Diary of an Orphan (re-written)

by StrangeLittleWeirdo

Jenna grew up alone in an orphanage with no knowledge of who she was or where she came from. It wasn't until an owl arrived with a letter for her, and a man named Remus Lupin walked into her life, that she learnt she was so much more than she originally thought and her life would never be the same again.

23. Madness of the Ministry Malcontent

Chapter 22

Madness of the Ministry Malcontent

It felt like only a few minutes had passed before Mr Weasley was waking Hermione, Ginny and me once more for us to get the Portkey home. We cleared out the tents and Mr Weasley packed them up with a flick of his wand so we could leave as quickly as possible. When we passed Mr Roberts at his cottage he waved us off with a dazed look on his face and wished us a "Merry Christmas". I hoped the number of Memory Charms he must have had placed on his in the last few weeks didn't do any permanent damage. At least he and his family wouldn't remember what had happened to them last night.

'He'll be all right,' said Mr Weasley as if he knew what I was thinking. He took the lead and we started off back to the moor where we'd arrived the previous day. 'Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes them a bit disorientated for a while … and that was a big thing they had to make him forget.'

We weren't the only wizards in a rush to get home after the events of last night. When we reached the area where the Portkeys were being kept it was full of families all desperately trying to get a Portkey back home. Basil, the wizard who had greeted us yesterday when we'd arrived, looked flustered as he dealt with the crowds. Mr Weasley made his way through to Basil and had a hurried conversation with him before directing us to a queue over by a sign in the ground reading "South West". We joined the group of families all waiting for Portkeys back to that area of England and waited for our Portkey to be assigned. Mr Weasley waved at a couple of wizards he recognised. Looking around I saw a girl from the year below me at Hogwarts I'd met in my second year standing with someone I assumed was her father (they both had the same long silvery-blonde straggly hair) and – to my dismay – Cedric and his father. I subtly tried to move behind Hermione so I wouldn't be seen but Mr Diggory had spotted Mr Weasley and had come over.

'Jenna.' I cringed when I heard Cedric say my name. Reluctantly I came out from behind Hermione to talk to him. Both she and Ginny had noticed Cedric's arrival. 'I just want to see if you were OK after last night?'

'I'm fine, thanks,' I said, smiling awkwardly, aware of Hermione and Ginny were watching, 'and thanks for all your help last night.'

'Don't worry about it,' said Cedric. He gave me his now customary smile. I felt Ginny nudge my ribs. 'So, I guess I'll see you back at school?'

'Yeah, probably,' I replied.

'Cool, well my birthday's the week after we go back,' said Cedric. 'My friends usually insist we have a party for it. Maybe we can meet up?'

Ginny squealed beside me, not loud enough for Cedric to hear but I certainly did. I frowned, annoyed by her actions and by Cedric's offer.

'Maybe,' I said, trying not to sound dismissive about the invitation. 'Depends on how much work I get, now I'm starting O.W.L. level work and all.'

'Sure,' Cedric nodded. Thankfully, his dad called him over putting an end to the already awkward conversation. 'Well, I'll see you around.'

Cedric walked off to join his dad and the silver-blonde family at a Portkey. Once he was gone, Ginny could no longer contain her excitement and burst into quiet squeals. Hermione, not being as girly as Ginny, merely smiled at me.

'Jenna, do you realise what just happened?' said Ginny, jumping up and down. 'Cedric Diggory just asked you out!'

'No, he didn't,' I said, turning my back to him. I did not want to talk about this. 'He just asked if I wanted to go to some party. Which I'm not going to.'

'Why not?' said Hermione. 'Jenna, he's invited you personally.'

'Most girls would hex to –' began Ginny but I cut her off.

'Well I'm not "most girls",' I snapped, vexed.

I was beginning to get very irritated by Cedric's attention; yes, he was a nice guy, but I knew nothing about him and he knew very little about me, apart from what the rest of the school knew. It made my stomach churn as I thought about the reason he could be interested in me and it wasn't a good one. I thought back to Dad's words and Mrs Malfoy; if I was destined to follow the Black family and be "good-looking" when I was older then I didn't want anything to do with boys who liked me just for my looks. It was just so shallow. Hermione and Ginny seemed taken aback by my attitude towards Cedric. They shared a look as if to say what was wrong with me to each other, but they heeded my words and dropped the subject. I didn't like snapping at them but this had really touched a nerve to my surprise. Of all the aspect of growing up I knew I would face, unwanted attention from boys because of how I looked was not one I had counted on.

'Come on, everyone!' shouted Mr Weasley's voice. 'Let's go.'

As we were a group of eleven, we had a Portkey to ourselves this time round. Gathering round an old rubber tyre, we touched the Portkey and were transported back to Stoathead Hill before the sun had even risen. Thoughts of reaching The Burrow and having a Weasley breakfast got me through the walk back through the village, that and getting a few hours more sleep in a proper bed. It was a sight for sore eyes when we rounded the lane and I saw The Burrow come into view.

'Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness! Arthur – I've been so worried – so worried –'

Mrs Weasley, still in her nightdress with a cardigan over the top and a pair of slippers on her feet, came running over to us. She looked like she'd been up all night waiting for us. In her hand I saw she was carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet. She dropped it when she flung her arms around her husband's neck and I saw the front page. A large black and white photograph of the Dark Mark was printed beneath the words: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP. It looked like the Prophet had gotten wind of what happened mere hours after it had occurred. I guess some of its reporters had been at the match.

'You're all right,' breathed Mrs Weasley again as she pulled back and looked at us all, dishevelled and tired. Her eyes were red. It looked like she'd been crying. 'You're alive … oh, boys …'

Suddenly she seized Fred and George with such force that their heads banged together as she hugged them.

'Ouch! Mum – you're strangling us –'

'I shouted at you before you left!' Mrs Weasley said, starting to sob once more. 'It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O. ? Oh, Fred … George …'

'Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly OK,' Mr Weasley reassured her. He prized her off the twins and led her back inside the house. 'Bill,' he added in an undertone, 'pick up that paper, I want to see what it says …'

We dumped our things in the living room and made our way into the kitchen where we crowded around the small table. Hermione set the kettle going to make Mrs Weasley a cup of tea which she handed to her when it was ready but not before Mr Weasley put a shot of something called Ogdens Old Firewhisky in it "for her nerves". We gathered round and Mr Weasley laid out the Daily Prophet Bill had handed him to read the article on the front page.

'I knew it,' muttered Mr Weasley. He sounded unimpressed by the article's contents. 'Ministry blunders … culprits not apprehended … lax security … Dark wizards running unchecked … national disgrace … Who wrote this? Ah … of course … Rita Skeeter.'

Having scanned Lupin's copies of the Daily Prophet before I was vaguely aware of that name. Her articles were never that favourable from what I could remember of them so I tended to skip them in the past. I could see why just from the short exerts Mr Weasley had read out.

'That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!' said Percy indignantly. 'Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans –'

'Do us a favour, Perce,' yawned Bill, 'and shut up.'

I silently agreed.

'I'm mentioned,' continued Mr Weasley.

'Where?' spluttered Mrs Weasley. 'If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!'

'Not by name,' said Mr Weasley. 'Listen to this: "If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark, alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen." Oh, really,' sighed Mr Weasley. 'Nobody was hurt, what was I supposed to say? Rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods … well, there certainly will be rumours now she's printed that.'

Mr Weasley sighed again then stood up.

'Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office, this is going to take some smoothing over.'

'I'll come with you, Father,' said Percy. 'Mr Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person.'

Yes, I thought tiredly, because that's going to be on the top of Crouch's priority list.

Mrs Weasley wasn't happy about Mr Weasley's need to go into work when he was on holiday but he insisted because of Skeeter's article and what he had said when we'd left the wood had made the situation worse. He left the kitchen and went upstairs to change into his robes. Muttering under her breath to herself about the article, Mrs Weasley started to bustle about making breakfast for us all. The smells of toast and bacon frying soon filled the kitchen to everyone's joy.

'Mrs Weasley,' said Harry suddenly. 'Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?'

'Hedwig, dear?' said Mrs Weasley, distractedly. 'No … no there hasn't been any post at all.'

Ron, Hermione and I all looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at us, Harry nodded his head upstairs then said, 'All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?'

'Yeah, I think I will, too,' said Ron. 'Guys?'

'Yes,' said Hermione quickly, glancing at me as well.

We collected our various bags from the back door and headed upstairs to Ron's room. We went inside, Ron shutting the door firmly behind us.

'What's up, Harry?' he asked once the door was closed. He took a seat beside Harry on his bed.

'There's something I haven't told you,' said Harry. 'On Sunday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again.'

Hermione gasped then started rattling off a list of books to look at or people to ask from Madam Pomfrey, the school Matron, to Dumbledore. Ron stared at him. I frowned. Our reactions didn't seem to surprise Harry.

'But – he wasn't there, was he?' said Ron. 'You-Know-Who? I mean – last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?'

'I'm sure he wasn't in Privet Drive,' said Harry. 'But I was dreaming about him … him and Peter – you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill … someone.'

My frown twitched then relaxed as I realised something.

'So that's why you wrote to Dad?' I asked. I suddenly felt very bad for how I reacted when he'd first hinted he'd been in contact with Dad. 'About your scar.'

'Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you, Jen,' said Harry.

'It's fine,' I replied. 'He's your godfather, you were worried. I understand that.' and felt jealous for no reason. I'm such an idiot.

