The Triwizard Tournament

"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head and sending water everywhere as they entered into Hogwarts' entrance, "if that keeps up, the lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked — ARGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Ron yelped, staggering into Ila, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Ila's feet, sending a wave of cold water over her sneakers into her socks.

"I can already feel my cold coming on," Ila tutted.

"I swear to Merlin if he wasn't already a ghost, I'd kill him!" Ron said, shaking his fist at the poltergeist.

People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Ila looked up and saw Peeves, floating twenty feet above them, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he aimed again.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall had come dashing out of the Great Hall.

"Not doing nothing!" Peeves cackled, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!"

And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" Professor McGonagall shouted. "I'm warning you, Peeves-" Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" Professor McGonagall sharply said to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Ila, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face. The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleaned by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles floating over the tables in mid-air. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here.

The three friends walked past the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables and sat beside their fellow Gryffindors. She heard laughs from the Slytherin table, where Pansy Parkinson and her friends pointed at the drenched Ila and her friends.

"I hope they hurry up with the Sorting," she said through chattering teeth. "I'm starving. And cold."

"Isn't this the first time you're going to see the Sorting?" Hermione asked, wringing out the sleeves of her robes. "Last year, you were stuck in the Hospital Wing, and the year before that, the two of you were in your father's car."

"Getting battered by the Whomping Willow," Ron muttered darkly before shivering. Ila didn't know whether he was cold or remembered his time with the spiders.

"You know you could have just waited until your parents came out of the station," Hermione said. "They could have taken you two to Hogsmeade station."

Ila and Ron looked at each other sheepishly.

"We were twelve and idiots, alright?" Ila said.

Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Ila! Oh, that rhymed…I guess you can say I'm a poet, and I don't even know it!"

Ron sniggered as Ila suppressed a groan before turning towards the end of the table.

"Hello, Colin," she said flatly.

Colin Creevey, a third-year, who seemed to have made Ila his hero, or crush as Ron thought, waved wildly at Ila.

"Ila, guess what? Guess what, Ila? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er — great."

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Ila?"

"Of course," said Ila before turning back to her friends. Ron looked like he was about to burst with laughter.

"Ron, you shouldn't be making fun of him," Hermione scolded.

"How am I making fun of him?" Ron said, slightly breathless. His colour returned to normal, but he still couldn't hide his smile. "It's just a great thing that guys actually like Ila – OW!"

Ila hit him.

"He's young," Hermione defended. "He probably respects Ila and thinks that she's a hero or something."

"Don't siblings usually get put into the same houses anyway?" Ila asked, trying to move on from the conversation. "I mean all of your family's in Gryffindor."

"Not necessarily. Prathik, Parvati's twin's in Ravenclaw, you'd think twins of all people would be in the same house?" Hermione said.

The headmaster stood up to the podium, Professor Dumbledore, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Ila, "I could eat a hippogriff."

"You could probably eat two," Ila muttered, making Hermione giggle.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened, and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall.

If Ila, Ron, and Hermione thought they were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked.

"Did Hogwarts not get enough money or something this year?" Ron whispered to Ila. "They all look like they swam the way instead of using the boats."

All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along with the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school — all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Ila recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, 'I fell in the lake!'

Ila could hear Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil squeal, muttering about how adorable he was.

Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an ancient, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then along tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song –

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Ila said, as she clapped along with everyone else once the Hat's song finished.

"Sings a different one every year," Ron suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. The rip at the brim opened wide — "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back into the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster. "Dennis! Dennis! See that girl down there? The Indian one with black hair and glasses? See her? Know who she is, Dennis?"

Ila looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs.

"About time," Ron said, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate. Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students; his arms opened wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in. "

"Hear, hear!" Ila and Ron said loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," Ron mumbled, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"Ron," Hermione moaned.

"Didn't mum tell you how to eat nicely?" Fred asked as they slid next to Ila. George did the same, sliding up to Hermione on the other side.

"'at's i' 'oo yo-" a piece of mashed potato landed on the table in front of them.

The twins shared a disgusted looked before eating again.

"Anyway, did you hear what happened?" George said, leaning in.

"What?"
The twins chuckled, looking at each other in glee. "Right, picture this, we're on the train, on our way to Hogwarts-"

"Oh, just skip the theatrics," Hermione moaned.

