The school year started out just the same as it always had: with old friends, a new D.A.D.A. professor, a handful of firsties, and the same old inter-house rivalries.
There was something else, though; something Beth only noticed several weeks into the school year. Sometimes in the library, at meals or between classes, she would catch snatches of conversation between other houses. The riots at the World Cup would be mentioned -- the Dark Mark in the sky -- the crowd of Death Eaters, the Muggles they had captured, the damage they had done, the fear they had caused. Beth had read all about it in an (admittedly sensationalized) article in the Daily Prophet; none of this was news. But she realized that none of her classmates had ever spoken of it. No speculation in the common room ... no reminiscences, even though many of them had surely been there ... nothing. The whole of Slytherin house, for any number of reasons, was pretending that it had never happened.
For that matter, Beth's family hadn't spoken of it either. All of them had read the article, and Lycaeon had gone deathly pale at the first sight of the huge skull glinting up from its photograph on the front page, but there had been no conversation ... no acknowledgement. She thought of asking Melissa or Bruce about what they had seen, but she was Slytherin enough to recognize a purposeful silence when she saw it, and didn't break the unspoken rule.
So instead of worrying about Death Eaters on the prowl and classmates who seemed more secretive than usual, Beth concentrated on the comparatively easy things. Her Alchemy project, for one. She was still going through ideas like the Weasleys in Zonko's. It was such an important grade that she couldn't risk choosing the wrong subject, and yet the longer she waited, the less time she had to actually work on it.
Richard came up in her thoughts a lot too. He had been nothing but friendly towards her since school started ... which was nice, she admitted, but she had hoped for something more. Maybe if she just kept waiting ...?
Of course, she spent a lot of time worrying over her poison ivy, which had flared up in early October and was now down to a rough crust all the way from the base of her thumb to her elbow. She had even had it in between her fingers for one miserable week; after that, Madame Pomfrey had resorted to a stronger itching potion and dire threats concerning what would happen if she laid hands on it again.
In general, though, there was nothing new under the sun -- nothing that hadn't been happening at Hogwarts for the past thousand years. So it was no surprise that on the day before Halloween, when two sets of foreign visitors were due to arrive, the school rose to the occasion in fine style.
That evening, just as a dim and shady dusk was settling over the grounds, Professor Snape herded his flock upstairs into the Entrance Hall and lined them up by year. It was easier said than done. The firsties, who wouldn't follow an order if their lives depended on it, kept trying to creep off into the wrong row. The older students were quite distracted by the other houses lining up around them. The seventh-year boys nearly came to blows over who got to stand behind Antigone von Dervish, while Antigone, oblivious to them, laboriously read out of a slender dictionary.
"Je embrasse ... tu embrasses ... il embrasse ..."
"They're going to be here any moment," said Melissa derisively, to Antigone's left.
"Then there's still time," said Antigone acidly, and went on with her conjugations.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
Beth let out a shriek and jumped a foot in the air. She landed and whirled around in time to see Aaron Pucey collapse to the floor laughing.
"Why -- you -- little --"
Beth threw herself on top of Aaron and started beating on his chest with both fists. That only made him laugh harder and try to fight her off by tickling her -- a hard thing to defend yourself from -- and soon they were both crying with laughter, faces flushed, hair in disarray.
Snape's cold voice broke over them. "Mr. Pucey. Miss Parson. I wonder if you would be so kind as to join us."
They scrambled to their feet and took their places among the other sixth-years. Melissa gave them a disapproving look. Beth waited until Professor Snape had turned away before trying to put her bushy hair back in order (a lost cause in any circumstances).
Everyone had been arranged by then; the other three houses were similarly lined up and making their way outside, into the cool October night.
"I beg you not to humiliate yourselves," Professor Snape murmured, pacing back and forth before them as if he were a brooding general. "We are, after all, the elite of the school, the best Hogwarts has to offer ... and every student at Durmstrang will be sure to know it."
"They will once they've met us, sir," said Draco proudly, standing a bit straighter.
"They had better," said Snape coldly, and with a jerk of his head he turned and led his students through the Entrance Hall, out the door, and down the great stone steps to the front of the castle.
