September 1, 1994
"The Tri-Wizard Tournament? But isn't that banned? How did you find out about this, anyway?" Harry questioned.
"Severus, of course. Overheard him bitching about 'more security' and 'now Karkaroff's going to be skulking about.' Then he said, 'Tri-Wizard Tournament' and I figured everything out," Draco bragged.
"You had to wait for Snape to literally say what the thing was before you figured it out? Quite the detective there, Sherlock," Hermione sneered.
"Who's Sherlock?" Draco asked.
"Who's Sherlock!? Who's Sherlock!?" Harry shouted with indignation. "What the bloody hell do you mean 'Who's Sherlock'?!"
Hermione and Harry spent the rest of the train ride giving their pureblood friends and education in all things muggle media. When Hermione commented that if Harry already knew this, why didn't they? Harry just allowed that they weren't as brilliant as him. Insults were quickly interspersed, entertaining the teens until they arrived at Hogwarts for another year.
The only change in classes was so predictable it wasn't even a change. Former Auror Moody was teaching Defense classes. Professor Moody ushered the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors into his classroom, his magical eye roaming over them. He scoffed as a few Slytherins walked in and Harry noted that their parents were convicted Death Eaters.
"We'll be startin' with Unforgivables. Who can tell me why they're called that?" Moody asked as the last students settled themselves in their seats. Hermione's hand went straight into the air.
"Which one are you?" Moody asked, his enchanted eye landing on her.
"Granger, Sir. Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.
"Gonna tell us the answer or not, Granger?" Moody questioned.
"Unforgivables are called such because they are viewed as unforgivable in the eyes of the general public, Sir," Hermione answered.
"Very good. 5 points to Gryffindor. Can anyone else tell me what exactly these curses are? You, blondie," Moody said, pointing his cane at Draco.
"Um… Imperius, Sir?" Draco answered hesitantly.
"It will be important to note that, unless otherwise stated, I ask the questions and you lot do the answering. So, one more time, Malfoy, if you please. Oh, and this time try to sound less like a coward. Your father already has the Malfoy market on that," Moody instructed.
"Imperius curse, Sir," Draco gritted out.
"Interesting you should choose that one, Malfoy. If I remember correctly, your daddy tried to use that to escape Azkaban. Now, Longbottom, tell me another," Moody commanded, his eye backflipping into his skull to find Neville.
"Cru-cruciatus, Sir," Neville stuttered.
"Ah yes, you know all about that curse, don't you?" Moody said, this time, more sympathetic. "Good your parents avoided it last war and all. Potter, you might as well round this out. Tell us all about the last curse," Moody said, turning on the boy.
"Avada Kedavra, Sir. The Killing Curse. And before you say anything, yeah, Voldemort did get my parents with it," Harry said, his tone clipped as he tried so hard to be respectful.
"Very good, Potter, but you forgot to mention one other part: That you're the sole survivor in history of the Killing Curse," Moody needled.
"Nothing like getting a scar on my head and a lifetime of issues, Sir," Harry quipped.
"Now, let's see these in action. The Ministry wants you to wait until you're a sixth year, as they don't think you'll be ready to handle them until then. I think we just proved that is utter shite. At least three of the students in this room faced these curses before they turned two. I'm sure a group of fourth years like yourselves can handle seeing them," Moody instructed, waving his wand and summoning a jar of spiders.
What happened next would traumatize the students for the rest of the year. For a light wizard, Alastor Moody was incredibly proficient in the three darkest curses, as classified by the Ministry. He explained as he hurled his Imperioused spider about, that many Death Eaters were successful in escaping Azkaban when claiming to be under this curse. His false eye landed on Theodore Nott as he said this, then swept across the entire Slytherin group.
Moody ignored Neville's green face as he moved on to torture his spider. He explained the concept and that it was entirely possible to drive a witch or wizard insane with a well placed Cruicio. Several students, not just Neville, started feeling very ill, knowing their parents were familiar with one side or the other of this curse.