'It was only a dream,' said Ron next. 'Just a nightmare.'

'Yeah, but was it, though?' asked Harry. He glanced out the window. The sky was now bright and clear. 'It's weird, isn't it … my scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again.'

'Don't – say – his – name!' hissed Ron.

'And remember what Professor Trelawney said?' Harry continued, ignoring him. 'At the end of last year?'

Hermione snorted at the mention of Trelawney. Her distain for her and her Divination classes was still there then.

'Oh, Harry, you aren't going to pay any attention to anything that old fraud says?'

'You weren't there,' said Harry firmly. 'You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance – a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again … greater and more terrible than ever before … and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him … and that night Wormtail escaped.'

No one said anything. Ron fidgeted, pulling at a thread in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

'So that's why you were asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?' asked Hermione. 'You're waiting for a letter from Sirius?'

'I told Sirius about my scar,' shrugged Harry. 'I'm waiting for his answer.'

'Good thinking!' said Ron. 'I bet Sirius'll know what to do!'

'I hoped he'd get back to me quickly,' said Harry.

'Dad could be anywhere,' I told Harry. 'I wrote to him just before I came here and I still haven't heard back.'

'We don't know where Sirius is …' agreed Hermione, 'he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he? Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry.

'Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry,' said Ron. 'Come on – three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play … you can try out the Wronski Feint ….'

'Ron,' said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, 'Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now … he's worried, and he's tired … and we all need to go to bed …'

'Yeah, I want to play Quidditch,' said Harry. 'Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and got up.

'Come on, Jenna,' she said. I looked at her. I actually kind of wanted to join the boys and play some Quidditch. When I saw she was waiting for me, I followed. We left the room and she immediately sighed, 'Boys!'

'Hermione,' I started, thinking carefully how to word things so as not to irritate her more, 'maybe Ron's right. You know what they say: a watched cauldron never boils. If Harry keeps thinking about that letter, he'll obsess about it, you know he will. Doing something to take his mind off it will probably do him good.'

Hermione frowned.

'Still,' she huffed, 'he shouldn't ignore the fact that his scar hurt.' She pushed open the door to Ginny's door and we went inside. I placed my bag down on my bed. 'It was a warning last time. It could be a warning this time too. He needs to go to someone with more knowledge about this than Sirius.'

OK, time for some tough love. Once in a while, Hermione really did need someone to take her down a peg or two about always looking things up and relying on books.

'Hermione, I get it,' I said, 'but this is Harry, not you, and the person he wanted to talk to about it was Dad. Now you are welcome to peruse your books for an answer, but I'm going outside to join the boys in a game of Quidditch, and I think you should too.'

I opened my trunk and pulled out my Thunderbolt III. Without giving Hermione a chance to object I left the room and went back downstairs. I swung by the kitchen on my way out and grabbed a bacon sandwich from the pile now sat on the table. It was just what I needed. The boys were already out in the orchard by the time I'd got there and had started a game. Ginny was sat on the side-lines watching. When she saw me carrying my broom her eyes lit up knowing that if I wanted to play the others (mainly Fred and George) would have to let her as well so that the teams were kept even. She'd told me earlier in the holiday she never got to otherwise and had taken to using her brothers' brooms in secret and flew badly in front of them the few times she'd played with me over the summer so they wouldn't get suspicious. Sure enough, Hermione joined a few minutes later to watch, not before sending me a disgruntled look that I'd been right.

With two Seekers and two Beaters, Harry and Fred formed one team and George and Charlie the other. That left Ron, Bill, myself and Ginny. Knowing I preferred to be a Chaser, I offered myself up as one when I was picked by Charlie to go on his team. Fred then automatically picked Bill (I guess he didn't want Ron on his team out of the two of them). As there were two girls, Charlie asked Harry if he was all right taking Ginny so it was fair and we got Ron as our Keeper. Teams sorted, Charlie levitated some wicker baskets to use as goals at either end and Bill bewitched the balls they'd been using and sent them off into the air.

'On three, everyone!' he called. I mounted my broom and got ready to take off. 'Three – two – one – Go!'

I shot straight into the air for the Quaffle. With Bill as my counterpart I had to be quick. The Quaffle reached the peak of its bounce and began to fall. Knowing Bill had the height advantage on me I took the risk and swerved beneath him. I put on a burst of speed and flew upwards, snatching the Quaffle before he could catch it. I did a quick turn and shot off towards where Ginny was guarding the goal marker. I dodged a Bludger that Fred had sent in my direction and made a play for a goal. I'd raised the Quaffle to shoot but from nowhere I felt arm get knocked and I lost my grip. I rolled on my broom. Once right way up I turned to see Bill taking off up the orchard towards Ron. I put on a burst of speed and attempted to catch up. My Thunderbolt was only marginally faster than the Weasley Cleansweep brooms but Bill had a lot more experience on me. I fought to catch up but in no time he was at the other end of the orchard and had thrown the Quaffle straight past Ron into the central basket behind him.