It was nearly dark outside; the students stood in ranks under the light of a pale moon. From here, they had a wonderful view of the Hogwarts grounds, from the lake, vast and dark, to the Forbidden Forest, so dense that it seemed to be made not of thousands of trees but one enormous, ancient plant. Far away, Beth thought she could even make out the glimmer of lights in Hogsmeade Village. An unexpected longing leapt up and clenched her heart. She hadn't realized how beautiful Hogwarts was, how much she loved it ... and how much she would miss it. Two more years, she thought again.
"Portkey, I'm thinking," said Aaron from a few spaces away, and Beth realized with a start that her classmates had been conversing around her. "They're each bringing a good dozen, how else would you do it so easily?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Melissa snorted, at Beth's right. "Portkeys are so vulgar and common. Any school as grand as these two can surely come up with something more elegant."
"Quite right," said Antigone von Dervish. "If I were making an entrance before such an audience, I'd come in on a white winged horse, with ivy garlands and a silver tiara ..."
"If you were making an entrance, everyone'd turn and run," Aaron grinned, at the same time that Mervin grumbled, "Please, I don't want to think about winged horses again until July."
Antigone, unable to glare at both of them at the same time, contented herself with tossing her hair and staring icily out at the grounds.
"Aha!"
It was Dumbledore, voice booming from the back row of teachers. Many students swiveled their heads to look at him.
"Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" several students cried at once.
Bruce, looking skyward, shot out an arm and pointed over the Forbidden Forest. "There!"
Every head turned to where he pointed. Over the tops of the trees, something was growing ever larger as it rocketed toward them, a round spot in the violet sky that was now the size of a grape, now a pumpkin, now very near the size of a house --
"It's a dragon!" one of the first-years shrieked, inspiring general panic among her peers.
"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!" yelled another first-year.
For several moments it was impossible to tell which of them, if either, was right. Then, as it came into the lights of Hogwarts, the massive object was revealed to be a carriage -- if carriages are towed by huge winged horses and get to be as big as the common room. It was round and luminous, pale blue and trimmed with gold.
Mervin let out a loud groan. "Not winged horses. I thought I was done with those 'til the summer--"
Anything else he might have said was obscured in the earth-shaking crash that the coach made in its landing. Two rows ahead, Longbottom leapt about a foot in the air and came down on Evan Wilkes's foot, who spat, "Get off it, Squib!" and shoved him back into rank.
"Hush, Evan," Melissa whispered impatiently. "They're getting out!"
A boy in robes that matched the carriage had leaped out and released a set of steps, and now stood like a sentinel at the door of the carriage. Every eye watched the opening, waiting for someone to come out.
Someone did ... quite a lot of someone, in fact. The woman that emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage was handsome, black-haired and bedecked with opals, and was roughly the size of a baby whale. There were gasps from the crowd.
"Good heavens, are they all that big?" Mervin murmured.
"I thought it was Beauxbatons, not Brobdingnag," Bruce murmured back.
Luckily, just then Dumbledore began to clap, and soon the whole school had joined into the applause -- which conveniently hid Aaron's uncontrollable sniggering. The large woman approached Headmaster Dumbledore and graciously accepted a kiss on the hand. "My dear Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Will she fit?" choked Aaron, and ducked his head under a fit of muffled laughter.
Madame Maxime's voice was resonant. "Dumbly-dorr," she said fondly, "I 'ope I find you well?"
Several more boys and girls were emerging from the carriage, all dressed alike in powder-blue robes that shimmered under the starlight. They huddled together behind Madame Maxime, barely moving when their headmistress waved a careless hand in their direction. None of them seemed especially impressed with the castle; in fact, some of them looked downright afraid of it.
The formidable headmistress ordered her students forward, and the lot of them passed through the Hogwarts crowd, up the steps, and into the Entrance Hall. Warrington craned his neck to see if she would get stuck on the way in the door, but she made it through without much more than a graceful ducking of the head.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" one of the Gryffindor fourth-years wondered aloud.
"They don't get any bigger than that," Mervin said, eyeing the massive beasts.