Finally, Moody simply flicked his wand and said, "Avada Kedavra."
No one moved. In the moments following the demonstration, the students were afraid their professor was cracked and would turn their wand on them. These fears were unfounded, yet totally realistic in the minds of the average fourteen-year-old.
"Avada Kedavra. Simple as that. You don't even particularly have to mean it. With a crucio, intent is half the power. That's why Voldemort's the last person you want to be tortured by. And mark my words, kiddies, he's back. He's back and he won't give a rat's arse if you're 'of age' or not. So, you'd do best to prepare yourselves. Class dismissed," Moody warned, flicking his wand and opening the door. The slightly terrified fourth years gathered their things quickly and scurried as silently as possible from the tense atmosphere.
"I do know one thing," Neville announced as the group left the Defense classroom. "That's not my Uncle Moody."
The student's fear of Professor Moody only increased a few days later, during on of Draco and Harry's now infamous slanging matches.
"Maybe if you would start following the rules in class, we all wouldn't have detention," Harry gripped. "It isn't like Moody is going to use an unforgivable curse on us!"
"Who knows, that little display in class didn't exactly scream 'I'm an Auror,'" Draco said standing in front of Harry. Neville and Ron trying to pull their friends away from the other.
"And you would know what an Auror would like like?" Harry scoffed, literally going toe-to-toe with Draco.
Draco set his jaw as he pulled out his wand. "Have something to say about my family Potter? Last time I checked, my family raised you instead of the disgrace of blood family you have."
"My family isn't filled with murders and elitist arseholes," Harry said pulling for his wand.
From the other side of the courtyard, Ginny and Luna watched, like the rest of the school, as the two friends embarrassed themselves. Ginny groaned, rushing over to grab at Harry's robes, breaking him off in the middle of another insult. "Ron, get him out of here," Ginny told Harry, taking his wand from his hand.
After another glare, Harry turned his back to his friend, walking away.
"Figures you'd listen to a Weasley since they are the only ones who can tolerate you and your hellacious attitude!" Draco yelled at him his wand still in hand.
The rest happened faster than anyone could comprehend. Before Harry and Ron could turn around, Draco had been transformed into a ferret. There were only two reactions from the bystanders: laughter or shock.
"You never bring your wand to someone who has their back to you!" Moody yelled as Malfoy/ferret bounced in the air.
"Get McGonagall," Neville told Ginny, watching the scene. Before he even finished, Ginny was running away.
It only took a moment for McGonagall to find the scene. Harry and Ron were laughing as Neville looked like he was going to lose his lunch as Draco bounced up and down in the air.
"Alastor! We never use transfiguration on a student! Dumbledore must have told you that!" she yelled, transforming Draco back into a human.
"He may have mentioned it," Moody scuffed.
"Miss. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, get your friend to the hospital wing. Everyone else, get to class!" McGonagall roared.
"I reiterate," Neville said, following Ginny, leading Draco to the infirmary, "that is not my Uncle Moody."
October 30, 1994
When the Beauxbaton carriage fell from the sky, Hermione and Ginny gasped, but Luna wasn't a bit surprised.
"Just wait till you see the Durmstrang entrance," Luna said, staring vaguely over Hermione's shoulder.
"Durmstrang?" Hermione asked as the Beauxbaton girls ran past them, shivering in the early fall wind of Scotland. "Why are they underdressed? Didn't their Headmistress warn them about the weather around here?"
"She most certainly did not!" One of them, a gorgeous older girl, shouted, running into the warmth of the Great Hall.
"That's rude of her," Ginny scoffed, staring at the giant woman speaking with Dumbledore.
"Is that… It's Durmstrang. In the Black Lake," Hermione shouted, distracted at the sight of the ship now anchored on the shore.