"Hush, hush Herman, patience is a virtue," Fred said calmly.

"I bet you can't even spell the word virtue."

"We're hungry, and so we decided to get some food from the trolley lady, alright, and this is the important bit, don't forget about it. The trolley is where all the Slytherins are. So, Fred, Lee and I go for a walk, when as we get closer, we hear loud noises coming from their compartments."

"This isn't very-"

"We're right next to the door, and at this point, people are screaming and shouting, and it sounds like chaos. So what do we do?"

A strange sense of déjà vu washed over Ila.
"Leave responsibly."
"Go in," Fred and Hermione say at the same time. "And guess what we see?" The three stared at the brothers. "Go on – guess!"

"Nothing because you guys are attention seekers?"
"Food fight?"

"Parkinson beating the shit out of Malfoy?"
"No, no, and you're on the right track," George said before explaining what had actually happened. "We open the door to see Malfoy shouting at Parkinson."

Clearly, the reaction they had gotten from the trio wasn't the one they wished. Ron was too busy eating, Hermione was busy finding inconsistencies in their story while Ila…

This must have been the conversation that she overheard but couldn't hear.

"For what?" Ila asked finally.

"It was actually to do with you guys…something about a dress?"

"Parkinson made fun of Ron's dress. What about it?" Hermione said, unfazed by Ron's red face.

"Malfoy was shouting at her, saying that what she did was unnecessary, that she was being stupid and not thinking, which was typical of her. Parkinson, confused, then asks why he's angry, and he replies, telling her that what she did wasn't even funny and that she needs to leave, and I quote 'Potter alone.'"

Ron and Hermione's heads slowly turned to face Ila, who was busy staring at the twins.

"He said that?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy did get annoyed at Parkinson when they were at our compartment," Hermione remembered.

Ila's eyes flickered to where the Slytherin table was.

Sitting there was Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle beside them, Blaise and Nott sitting opposite. They were all talking and laughing. Draco went to reach for his goblet when he noticed a pair of eyes on him. He looked up to see Ila staring over Weasley's shoulders. She looked…confused. He didn't know why she, of all people, was staring at him. There was no way she would have known about his conversation with Parkinson. He promised her to not say a word, not even to her friends. Malfoy drunk out of his goblet, his eyes never leaving Ila's.

This was the third time he was acting weird. First the stadium, then the Forest and now this? He had to be doing this on purpose.

"Maybe he does have a crush on you then," Ron muttered under his breath, which was met with a punch to the arm just as Professor Dumbledore had stood up. He didn't need to speak a word for everyone to listen to him. The light chatter quickly faded as he lit a candle beside his podium.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office if anybody would like to check it."

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below the third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"WHAT?" Ila gasped. She looked around at Fred and George, her fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"

But there was a deafening rumble of thunder at that moment, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man stood, wearing a long black raincoat, leaning on a goat-headed staff, stood at the doorway. A flash of lightning lit up the man's face as he lowered his hood, causing everyone to gasp. Deep scars carved his skin, taking out whole chunks of his lips and nose. The biggest was on his forehead travelling all the way down to his chin. Part of his brow was completely removed.

Along with his left eye.

Replacing it was a piercing blue glass eye. It moved independent to his right, glazing over the entire crowd, while his other eye looked ahead to Dumbledore. The man's glass eye landed on Lavender, who nearly fainted at the sight before it roved to Ila. The man began to walk, the sound of a clunk following his footsteps. Students sat up straighter, including Ila, to see a carved wooden leg with a claw foot at the end of it, where his right leg was supposed to be. As he got closer, his eye seemed to roll to the back of his head. A hip flask was attached to his belt, clinging with the metal, along with his wand sticking out. He stared at Ila as he walked past Ila until his head can no longer turn. However, that didn't stop Ila from feeling that she was still being watched.

When the man reached Dumbledore, he took his hand and bent down, planting a kiss. They two then fell into a soundless conversation that lasted minutes.

"Who the hell is that?" Ron whispered.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," Fred replied quietly. "That's the guy who Dad had to help. Y'know, the one who freaked out cos he thought he got attacked."

Ila vaguely remembered the beginning of the day. As they were having breakfast, Mr Weasley was rushing to leave the house. He told them he had to help an ex Auror who thought someone was in his bins, ready to attack him.

