Chapter 25: Can't Fool Father Time
Neville didn't feel safe again until they were back within the grounds of the school. He found it difficult to derive much comfort from the ride on the Hogwarts Express, conducted this year in the middle of a driving rain, despite the fact that his friends were by his side. Not only had the incident with the Dementors aboard the train last year disabused of him of the notion that everything connected to Hogwarts was automatically safe, but he also couldn't get the chaotic end of the Quidditch World Cup out of his mind. He could practically see the tension of thought in his countenance, staring at his reflection in the glass door to their compartment. Her hair bushy and pulled back from her face, Hermione appeared pretty due to how much she had clearly grown over the summer – pretty even when contemplative, but if she too was as disturbed by what they had seen following the Cup, she kept it to herself. Ron could clearly detect how quiet his two best mates were being and tried to do what he did best by lightening the mood. But when that quickly failed, he too fell into silence.
Across the train corridor, Neville could peer into the next compartment over and clearly see Ginny, despite undoubtedly feeling subdued too from their ordeal, making at least a token attempt to laugh and be with her friends. Luna and Harry were laughing at something the Weasley daughter had said and when Luna's silvery eyes happened to meet Neville's across the way, she smiled brightly and waved. Neville managed a half-hearted grin in reply: at least some of them were still managing to have fun.
Hogwarts Castle itself seemed to also carry an air of greater solemnity, as if it too had been forced to dispense with the trappings of innocence, of childhood. Though the Great Hall was bright – brighter than usual – there was a great pallor in the air, much as there had been at the start of last term, though now far worse. A darkness was gathering, Neville could feel it, and he just hoped he would be able to find solace in the corners of this place that had granted it to him before: the Herbology greenhouses. Hagrid. Ron. Luna. Shifting his head, he caught sight of his other best mate brushing the chestnut bangs out of her eyes, her face seeming to sparkle from where it caught the light. Hermione…. He couldn't help but notice how his bookish best girl had really grown into herself this summer, appearing more woman than girl in face and body. He internally bristled at himself a little. Was it wrong to think of a friend this way, even objectively? All he was merely observing was how Hermione had really blossomed this past year.
Dumbledore raised his hands and called for quiet. There was an unbothered smile to the old codger's face – that one thing remained per usual, and Neville wondered how much of it was a front put on. Last fall, the faculty had been eager to move forward with the notion that absolutely nothing was wrong until the leak of the Azkaban breakout to the media left them no choice but to face reality. At least with the Chamber of Secrets, they had been timely in recognizing the danger. From the way Dumbledore was smiling now, however, it was clear nothing like the Dark Mark's appearance at the Cup would be mentioned.
"Hogwarts!: I have the great privilege of announcing that, for the first time in 200 years, there will be an iteration of the Triwizard Tournament!" Heated whispering immediately reached a crescendo through the Hall. "What is more, our school has been chosen to act as host to the three academic institutions who will be competing for an ultimate prize, awarded after trials of danger and skill. Therefore, I have the distinct honor, of welcoming from our neighboring sister country of France, the girls of Beauxbatons Academy and their Headmistress, Madame Olympia!"
Girls dressed in light blue business suits and matching hats suddenly flitted into the Great Hall, each one of them prettier than the last and with legs for days. Ron and many of the other boys, including Neville, couldn't help but stare at the Beauxbatons girls' tight-fitting uniforms, which hugged impeccable figures in all the right places.
"Bloody hell!" someone wolf-whistled. Knowing his language habits as he did, Neville figured it was probably Ron. He was proven right when a smacking sound immediately followed, along with a yelp, and he smirked: no doubt Hermione had whacked him on the arm and was now diving into a lecture regarding the dangers of objectifying women.
"And finally, from the immaculate hills of Bulgaria, I welcome the strapping men of the Durmstrang Academy, along with their Headmaster Igor Karkaroff!"
The Durmstrang boys made an even grander entrance, performing a kind of war dance and chanting in rhythm; to Neville, the sound was more like a grunt.
One Durmstrang gentleman in particular stood out from among the rest, in that he stood nearly a head taller than most of his peers. Despite this, it wasn't until the imposing figure was nearly past them at their table did Neville recognize him, especially when behind him, Ron let out a gasp:
"Neville, it's him! ….. It's Viktor Krum!"
