
"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.
"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Marcus and Harry, grinning.
"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.
"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.
"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"
"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron hopefully.
"Oh don't say that," said Hermione with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds..."
"Yeah, I don't really feel like thinking about that," said Marcus who shuddered at the thought.
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. But then -
"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.
Marcus listened; upon hearing 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...
Marcus, who returned his vision to normal upon her exit from the carriage, enhanced it once again and looked to the lake, where he saw vastly different auras around a nautical structure coming up to the surface.
"Everyone, look to the lake!" yelled Marcus, pointing at it.
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. Marcus could see the rising of the ship taking place deep in the center of the lake, causing great bubbles to form on the surface. Waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the middle of the lake, a whirpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...
Marcus began to see the long, black pole of the mast rising slowly out of the heart of the whirpool, the rigging beginning to rise...
"It's a mast!" Harry said to Marcus, Ron, and Hermione.
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, Marcus noticed, 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, Marcus 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," Dumbeldore replied.
Karkaroff had a fruity, unnecessaryily flattering 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 (finishing in a small curl) 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 Marcus 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 had a slight head cold..."
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Marcus' eyes grew wide as he glimpsed a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.
"Marcus, Harry - it's Krum!"
And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this'll help me refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask them and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