For long moments the Hogwarts students were once again alone in the quiet night, and again Beth's mind started to wander. She let her eyes roam over the Hogwarts grounds -- the vast majestic lawns, the shimmering lake, the Quidditch pitch off in the distance, the ring of ancient trees that made up the Forbidden Forest. Beth paused to gaze into its dark bowers. She had seen a centaur once in that forest, she remembered ... and been chased by a werewolf, too, and riddled by a Sphinx, and carried by a huge tawny griffin. There were secrets in there she'd never dreamed of. I wonder if I'll ever see any of it again?
A rumbling noise, low and looming, burst into her thoughts, and she snapped back to attention. Excitement once more rippled through the students, as many of them craned their necks in expectation.
"The lake!" cried Lee Jordon, standing as usual with the Weasleys. "Look at the lake!"
Beth and the rest of the students all obeyed. For a moment, all they saw was the clear surface of the lake, shining like obsidian in the dark. Then the noise grew louder ... water began to slosh the banks and burble up in the center, as if a pair of mighty krakens were warring to the death ... and a vast whirlpool appeared in the lake.
Melissa gripped Beth's arm. "Is it them?"
"No, maybe it's the Ballycastle Bats," said Bruce sarcastically.
"Shut up," said Melissa over her shoulder.
"Yeah, they always enter the pitch like that," Aaron elaborated, clearly delighted with the idea. "They'll all be swooping out of it on their broomsticks next, with Barney the Fruit Bat waving a lot of black and scarlet banners --"
"Shut up," said Melissa again. "You two think you're so clever --"
There was a gasp from the crowd and Melissa broke off. Something was coming out of the whirlpool ... it wasn't Ballycastle, or even any Quidditch team at all, but a long black pole, swathed with ropes and brass, eerie sheets of ghostly cloth streaming out for sails.
"A ship --" said Warrington, mouth open in wonder.
It was a ship, a weird and misty galleon silhouetted against the dark sky. It rose monstrously from the depths of the lake and sailed toward the bank. An anchor was dropped and a plank laid down to the bank, and the delegation from Durmstrang began to file onto the Hogwarts grounds.
The man in front, a slender fellow with shimmering gray robes, began speaking even before his students had reached the steps of the castle. "Dumbledore!" he called out, with a cheer that fell just short of sincerity. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore, reaching out to shake the headmaster's hands while his students collected uncertainly behind him.
"Ugh, I remember those fur cloaks," said Melissa under her breath. "Beastly."
"But warm," Beth replied in a whisper.
Professor Karkaroff was now looking up at the castle and rhapsodizing about how good it was to be back. One of his students was looking around expectantly at the Hogwarts students -- her face lit up as she saw the Slytherins, and Beth recognized Gypsy Arendt, a former S.S.A. member who had transferred to Durmstrang over three years ago. She waved, and Beth could hear the seventh-years behind her jostling to see her.
"My God -- is that Gypsy?"
"-- haven't seen her since, what, third year?"
"Ooh, I wonder if her teacher will let her stay in our dorms while she's here!"
Professor Karkaroff's voice grew a bit louder. "You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold ..." He gestured to one of the students, who ducked his head and came into the light beside Karkaroff. There was a moment of complete silence; then the entire Hogwarts delegation exploded in muffled whispers and hissing.
"Did you see --"
"Is that --"
Warrington grabbed hold of Bruce's arm and started to shake it urgently. "That's him!" he boomed, unable to keep his powerful voice in check. "That's Viktor Krum!"
Aaron Pucey seemed beyond words. He kept opening and closing his mouth, eyes bugging out as he watched Krum and the rest of the Durmstrang delegation enter the castle.
"Tell you what," said Melissa, giving them each a little shove in the back, "let's gape at him when we're inside, all right? The line is moving -- and it's freezing out here!"
Aaron nodded dumbly. They joined the rest of the Hogwarts students filing into the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall, where they broke into houses and took their usual places at the table. The Beauxbatons delegation had taken seats with the Ravenclaws, and one foreign girl was already chatting merrily with her Hogwarts counterpart; Beth assumed they had known each other from somewhere before. The Durmstrang lot hung about uncertainly in the doorway of the Great Hall. Professor Karkaroff, it seemed, had given them no indication on where they should sit.
As Beth watched, Richard approached and made a slight bow to the Durmstrang students, gesturing toward the Slytherin table. Gypsy threw her arms around him, beaming. She let go of him and grabbed Viktor Krum's arm and started to drag him toward the Slytherin table, chattering to both.
