Sorry this has taken SO LONG to get posted--I've been traveling and haven't been able to access my files. Thanks for your
patience and for wading through all this. Is it too heavy on dialogue?? I'm trying to get to the crux of the plot, but
I keep getting distracted by details and character development. What do you think? Too much? Too little? I take all
reviews seriously, so please please please critique and review! thanks!
***
Harry and Ron met up with Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. She took one look at them and promptly rolled her eyes.
"Honestly. You'd think one Quidditch match was the end of the world. It wasn't even Gryfinndor that lost!!"
Harry and Ron looked at each other. There were some things Hermione would never understand. Ron shifted his books impatiently.
"For the millionth time, Hermione!! We needed Ravenclaw to win this one--If Slytherin has too many points by the time we play
them--and we all know Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance without...." He trailed off into an awkward silence as he realized where
the statement was going.
"It's OK!" Harry burst out suddenly. "Everyone's been walking on pins and needles around me all year--His name was Cedric, Cedric
Diggory, and he's dead."
He had spoken louder than he had intended, and the hallway fell into an awkward silence. The normally chaotic flow of people
towards the Great Hall stopped as everyone turned to stare at Harry. Heat rose up his cheeks. "C'mon," he muttered, as he, Ron,
and Hermione continued onward. After a moment, somewhat cautiously, the other students reassumed their noise.
Harry kept his head down till they entered the Great Hall. It had been over seven months since Cedric's death--a very long seven
months. Most of the summer he had spent at the Dursley's, who hadn't even read the letter Dumbledore had sent with Harry to explain
about the situation--not, Harry thought, that they would care. He could just hear Uncle Vernon's voice--"Why should I be surprised
that one of...of your kind got killed? If he were just normal like the rest of us...now, about those thousand gold whatever they're
called...."
The only relief of the stay was that Dudley's diet had been an utter failure, so Aunt Petunia had cooked real meals again. The
Dursleys had resigned themselves to hiring a tailor to make Dudley's uniforms--"Surely, for a young man as big and strong as my
Dudleykins, we can get some decent clothing," Aunt Petunia had said, with a sideways glance at Harry as if to say that robes, or
course, were most definitely not proper attire for any respectable person.
A reverie had come at the end of summer, when he had stayed at the Weasley's for the few weeks before the start of term. Even
those weeks had been a bit awkward--Mrs. Weasley fussed over Harry so much that Fred and George finally took it upon themselves
to cause as much disruption as possible so that Harry could sneak outside unnoticed (although Harry suspected they would have
caused trouble whether he'd been there or not). Hermione had joined them, of course, and between the three of them, things had
really gone quite well. It was only during certain moments, Harry thought, like that of a few minutes ago, that things became awkward.
Upon arriving back at Hogwarts, however, things came back in full force. No one knew what to say, so most people didn't say much at
all. Even the staff seemed subdued--Snape was grouchier than ever, and Dumbledore looked like he had aged several years over the summer.
This wasn't surprising, Harry realised, considering what was happening with Voldemort and his supporters. Although nothing on the scale
of events which had happened at the Tri-Wizard Tournament had made the Daily Prophet over the summer (Hermione made sure to update him
via Owl Post), Harry and Ron had overheard Mr. Weasley discussing the situation with Mrs. Weasley several times. Apparently, the actions
of the Death Eaters had been escalating. Several sightings had occurred, and three Muggles had been killed in what the London Times termed
a "freak train accident" that the Ministry knew was no accident at all. Even the information Crouch Jr. had provided hadn't been enough
to make any arrests, although Mr. Weasley seemed to spend a great deal of time looking for loopholes. Whatever information Harry and Ron
learned from Mr. Weasley, directly or indirectly, was confirmed by Sirius, whose letters still came, but even less frequently than before.
Harry worried about him--whatever work Dumbledore had assigned to him probably wasn't too far away from Britain, increasing the odds of his
recapture. And now, even Quidditch had been going poorly. Gryfinndor had won its first match against Ravenclaw, but just barely, and now
Ravenclaw had lost miserably to Slytherin, which was not a good sign. Slytherin, it seemed, had acquired some inspiration from recent events,
and had been playing that much more aggressively. Plus, they had gained an incredible Beater--Kako Silven, a freshman whose grandfather had
been on the Cerphilly Catapults the year they won the European Cup, and who had apparently passed on the tradition to his grandson. To make
matters worse, Silven seemed to idolize Malfoy.
"But," interjected Hermione, apparently in an attempt to lift the oppressive mood which had settled, "We could still beat Slytherin, and
we'll probably beat Hufflepuff as well, so...we're still in good shape." Ron just shook his head as the three entered the Hall.