It was difficult to be star-struck by anybody when you yourself left others star-struck, so the most surprise Neville could muster about seeing an international Quidditch star in their midst was that Viktor Krum appeared far older than the mere teenager he apparently was.
"Students from each of these three schools will be invited to place their name into contention in one of the most solemn magical objects in all of wizarding history: the Goblet of Fire!" Dumbledore pulled back a drop cloth, which up till now had concealed a large goblet, now leaping with flames from its rim. Crossing to the opposite end of the staff table, he continued to announce: "After three contests of daring, the wizard chosen by their representative school, the one who has demonstrated the most magical skill will be bestowed with…. the Triwizard Chalice!" A second drop cloth fell away, revealing a slightly smaller cup than the Goblet of Fire, though one no less immaculate in shine. Students ooohed and ahhhed.
The feast was momentarily and abruptly interrupted by the great oak doors opening on the same instant as a pronounced clap of thunder. A dark figure now stood in the archway, a trench overcoat – brown in color – draped over him, with the collar pulled up so that some of his face was concealed. Using a walking stick, the mysterious new arrival clopped into the Great Hall.
Peering closer, Ron seemed to recognize him the way he had Viktor Krum. "Blimey…. It's Mad-Eye Moody!"
"Alastor Moody?" Hermione frowned prettily, turning her head towards her friends. "The Auror?"
"Auror?" Dean Thomas, seated near the Trio, wrinkled his nose.
"Dark Wizard catcher," Ron explained. "Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him!"
Moody made his way to a seat at the staff table, which only generated more buzz. Dumbledore raised a hand for silence.
"And now I will invite up the organizer of this most solemn and traditional event, Mr. Bartimaeus Crouch, to further explain the rules."
Neville started as he recognized the mustachioed gentleman from the World Cup now take the floor, quietly unfolding a piece of paper. In a high, at times lilting voice, Crouch spoke:
"To ensure the safety of all students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, no wizard or witch under the age of 17 shall be permitted to…."
The rest of his sentence was drowned out by an instant uproar, mostly from the Hogwarts delegation, but particularly from the Gryffindor table.
"That's rubbish!" the Weasley twins, only 16 themselves, bawled. "That's bloody rubbish!"
Many of their fellow sixth years were just as dismayed, as were a smattering of fifth and even some of Neville's fellow fourth years. As for Neville himself, he didn't mind so much that there was an age stipulation barring him from entering. Not that he would enter anyway. Danger and adventure of the kind this Tournament promised usually found him regardless.
"All eligible wizards and witches of at least 17 years of age will be invited to submit their name into the Goblet of Fire, which will choose a Champion from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang at our Feast on Halloween night!" Dumbledore restored order. "As of this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun!"
All throughout the next two months, the Goblet of Fire was placed in prominent display in the center of the Great Hall, allowing for any wizard or witch of age to write their name on a slip of parchment and place it into the flames for consideration. Except for at meal times, the tables of the Great Hall were pushed away to allow for space and for anyone who wished to enter the Tournament to gain maximum exposure from classmates as they did so.
Strolling along the edge of the Great Hall, their shirtsleeves rolled up, Neville and Ron watched as seventh-year friends of theirs stepped right up for a chance at glory.
Though he had no desire to enter such a Tournament himself, even if he had been age-eligible, Neville still had to admit: "It does sound awfully thrilling, this Tournament."
"Yeah," Ron sighed almost wistfully, as they watched a seventh-year Gryffindor they knew deposit his name into the Goblet. The youngest Weasley boy's blue eyes shone with envy, even as he smiled. "Three years from now, when we're old enough to be chosen…"
Neville clapped Ron on the shoulder. "I wouldn't count on it, mate. Dumbledore said the last Tournament was 200 years ago. By the time the next one comes about, I reckon we should all be dead!"
Ron nodded glumly, reluctantly conceding the point. The boys floated over to the far edge of the Hall, people-watching those students old enough to put their names forward. The volume of hubbub in the space briefly pitched when Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff placed his name in contention, to the great whooping and ribbing of a horde of friends. Across the way, Neville caught sight of Hermione, her bushy brown hair falling like a curtain into her face from where her nose was, predictably, stuck in a book. He would call out to her, were she looking up, and he was just tugging on Ron's sleeve to urge him in her direction when wild cheers suddenly arose.
Fred and George, their hair long and down to their shoulders came dashing in like a pair of conquering heroes, each clasping a glass vial.