"Come on!" Bruce hissed, shoving Melissa so hard that she nearly fell off the bench. "Make a space for him!"
"Make your own space, Bletchley," Melissa snapped.
Neither of them ended up having to move; the dozen Durmstrang students filled in most of the spaces at their end of the table, where most of the older students sat. To everyone's disappointment, Viktor Krum sat in the midst of his classmates, at least three spaces away from the nearest Slytherin.
That didn't stop Draco Malfoy. He leaned over toward Krum, who was examining the golden goblets with the boy next to him. "Well done at the World Cup," Draco said winningly, once he had caught Viktor's attention. "I was watching from the top box. Too bad the rest of your team wasn't up to par."
"My team vos excellent," said Krum shortly, and turned back to the boy beside him.
Draco reddened and looked down at his plate, hastily covering up his anger at such a curt dismissal. He took a breath and tried again.
"I hope you don't mind my asking," he said, "but where will you fellows be sleeping? I'd like to offer you room in our dormitories ... I'm sure the house elves would be able to make up a dozen or so extra beds ..."
The other boy looked tempted, but Krum said, "Ve'll be staying on t'e ship, t'ank you," and fell silent again.
"Well, I had to extend the offer," Draco said, managing a gracious laugh, and then he fell silent too, with a dirty look at Crabbe and Goyle who were sniggering beside him. Luckily for Draco, Professor Dumbledore chose just then to rise from his seat to make an announcement.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and -- most particularly -- guests," Dumbledore beamed. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
One of the Beauxbatons girls let out a snort; by the way she was clutching her thin robes around her, it was clear that she couldn't imagine being comfortable in the castle.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
Cheers and excited babble rose up as scrumptious fare appeared along the lengths of each table. Most of the students started in with gusto, but a few -- the boys in general, and the Quidditch players in particular -- waited to see what Viktor Krum would take.
The hook-nosed boy scowled around at the feast and finally served himself some scalloped potatoes, which quickly became the most popular item on the table. (Beth noticed a couple of Hufflepuffs at the next table covertly copying as well.) He moved on to a foreign-looking sausage stew and began doling out into his bowl.
"Come on, Viktor, stop taking all t'e borscht," one of the Durmstrang boys said, poking Viktor Krum in the ribs playfully.
"Right, just because you caught t'e Snitch at t'e Vorld Cup ..." another one added.
Krum grinned bashfully. It totally transformed his sulky face; Beth could tell that he enjoyed the gentle ribbing. "You do not even like borscht," he told the boy who had poked him. "Und hiding from all t'ose interviewers made me hungry."
"Vot about me?" the first boy said indignantly. "Selflessly distracting t'em vhile you made a get-avay."
Gypsy leaned over. "Josef," she said, "it took about a minute before they realized you weren't Viktor Krum."
"I don't see vhy," Josef said, putting on the air of a pout. "I even slouched."
Even Krum joined in the laughter. In that moment, there was nothing remarkable about him -- the world-class Seeker was gone, leaving nothing but an eighteen-year-old boy sharing a joke with his friends.
While the Durmstrang students were making fun of each other, the Slytherin boys were deeply involved with making fun of the Beauxbatons delegation.
"Don't eat so much, Bruce, you'll end up looking like Madame Maximum," grinned Aaron.
Mervin snorted back laughter so hard that pumpkin juice came out his nose.
Bruce made a derisive noise that sounded exactly like the one the silver-haired Beauxbatons girl had made just a few minutes ago. "Zees Slytherins, zey are disgusting!" he warbled in a high-pitched voice, while Mervin tried vainly to mop off the front of his shirt and Warrington shook with laughter. "I 'ave nevair seen such 'orrible 'abits! Il dégoûte!" He flapped a napkin at Mervin and batted his eyes. Beth could tell that they were all going to require a lot of sharp whacks upside the head before the year was out.
"Could ve haff t'e cabbage?"
Beth picked up the dish and handed it down the table to the tousle-headed boy in Durmstrang robes who claimed to have impersonated Viktor Krum for the reporters. He took the bowl and studied her carefully for several moments; then he erupted into an effervescent smile. "I haff met you before!"
His messy blonde hair and cocky, endearing smile were suddenly familiar.