Durmstrang may have been known to adults as the 'Dark School of Europe,' but in the fall of 1994, it became popularly known as the 'School of Hotties' amongst the teen girls of Hogwarts and the visiting Beauxbaton. As Viktor Krum led the charge off the boat, giggles could be heard all over the courtyard.
"You were right, Ginny. This is going to be a great year," Hermione giggled as Viktor Krum winked at them.
"I can't wait!" Ginny laughed. "Maybe we can talk him into going flying with us!"
"Oh, honestly. Is that all you think about? What if he doesn't always want to be an international Quidditch star?" Hermione's demeanor changed suddenly. "There is more to life than catching a snitch, you know."
"I know that. I'm the only Weasley at school that knows that " Ginny rolled her eyes.
"You do have a point," Hermione tapped her chin ponderously.
"Think too hard and you'll let the Nargles infest your brain," Luna informed Hermione.
"Whatever you say, Luna," Hermione replied, refusing to understand the Luna's worldview.
The girls followed the crowd of staring students inside, ready to see what this tournament would bring.
"No one under 17. Did you hear that 'Mione, no one under 17? There's no way this can backfire," Harry said joyfully.
"'No way this can backfire'? Harry, I can think of at least 15 ways this can backfire. I'm sure, at this moment, the twins have at least 12% of a plan to make this 'age-line' their plaything!" Hermione ranted as they headed up to Gryffindor Tower.
"Right-o, Granger! We've got a plan in the works!" Fred and George confirmed, blowing past the fourth year Gryffindors. "Has anyone seen Ginny?"
"She's with Luna, getting in some pranks, I believe," Neville informed the group quietly.
"Of course, she is," Fred said with pride.
"She's one of the family," George wiped away a fake tear of joy.
"Oi, what am I, chopped liver?" Ron scowled.
"Naw, you're just Harry's nancy-boy sidekick," Fred shrugged dismissively.
"Now, twin-o-mine, let's find the girls and get on with Quidditch team shenanigans," George suggested, and away they went, plotting the first big party of the year.
"Those two know how to boost the confidence of everyone they meet, don't they?" Seamus asked, staring at the twins' retreating backs.
"I'd say you get used to it, but I've been living with them for 14 years and I still wish they'd succeeded in losing me Diagon Alley. At least then I could have been placed with some family that has an excuse not to know my name," Ron said, revealing more bitterness than normal.
"And to think, Draco's afraid of being replaced by one sibling," Harry said, staring at his best friend. "I think he must have been an only child in another reality."
"Oh sure, and Dumbledore succeeded in leaving you with your nutty aunt and uncle, where you were abused and neglected until you finally came to Hogwarts," Hermione sneered, smacking Harry upside his head. "This is why alternate realities aren't real, no matter how much trash science fiction Sirius lets you watch. It's ridiculous."
"Oh come off it, 'Mione! You just hate Doctor Who because it's in reruns until the BBC pulls it's head out its arse!" Harry defended, launching the wizarding teens into yet another muggle based argument, setting the tone for the year.
The age line was set by Dumbledore. That was enough of a reason for Fred and George as anything else. That a thousand galleons went to the winner was a mere afterthought, or so they told themselves. Hermione was there, watching the proceedings, judging the students with her ever-critical eye. If they weren't trying so hard to get in themselves, they would be there with her, making bets about who the three champions would be.
They burst into the Great Hall to the applause of their school mates. This was for all of the sixth years that were born after Halloween. For all the students that weren't 'of age' on a technicality. As Professor Moody accurately pointed out, the war didn't care about age, so this mere game shouldn't either. Why were school children being allowed to take risks that most adults were afraid of?
"It's not going to work," Hermione sing-songed, closing her book.
"Oh," Fred started, afraid that the intuitive witch was right.
"And why do you think that?" George finished, settling down beside her.
"Because," Hermione scoffed, then collected herself, "Dumbledore created that age line. Even the two of you have to respect the kind of power he can wield if he wants to. Of course, we won't debate why this is the time he chooses to use his strength."