Fred and George Weasley were already seated at the Gryfinndor table. "Moping again?" George asked incredulously. "How many
times has it been this week?"
"How can you be surprised?" asked Ron grumpily.
"Try this," Fred suggested, pushing a cellophane-wrapped piece of chocolate towards them. "It'll make you feel better."
"Not a chance," Harry said. After nearly a year of exposure to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, including Salivating Strawberry Suckers
(which made you drool uncontrollably), and Catnip Caramels (which made you grow whiskers and had, unfortunately, been first
offered to Hermione), they had all learned to avoid anything and everything Fred and George offered them.
"Fine then," said George, "Insult us--"
"Wound the very being of our souls--"
"Crush our humble dreams--"
Ron rolled his eyes as a huge bulk of students entered the Hall.
"--We're having chocolate custard tonight, by the way."
"So?" Ron asked.
George lowered his voice. "I just wouldn't have any if I were--." He stopped talking as other students sat down
beside them. Harry looked at them and grinned.
Hermione looked horrified. "You didn't. . .," she whispered.
Fred winked, then stopped and looked towards the door. "What's this?" he asked.
"Nice try, Fred," said Ron.
"No, honestly," George interjected. "We aren't always causing trouble. It's one of our major shortcomings.
Think that's the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher?"
Everyone turned and looked towards the door, where McGonagall had just entered, followed shortly by another woman.
"Well, she'd be better to look at than Snape."
"Ron." Hermione stared at him, shocked. "She might be your teacher." Personally, Harry thought Ron was right;
anyone would be better to look at than Snape, who had been filling in since the start of the school year.
Apparently, the fact that Hogwarts' DADA teachers rarely lasted more than a year had not gone unnoticed by potential
job applicants.
The woman was young--older than they, of course, with an upright step and long, slightly curling brown hair
tucked into a ponytail that bounced when she moved--and seemed to have a branch stuck in it. Could that be
right? Harry looked closer--yes, she definitely had some leaves tangled in her hair.
"She does a good impression of a bush, at least," George quipped.
"Could be useful," Fred pointed out. "Deceiving Your Enemy, Lesson One: Becoming One with the Flora."
Hermione shook her head. "Look at McGonagall." Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed--an expression which
Harry and Ron, with all their misadventures, knew meant trouble. Without glancing backwards, she led the
young woman to the centre of the hall, in front of the staff table. As the other students settled down,
Dumbledore stood, holding out his hands for attention.
patience and for wading through all this. Is it too heavy on dialogue?? I'm trying to get to the crux of the plot, but
I keep getting distracted by details and character development. What do you think? Too much? Too little? I take all
reviews seriously, so please please please critique and review! thanks!
***
Harry and Ron met up with Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. She took one look at them and promptly rolled her eyes.
"Honestly. You'd think one Quidditch match was the end of the world. It wasn't even Gryfinndor that lost!!"
Harry and Ron looked at each other. There were some things Hermione would never understand. Ron shifted his books impatiently.
"For the millionth time, Hermione!! We needed Ravenclaw to win this one--If Slytherin has too many points by the time we play
them--and we all know Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance without...." He trailed off into an awkward silence as he realized where
the statement was going.
"It's OK!" Harry burst out suddenly. "Everyone's been walking on pins and needles around me all year--His name was Cedric, Cedric
Diggory, and he's dead."
He had spoken louder than he had intended, and the hallway fell into an awkward silence. The normally chaotic flow of people
towards the Great Hall stopped as everyone turned to stare at Harry. Heat rose up his cheeks. "C'mon," he muttered, as he, Ron,
and Hermione continued onward. After a moment, somewhat cautiously, the other students reassumed their noise.
Harry kept his head down till they entered the Great Hall. It had been over seven months since Cedric's death--a very long seven
months. Most of the summer he had spent at the Dursley's, who hadn't even read the letter Dumbledore had sent with Harry to explain
about the situation--not, Harry thought, that they would care. He could just hear Uncle Vernon's voice--"Why should I be surprised
that one of...of your kind got killed? If he were just normal like the rest of us...now, about those thousand gold whatever they're
called...."
The only relief of the stay was that Dudley's diet had been an utter failure, so Aunt Petunia had cooked real meals again. The
Dursleys had resigned themselves to hiring a tailor to make Dudley's uniforms--"Surely, for a young man as big and strong as my
Dudleykins, we can get some decent clothing," Aunt Petunia had said, with a sideways glance at Harry as if to say that robes, or
course, were most definitely not proper attire for any respectable person.