"Oh ... um," said Beth, with a glance at Richard. "I can't think of when."
The boy snapped his fingers. "Of course! You vere vone of t'e students to see Professor Viridian." Some of the other Durmstrang students nodded. "I am Josef Poliakoff. I asked you to dinner."
"I turned you down," Beth smiled.
"Yet here ve are!" Josef said, spreading his arms to indicate the meal before them. "You changed your mind, yes?"
"Er," said Beth, and flushed pink. The Durmstrangers laughed.
Richard was looking apprehensive. "They really shouldn't know that we visited last year," he murmured to Gypsy.
"Don't worry, the important thing is that none of the teachers found out," Gypsy murmured back. "Believe me, a Durmstranger knows how to be discreet."
"All right," said Richard warily, but didn't look convinced. Beth knew that he tended to be overprotective when it came to his secrets.
Trying to pretend that being laughed at by half a dozen foreigners didn't bother her, Beth turned from the table to get a better look at the Beauxbatons delegation. As usual, the sound of loud laughter from the Slytherin table aroused suspicion from the other houses, and they were getting the usual looks of annoyance, disgust, and fear. Even some of the Beauxbatons students were looking their way, although most of them seemed merely curious. One thin-faced boy stared more intently. Beth followed his gaze and found that it fell on the pretty face of Antigone von Dervish.
Beth nudged Antigone, who grudgingly broke off conversation with her seventh-year girlfriends. "Hmm?"
"I think that boy is staring at you."
Antigone cast a disinterested look at the Ravenclaw table, and the boy's Adam's apple leapt. "Can you blame him?" she said lazily.
Beth rolled her eyes and grinned. She and the rest of the school were very used to Antigone's vanity; it would only take a few weeks, and plenty of cold shoulders, before the Beauxbatons boy caught on as well. Indeed, the boy now looked heartbroken that the object of his attention had glanced his way and then gone back to conversation without so much as a raised eyebrow.
During the course of dinner, Beth had a chance to be introduced to most of the Durmstrang competitors. It turned out that several of the competitors had actually met the S.S.A. the previous year, during the trip to see Professor Viridian. A blonde girl of Amazonian proportions re-introduced herself to Mervin as Maria-Regina Dolohov. Melissa remembered Andrei Gregorovich, whose family rivaled the Ollivanders for control of the European wand market, and promptly got into a massive argument over whether and under what conditions a wand should be replaced. As it was extremely amusing, nobody tried to break them up -- and indeed, both of them seemed to be having a good time.
Viktor Krum didn't say much. He seemed to enjoy simply listening to his schoolmates converse gaily around him. Gypsy reminisced about her days at Hogwarts and told stories from Durmstrang which Josef was only too happy to spice up with his own interpretations. Halfway through dessert (and right after an alarming anecdote about Professor Viridian and the headmaster's favorite potted plant), Melissa looked up at the head table and squealed excitedly.
"Look, Beth! Visitors, at the head table!"
Beth swiveled in her chair. Besides Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, two grown wizards had joined the teachers at the front of the Hall. Both of them looked vaguely familiar.
"Bartemius Crouch!" Melissa said rapturously. "He's the head of the Department for International Cooperation -- Dad talked him into putting a tariff on imported wands just last summer," she added. "He's very powerful ... I should really try to say hello ..."
Bruce turned idly to take a look -- and almost choked a spoonful of blancmange. "Mel, do you know who that is?"
"I told you," said Melissa irritably, "that's Bartemius Crouch, from the Minis--"
Bruce looked scandalized. "Not him! The important one! That's Ludo Bagman!"
"Oh." Melissa rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Yes, of course ..."
"Mel, he was a Beater for England back in the day!"
"Quite a few days ago, I would say," Melissa said tartly. Mr. Bagman was obviously past his physical prime.
Before Bruce could properly display his outrage, the uneaten desserts faded and the plates were whisked away by magical hands. Dumbledore rose from his seat. The entire company suddenly fell into a buzzing, excited hush.
"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start."
"Write it down!" Richard hissed, beating at Beth's arm distractedly. "Get the pen! Record it all! We need this!"
"Good lord, settle down, Rich," Beth grumbled, but she took out her new Quick-Quotes Quill, licked the end, and set it on her napkin. It was just in time to catch the beginning of Dumbledore's next sentence.