"Why's he here then?" Ila asked. Fred and George shrugged their eyes stuck on Moody, who had just finished his conversation with Dumbledore and took his seat beside Professor Snape and McGonagall. He took out a small knife before stabbing a sausage, the sound of the knife hitting the plate startling McGonagall and the students. He observed the sausage before taking a bite of it. He grimaced, although Ila couldn't quite tell if he was or that was his resting face.

Dumbledore smiled as if there wasn't a man nicknamed 'Mad-Eye Moody' who hadn't just interrupted the First Feast.

"May introduce your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody?"

The room remained silent, apart from the dismal echoes of Dumbledore clapping loudly. At the same time, the rest of the students watched their new professor in fascination as he took out his gold hipflask and took a long swig out of it before wiping the remnants with his sleeve.

"Anyway, as I was saying before," Dumbledore said, trying to get the students back on track, "we have had the exciting opportunity of hosting an event that has taken months for the Ministry to prepare for. It will be the first time this century that this event has taken place, so I am pleased to inform you that Hogwarts will be hosting this century's Triwizard Tournament."

Most of the students remained quiet, barring a few of the seventy years, who cheered loudly.

It was only for their excitement to die down as quickly as it started once they realised that the rest of the school had no idea what the Tournament was.

"I assumed this wasn't going to be quite the reaction I thought everyone would have," Dumbledore muttered, looking back at his fellow peers. Ila looked at her friends, who both shrugged in confusion. "Allow me to explain then. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years. It was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered feverishly. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by most students in the Hall; many of the students finally understood what the implications meant for Hogwarts to be hosting the Triwizard Tournament as whispers began to float around. While Ila had bigger things to be worried about, i.e. a certain Dark Lord potentially having a comeback, she wanted to hear more about what the Tournament would entail.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports departments have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that no champion will find themself in mortal danger this time. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place the day after Halloween."

"At least he won't take our party away," Fred whispered to George.

"An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy of competing for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"A thousand Galleons?" Ron asked. "I don't think I've ever seen that much money at once!"

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take. It is doubtful that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces.

"I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when they are selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" George yelled, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door but stood up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April. Why can't we have a shot?"

"Do you always have to shout?" Hermoine asked, covering her ears.

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred said stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Ila, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George, debating how Dumbledore might stop those under seventeen from entering the tournament.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Balderdash," George said. The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione bid Ron a good night before going up to the girls' dorms.

"I s'pose I'll head off," Ila said. "G'night, Ron."

"Night, Ila."

By the time she reached the girls' dormitories, Hermione had already gotten changed. The curtains around her bed closed. The other girls were also there; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were busy talking on Parvati's bed while Eloise Midgen was already asleep.

"Can you believe it?" Hermione said as they sat down on Ila's bed. "Why on Earth would Dumbledore decide to have such a dangerous competition be held here?"

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Ila said reassuringly as she searched in her trunk for a pair of pyjamas.

"Why do you think the minimum age to participate is seventeen, Ila?" Hermione said, lying down on her bed.

Ila pushed the lid of the trunk down so that she could see Hermione. "First years get scared of practically anything and everything in between. I doubt Dumbledore wanted any of them to represent the school against the other two."

"That still doesn't explain the other years," Hermione said.

"But it's not like there's anyone that you care about in sixth and seventh years that'll be eligible," Ila said.

"Just because I don't know anyone doesn't mean I can't feel scared for them," Hermione sighed, rolling over onto her back to watch the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, Hermione then asked, "Would you have joined? Only if you were of age, that is. I'd bet all my money that if we were of age, Ron would do it."

"Maybe, if it weren't-"

Voldemort barging in, Ila thought. If the tournament was as dangerous as it was, there was a possibility of her dying - though anything Ila does cause a possibility of her dying. But, entering the Tournament would mean the likelihood increased. If she died or at least got seriously injured, how would she be able to defeat Vol–

She wouldn't.

And then what would that mean?

"No."

"Seriously?" Hermione exclaimed. "I thought you and Ron would have been the first to protest about lowering the age."

"I just…I'd be busy," she said, quickly opening the trunk once more and pretended to look for her pyjamas. Hermione propped her face on the edge of the lid, looking down on Ila.

"With what?" she said, a hint of suspicion edged her voice.

"Exams," she said. "Wouldn't we have taken N.E.W.T.S the year after? Think about all that revision time we would miss out on….Then I won't be able to get into university."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing…I just didn't realise you were so serious about going to university," Hermione said.