"Why don't you think we can beat it with simple aging potions?" Fred needled.
"Because it's too simple. Anyone could come up with that. Aging yourself will be a dead giveaway. You'd end up being too old to be a student," Hermione explained.
"Ah, but that's where we win, Granger," George smirked.
"We're only aging ourselves up to 17," Fred finished.
"And what, exactly, are you going to do about your magical cores?" Hermione questioned.
"Just watch," The twins said in unison, not wanting to think about what she'd just implied.
They twisted their arms together, throwing back the age potion like shots of firewhiskey after a Quidditch game. They didn't appear to age at all, which was the point of so slight an aging potion. They crossed the line successfully to the cheers of their fellow sixth years. Together, they tossed their names into the Goblet, ready for a shot at glory.
At first, it seemed like everything was perfect. After those precious few seconds of success, the Goblet lit itself on fire and tossed the burnt bits of their names back out at them. Then, to add insult to injury, they were tossed out of the circle as old men. The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers as the two wrestled with each other, trying to assign blame for their failure. Hermione Granger, however, sat in the melee, smirking at the two as if a queen amused by the court jesters. "I warned you," was all she said, returning to her studies.
Halloween, 1994
"I can't believe Hagrid fancies himself in love with Madame Maxime!" Ron exclaimed as he, Harry, and Hermione walked away from Hagrid's hut after their semi-regular meeting with their favorite groundskeeper and second favorite professor. (Professor McGonagall obviously came first in their hearts, no matter how strict she was.)
"I can't believe he thought the blast-end skrewts were an effective teaching tool," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, is anyone really surprised that they are killing each other off?"
"Oh Hermione, you're just upset because there's no research material on them," Harry laughed lightly. "Now, let's get back up to the school so we can see what poor chum is going to risk death so I don't have to this year!
The loud chattering of supper was silenced by Dumbledore tapping his wand on the podium at the front of the Great Hall. Students quieted quickly, wanting to know who would be their champions. The Goblet of Fire sparked and tossed out a bit of singed paper.
"The first champion is Viktor Krum from Durmstrang!" Dumbledore announced clearly to the room. Viktor looked pleased but unsurprised as his fellow classmates clapped him on the back and congratulated him.
"Quiet! Quiet! The next champion from Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore's second announcement was met with even more cheers than before. The female population was apparently surprised and pleased with the second competitor.
"Finally, from Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!" Hufflepuff deafened the crowd with their shouts of joy. The three champions stood up and swaggered their way towards the front of the room. Just as they exited through a side door into a separate chamber for their debriefing, the goblet lit up one last time. The piece of paper that fluttered out landed in Dumbledore's hand innocently at first. Dumbledore looked at it, but whatever was written on the slip of paper made his face turn purple with rage.
"Harry Potter," was all he had to say for the previous atmosphere to disappear and for silence to fill the hall. "Harry Potter!" Dumbledore repeated with more malice. "Harry Potter! Didja put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"
Dumbledore hunted Harry's face through the sea of students, going from table to table as if he wouldn't be sitting with Gryffindor on this night.
Harry's head dropped to the table as all he could say was, "Shit."
Gabs: Yay! Posted faster than we thought it would!
Kat: Yay one more paper to go! For this semester!
Gabs: You made a life choice. You said, "I want more money, Gabs. I'm going to get a Masters." This was all your own doing.
Kat: On a better note, there are 15.5 days left of school with students!
Gabs: Yay, Kat! I've got three months until I'm free.
Kat: I'll come see you. *Insert sarcasm*I looove soil sample and talking about our story in the middle of a field. So, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews and adds.
Gabs: So many adds! So quickly! And the reviews! They were gold!
Kat: Thus the fast update. Keep'm coming.
Gabs: We own nothing. Not a thing. Pity us. Or review. It's the same thing, really.
XOXO
Gabs & Kat