"I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation --" Melissa applauded voraciously, though she was one of the only ones "-- and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Bruce joined the rest of the school in cheering enthusiastically for Mr. Bagman, who waved back at them cheerily.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
"I thought we wouldn't need a casket until after it started," muttered Evan darkly. It turned out that he had the wrong idea, for the wooden casket that Mr. Filch now carried to the front of the room was hardly large enough to hold the corpse of anything but a baby, and no one ever had a burial casket like this: smooth with vast age, slathered with gemstones and inlays of gold. Filch gently lay the casket onto the table in front of Dumbledore and slunk back into the shadows.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways ... their magical prowess -- their daring -- their powers of deduction -- and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
The silence was so overwhelming that Beth was almost afraid to breathe. Richard, intent on catching every word, was leaning so far over the table that he looked like he was going to topple over.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament."
"Not seven, as the name implies?" Evan murmured.
"-- one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore rapped on the lid of the casket three times with his wand; the lid creaked open of its own accord. A faint bluish light showed over the top. Reaching in, Dumbledore pulled out a wide wooden goblet that would not have been out of place at an ancient medieval feast, except for the electric blue flames shooting out of the top. He set the goblet on top of its casket and continued speaking.
"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."
Some of the students turned to the Entrance Hall, as if expecting the goblet to vanish and reappear there immediately. "That means no Filch," murmured Bruce gleefully. "Party in the Entrance Hall tonight!"
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line."
It could have been her imagination, but Beth thought she saw Dumbledore flick a knowing look at the Gryffindors. She glanced at Richard, and saw exactly what she expected to see: a "we'll-see-about-that" look on his face, and the glint of ambition in his eye.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obligated to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet."
Viktor snorted quietly and crossed his arms. Gypsy gave his shoulder an encouraging rub.
"Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
Richard looked like someone had kicked him off the train halfway to his destination. "That's it?" he said disbelievingly, over the clamor as students rose, yawning, to return to their common rooms. "There's nothing else?"
"That's it, Rich," Beth said firmly, putting away her Quick-Quotes Quill and handing him the parchment. "It's enough."
"It's going to have to be," he said sadly, looking down at the page.
The Durmstrang headmaster was hurrying over to the Slytherin table. His students reluctantly stood up as he approached.
"Back to the ship, then!" said Karkaroff loudly, clapping his hands together once. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchen?"
Viktor shook his head curtly, not looking up from the table, as he and his classmates began standing up and putting on their fur cloaks.
"Professor, I vood like some vine," Josef said hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows back at his classmates.
Karkaroff's tone changed instantly. "I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," he snapped, glaring at Josef in much the same way that Snape looked at the Weasleys. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy --"
They began to follow Karkaroff and Viktor back to the lake. As they went, Gypsy leaned into Beth's group. "Karkaroff wouldn't have brought Josef, except he scored the highest on the preliminaries," she whispered gleefully. "Burns him up. If Josef becomes the Champion he'll spit brimstone."
"Or vorse," Josef added cheerfully, speaking over his shoulder as they walked. "He vill cheat against me -- oof!"
Not looking where he was going, he ran into the back of Andrei Gregorovich, who grunted and swung around as if to deck him. One by one, the Slytherins and Durmstrangers ground to a halt. Karkaroff had stopped dead in the doorway and was staring into the crowd of Hogwarts students. Beth followed his gaze -- it was fixed on the forehead of Harry Potter, who just stared back at him. A murmur ran through the Durmstrang students.
"So that's him," Gypsy said softly. "Our textbooks don't even have baby pictures."
Josef nudged her excitedly and pointed at Potter. "Vhat did I tell you! He is here!"
"Oh yes," said Richard tiredly. "He's here."
"Stealing all of Richard's glory, no doubt," Gypsy whispered, and Beth giggled. Richard shot them a dirty look.
"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," someone growled from behind.
It was Mad-Eye Moody, clomp-clomping his way toward Karkaroff, who jerked as if he had been caught stealing and blanched pale. "You!"
"Me," said Moody, not taking his eyes from Karkaroff's face. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."