A reverie had come at the end of summer, when he had stayed at the Weasley's for the few weeks before the start of term. Even
those weeks had been a bit awkward--Mrs. Weasley fussed over Harry so much that Fred and George finally took it upon themselves
to cause as much disruption as possible so that Harry could sneak outside unnoticed (although Harry suspected they would have
caused trouble whether he'd been there or not). Hermione had joined them, of course, and between the three of them, things had
really gone quite well. It was only during certain moments, Harry thought, like that of a few minutes ago, that things became awkward.
Upon arriving back at Hogwarts, however, things came back in full force. No one knew what to say, so most people didn't say much at
all. Even the staff seemed subdued--Snape was grouchier than ever, and Dumbledore looked like he had aged several years over the summer.
This wasn't surprising, Harry realised, considering what was happening with Voldemort and his supporters. Although nothing on the scale
of events which had happened at the Tri-Wizard Tournament had made the Daily Prophet over the summer (Hermione made sure to update him
via Owl Post), Harry and Ron had overheard Mr. Weasley discussing the situation with Mrs. Weasley several times. Apparently, the actions
of the Death Eaters had been escalating. Several sightings had occurred, and three Muggles had been killed in what the London Times termed
a "freak train accident" that the Ministry knew was no accident at all. Even the information Crouch Jr. had provided hadn't been enough
to make any arrests, although Mr. Weasley seemed to spend a great deal of time looking for loopholes. Whatever information Harry and Ron
learned from Mr. Weasley, directly or indirectly, was confirmed by Sirius, whose letters still came, but even less frequently than before.
Harry worried about him--whatever work Dumbledore had assigned to him probably wasn't too far away from Britain, increasing the odds of his
recapture. And now, even Quidditch had been going poorly. Gryfinndor had won its first match against Ravenclaw, but just barely, and now
Ravenclaw had lost miserably to Slytherin, which was not a good sign. Slytherin, it seemed, had acquired some inspiration from recent events,
and had been playing that much more aggressively. Plus, they had gained an incredible Beater--Kako Silven, a freshman whose grandfather had
been on the Cerphilly Catapults the year they won the European Cup, and who had apparently passed on the tradition to his grandson. To make
matters worse, Silven seemed to idolize Malfoy.
"But," interjected Hermione, apparently in an attempt to lift the oppressive mood which had settled, "We could still beat Slytherin, and
we'll probably beat Hufflepuff as well, so...we're still in good shape." Ron just shook his head as the three entered the Hall.
Fred and George Weasley were already seated at the Gryfinndor table. "Moping again?" George asked incredulously. "How many
times has it been this week?"
"How can you be surprised?" asked Ron grumpily.
"Try this," Fred suggested, pushing a cellophane-wrapped piece of chocolate towards them. "It'll make you feel better."
"Not a chance," Harry said. After nearly a year of exposure to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, including Salivating Strawberry Suckers
(which made you drool uncontrollably), and Catnip Caramels (which made you grow whiskers and had, unfortunately, been first
offered to Hermione), they had all learned to avoid anything and everything Fred and George offered them.
"Fine then," said George, "Insult us--"
"Wound the very being of our souls--"
"Crush our humble dreams--"
Ron rolled his eyes as a huge bulk of students entered the Hall.
"--We're having chocolate custard tonight, by the way."
"So?" Ron asked.
George lowered his voice. "I just wouldn't have any if I were--." He stopped talking as other students sat down
beside them. Harry looked at them and grinned.
Hermione looked horrified. "You didn't. . .," she whispered.
Fred winked, then stopped and looked towards the door. "What's this?" he asked.
"Nice try, Fred," said Ron.
"No, honestly," George interjected. "We aren't always causing trouble. It's one of our major shortcomings.
Think that's the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher?"
Everyone turned and looked towards the door, where McGonagall had just entered, followed shortly by another woman.
"Well, she'd be better to look at than Snape."
"Ron." Hermione stared at him, shocked. "She might be your teacher." Personally, Harry thought Ron was right;
anyone would be better to look at than Snape, who had been filling in since the start of the school year.
Apparently, the fact that Hogwarts' DADA teachers rarely lasted more than a year had not gone unnoticed by potential
job applicants.
The woman was young--older than they, of course, with an upright step and long, slightly curling brown hair
tucked into a ponytail that bounced when she moved--and seemed to have a branch stuck in it. Could that be
right? Harry looked closer--yes, she definitely had some leaves tangled in her hair.
"She does a good impression of a bush, at least," George quipped.
"Could be useful," Fred pointed out. "Deceiving Your Enemy, Lesson One: Becoming One with the Flora."
Hermione shook her head. "Look at McGonagall." Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed--an expression which
Harry and Ron, with all their misadventures, knew meant trouble. Without glancing backwards, she led the
young woman to the centre of the hall, in front of the staff table. As the other students settled down,
Dumbledore stood, holding out his hands for attention.