"Well-"

"Hi, Ila!"

The trunk's lid slammed shut, followed by a yelp from Hermione, just as Ila managed to pull her fingers away before they got crushed.

"What the fuck, Parvati? You could've smashed my fingers," Ila said feverishly, moving away when Parvati and Lavender took a seat on her trunk.

"But I didn't," she said.

Ila sighed, knowing that arguing with Parvati would lead nowhere and instead took a seat on her bed beside Hermione.

"What do you want?" Hermoine asked, causing the two girls to look at each other, offended.

"Why are you saying it like that? We just wanted to be nice and ask you two about your summer," Lavender whined. "But since we're not wanted here, I guess we'll leave." They didn't. Instead, they sat there, waiting for Hermione or Ila to break.

"Fine," Ila said through gritted teeth. "I guess our summer was alright…how was yours?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Lavender said excitedly before going into an in-depth explanation about what felt like every individual day of her and Parvati's summer because they spent it together. By July, Ila was struggling to stay awake as she tried to blink her heavy lids. Halfway through August, all the words coming out of the girls' mouths were out of sync with what she was hearing. Her head started to feel like a bowling ball every time she jolted herself awake. She prayed that at one point, her neck would stop hurting. She was so close. She could feel her body relax, leaning back into the bed frame. Hermione felt the same, as Ila felt her braids tickle against her neck. She was so close –

"Y'know Cedric Diggory's going to-"

"What!" Ila said, sitting upright at the sound of his name. Hermione was too far gone even to realise what was going on, leaning down to sleep on Ila's pillow. "What – what did you say about him?"

"That's he going put his name in the Goblet," Parvati said, unsure of Ila's sudden enthusiasm. "Why?"

"No – no, no reason, I er – I just didn't think anyone would have decided too soon."

"But he didn't, he already knew…His father does work in the Ministry."

"Oh…yeah, right."

"I heard that Draco wanted to do it too," Lavender told them. "His father really wanted him to do; he even told the Minister that they should lower the age so that he can Draco in."

Ila couldn't help but let out a snort. "Of course his father would."

"I kinda feel sorry for him," Parvati said quietly before realising the two baffled faces blink at her. "Well, I mean – I mean obviously, Draco's a bit of dick-"

"A bit?"

"But, he can't help it can he? Take one look at his dad, and you realise why he's like that."

"Ok, but just because his father's a prick doesn't mean Malfoy deserves any sympathy," Ila said harshly. "That doesn't matter because he acts like that. It's not like Malfoy is doing anything to…redeems himself" – Ila tried her best not to remember what happened on the train. And the night of the Cup Final - "I don't see him being nice to anyone that isn't a Slytherin. I don't see him not being a brat."

"He did argue with Pansy today," Parvati said. "That has to be something."

"Depends on why he was shouting at her," Ila said, pushing down the memory of the conversation between her and the twins. "And besides, I couldn't care less if he wanted to join the tournament. In fact, he'd be doing everyone a favour."

"You can't say that, Ila," Lavender scolded.

"I already did," she said, grabbing her pyjamas and headed into the bathroom. Just when she thought she was safe from the two girls, she could hear their voices drift into the bathroom.

"Ila, if you give him a chance, he's not actually that bad." As soon as those words came out of Lavender's mouth, Ila swung the door open to find the two girls sitting by the door.

"Have you two talked to him?" Ila asked in a low tone.

"It was an accident," Parvati said, pulling Lavender up.

"How do you accidentally talk to someone?" Ila asked, slowly stepping out of the bathroom. "You don't accidentally talk to people; you do know that?"

"It was during the Cup Final," Lavender said. "You know, with all the attacks and stuff. Parvati and I took her little sister with us when we were running away, and then we lost her."

"Oh, did you accidentally lose her too?"

"Anway," Parvati said, "after a few minutes, we found her with Malfoy. She looked like she was crying and ran to us. Obviously, we thought he did something, but Priti told us that he actually helped her. She had a cut on her knee, and he fixed that. Doesn't that sound like he's redeemed himself?"
No, Ila wanted to say. But instead, she pushed past the two girls and went into Hermione's bed, drawing the curtains around her and flopped into her pillow.

She never wanted to think about Malfoy ever again.