Josef let out an amused snort; Andrei quickly clapped a hand over Josef's mouth, unsure of whether this peg-legged gargoyle was intentionally being funny.
Karkaroff turned coldly and stalked out of the door, and his students followed quickly in his wake.
"See you tomorrow morning," Gypsy said swiftly, on the way out. "We're all getting up early to put our names in the Goblet."
"And we," said Richard, with a big grin, "are staying up late to do it."
The Vase Room was less energetic than usual. After an exhausting day and a huge feast, all anyone wanted to do was go to bed ... except for Richard, of course.
"Come on, liven up, you lot," he ordered from behind the Ledger's podium. "No napping, now. Bruce, you and I are the only members who can legally cross the Age Line, but I know any one of you would put up a good fight. We need to come up with a way to enter everybody else. We've only got twenty-four hours!"
"Wish we'd had more time to think it over," said Bruce, with a big yawn. He stretched out on the low divan. "If they'd told us at the beginning of the year ..."
"Then every Ravenclaw in the place would've had time to puzzle it out," said Richard grimly. "They're bookish but we're the cunning ones. Let's put it to good use. How d'you get past an Age Line?"
"Aging potion," said Blaise and Herne, at more or less the same time.
"That," said Melissa, "is an excruciatingly obvious trick, and I'm sure Dumbledore's thought of it."
"It's all right," said Blaise, hurt.
"But she's right, Dumbledore'll come up with that one himself," said Richard thoughtfully. "Be sneakier."
"We could always have you put in the lot of us at once," said Mervin.
"Again, obvious," said Richard. "It might just chuck them all back out again. It's not worth risking our only seventeen-year-old members. Try again."
"Could you write it down on a paper, then -- sort of float it in? You wouldn't cross the line, just the paper," Oren suggested.
Richard looked impressed. "Not bad! Now we're on the track."
"Or conjure up a paper from outside the line, but have it appear inside the line!" Melissa said.
"That's it!" said Richard enthusiastically. "Keep going!"
"We'll kidnap a seventh-year," said a dark voice from the corner, "and Imperius him into entering us."
It was Evan Wilkes, face almost entirely hidden by his black hair and the shadows. Richard frowned.
"I'd like to keep it down to just one illegal act at a time," he said lightly, "and let's stay away from the Unforgivable curses, shall we?"
Herne snorted back a laugh, and Evan glared at him before settling back into silence.
"There are potions that will negate enchantments," said Beth thoughtfully, "but those have to be done perfectly or it all gets tangled up. It'd take weeks to research."
"It takes weeks to make a Polyjuice Potion," Richard said, smiling, "and you can do it in two days."
"That was a special case," Beth grinned. "And the Gryffindors had already done the hard stuff for me."
Mervin rolled his eyes. The younger members, who hadn't been around to see Daedalus Dellinger petrified by a basilisk while illegally in the form of a snake, exchanged glances and decided not to ask. Audra merely sat still with her small, immobile smile.
A loud snore broke over the silence. Bruce had fallen asleep on the low divan.
Everyone laughed and Bruce awoke with a snort. "Come on, chaps," said Richard heartily. "Up and about. Let's go break some rules!"
Smothering their laughter, the Society set off for the Entrance Hall, where the Goblet of Fire stood.
Oren's method worked extremely well.
Richard and Bruce each stepped over the Age Line to put in their names; then one by one, the rest of the members wrote their names on torn-off bits of parchment and floated them into the Goblet. As it was Oren's idea, they made him go first. When close inspection proved that nothing had gone wrong, everyone else followed. In a matter of ten minutes they had all entered the Tournament and were on their way to bed.
"Bet you Knuts to Galleons we get attacked tomorrow night," said Mervin gloomily, as they reached the door of the common room.
"What makes you say that?" Melissa grinned. "Not the fact that the mountain troll incident happened on Halloween?"
"Or that the Chamber of Secrets was opened on Halloween?" said Bruce innocently.
"Or the time Sirius Black broke in -- on Halloween?" Beth added.
"Call it a hunch," said Mervin, as the common room door appeared in the wall before them. He turned to them as they split to go to their separate dormitories. "I don't know about you girls, but tomorrow -- I'm locking the bedroom door."
~~~~~~~~~
Antigone is conjugating the French verb "to kiss".