"What are they doing?" Neville shook his head with bemusement, even as an intrigued grin was struggling to make its way onto his face. Ron showed no such compunction in at least trying to act leery towards what was in all likelihood a bit of rule-breaking in the offing. That was par for the course for Fred and George Weasley. Truth be told, it had gotten to be par for the course for Neville and his friends, in years past.
"They're bloody brilliant! They're going to enter the Tournament!"
"How? By tricking the Goblet?" Neville didn't know whether such a powerful and ancient magical object could be fooled. Knowing Hermione, though, as he observed her now dragged out of her book by the uproar, she probably did.
"Let no one say that age is just a number!" Fred called out loudly, showboating, ever the performer. "For my dear brother and I here are about to prove the folly of such limitations!"
"Too right! If we say we're 17, we can make it so!" George flourished.
Turning away to fix her stare on the Goblet, Hermione seemed to be fighting to hold in a laugh as she sing-songed, "It's not going to woooooork."
Fred and George's grins only broadened at the prospect of there being a doubter in their midst, and they flanked her.
"Oh, yeah?"
"And why is that, Granger?"
"You see this? This is an Age Line," Hermione traced her finger over where a blazing blue circle had been etched by wand work into the stone floor. "This is an Age Line. Dumbledore drew it himself!"
Neither of the twins' expressions changed, their cheeky grins remaining plastered to their faces, even as they dumbly blinked in unison at their classmate. "So?"
Hermione let out something between a scoff and a laugh, the dimpled corners of her mouth fighting to lift up into an amused smile. "So: Dumbledore won't be circumvented by something so patently dimwitted as an Aging Potion!"
"Hermione's right, of course," Luna Lovegood now drifted over to them. "The Headmaster would anticipate anyone trying to circumvent a magical object's own security measures." Hermione turned to take in Luna with some surprise, and a bit of mutual respect passed between the two girls, each equally brilliant in their own way, the regard coming as a shock to both.
"Ah, but that's why it's so brilliant…."
"…. because it is so pathetically dim-witted!" George finished his brother's sentence. Cheers and applause went up as the twins now approached their challenge. Still holding the matching glass vials, both brothers uncorked the Aging Potion and faced each other.
"Ready, Fred?"
"Ready, George!" They linked arms. "Bottoms up!" With that, they each downed the potion held by the other.
Nothing immediately happened, and a brief silence ensued. Taking that to mean good news, the twins pumped up the crowd, dashing up and down the Great Hall for high fives and encouragement. Returning to the edge of the blue Age Line, the brothers linked arms once again and literally leapt over the emblazoned barrier with both feet. Again, when no resistance was forthwith in coming, the twins and their supporters all erupted in cheers.
George was allowed to do the honors of submitting two slips of parchment into the Goblet. The flames WHOOSHed and the slips disappeared inside.
The cheers arose naturally this time, though barely before they turned into gasps and yelps of shock. For all at once, the Goblet spurted blue fire and the twins were roaring in surprise as these same flames now blasted them both backward, back over the Age Line where they landed in a heap on the floor.
All gathered in the Great Hall erupted in laughter as Fred and George dazedly sat up. Looking at each other, an identical twin proved just as useful as a mirror, enough for both of Ron's brothers to see that their red hair was now white and also now well past their shoulders. What's more (and worse), they now had impressively long white beards to match it.
"You said! ….."
"You said! …." Neither Fred nor George was able to articulate just whose fault it was for their failure before they were grappling for each other and tussling about on the floor. A crowd quickly formed a posse ring about the battling twins who now looked like a pair of curmudgeonly old men, Ron and Neville in the center of it, both of them roaring with laughter.
"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Only Hermione and Luna didn't join in; the former merely rolled her eyes and returned to her book, vindicated.
An all-encompassing hush fell over the crowd just then, enough that even the lame wrestling match between the twins came to a halt. Dark and mysterious, Viktor Krum strode confidently right up to the Goblet of Fire and placed his name inside. More than a few gasps went up.
As the handsome and chiseled Quidditch superstar turned away, his eyes lingered on the pair of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls seated on the nearby bench. Briefly lifting her bushy head of hair out of her book, Hermione momentarily met the Durmstrang man's eyes before letting out a huff and returning to her text.
Luna Lovegood, however, with her fierce and entrancing silver eyes, stared right back at Viktor Krum when his gaze came to land with fixation on her.