The game continued like this for most of the time we spent playing. While I was good at tackles due to my smaller size and speed, I just couldn't match Bill's experience from playing against his brothers most of his life. Their team steadily pulled ahead with me only scoring a handful of goals because of Ginny's continual faking of her true broom skills from her brothers. In the end though Charlie's Seeker experience proved too much for Harry like Bill's experience for me. Charlie caught the ball we were using as the Snitch despite Harry's attempts at the Wronski Feint a couple of times to distract him.

Neither Mr Weasley nor Percy were home much according to their portraits on Mrs Weasley's clock over the following week as they attempted to deal with the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup and the chaos that Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet had caused. But we had other things to think about as we were soon to return to Hogwarts for our fourth year which was also the start of our studying towards our O. . Mrs Weasley was laden with four sets of robes to wash and even insisted on washing mine, Hermione's and Harry's as she was doing everyone else's. Only Hermione (unsurprisingly) took our imminent return to Hogwarts to heart and would spend a couple of hours each day packing and repacking her trunk to make sure she had everything with her. I didn't worry about mine so much only because I hadn't taken anything but mainly clothes out of it since I'd got to The Burrow in the first place. All my books and equipment were still firmly inside.

On Sunday evening as we sat down for dinner Percy had returned from the Ministry but Mr Weasley was still at work according to his hand on Mrs Weasley's clock. She had not been happy with how much time he'd had to spend there because of the amount of work the World Cup riots had resulted in.

'Your father hasn't had to go into the office at weekends since the days of You-Know-Who,' she sighed. 'They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon.'

'Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?' said Percy pompously. I glanced at Percy from below my fringe. He really did get on my nerves sometimes with how arrogant he could be. 'If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first –'

Mrs Weasley's infamous temper flared at once.

'Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!' she snapped, brandishing her wand at Percy.

'If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would have just said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented,' said Bill. 'Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' curse breakers once, and called me "a long-haired pillock"?'

'Well, it is a bit long dear,' said Mrs Weasley her tone suddenly much gentler. Geeze, I'd have whiplash from her mood swings if I was one of her kids. 'If you'd just let me –'

'No, Mum.'

I returned to idly throwing and catching a small hand-knitted ball Mrs Weasley had made for Crookshanks whom was currently outside chasing mice. Beside me Hermione was looking through her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, to see what sort of things we'd be learning next year. Ron was fully engaged in a game of chess with Bill. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava for his return to Romania. Harry was elbow deep in broomstick polish. And Ginny was fixing her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape. The only activity that seemed rather odd for a Sunday evening was the homework Fred and George were apparently still doing.

'We've left it a bit late,' said George when his mother questioned them.

'You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?' said Mrs Weasley. 'You wouldn't be thinking of re-starting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?'

'Now, Mum,' said Fred. He put a pained expression on his face as he spoke. 'If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel knowing that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation.'

Everyone laughed at Fred's little reminder of Mrs Weasley's words when we'd got back from the match. Even Mrs Weasley did.

'Oh, your father's coming!' said Mrs Weasley suddenly, noticing his hand on her clock had started to move.

'Molly?' called out his voice.

'Coming Arthur!'

Mrs Weasley vanished into the kitchen. Seconds later she and Mr Weasley joined us in the living room. She took Mr Weasley's travelling cloak from him as he sat down in an armchair then handed him a tray of shepherd's pie she'd kept warm for him. He sat down with a heavy sigh clearly exhausted.

'Well, the fat's really in the fire now,' he told her. 'Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago.'

'Mr Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks,' said Percy without missing a beat.

'Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky,' said Mr Weasley stiffly. 'There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark.'

I caught the woollen ball and tensed. I sat up having been lying on my back. I sensed another argument about house-elves was going to start.

'I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?' said Percy, the Weasley temper now flaring in him as well.

'If you ask me, Mr Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!' said Hermione angrily.

Called it.

'Now, look here, Hermione!' said Percy. 'A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants –'

'His slave, you mean!' Hermione's voice had gone shrill like it always did when she got angry. I fought back the groan I had. 'Because he didn't pay Winky, did he?'

'I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!' said Mrs Weasley, thankfully cutting off the impending argument. 'Come on, now, all of you …'

I stretched and got up, glad to have a reason for Hermione to be silent even if she was still fuming like I knew she would be. I dropped Crookshanks' ball on the floor and headed upstairs. Mrs Weasley called that she'd be up with our clean robes in a minute for us to pack. I climbed the stairs and went into Ginny's room. I went to open my trunk when I noticed a parcel sitting on top of it. There was a similar parcel on top of Hermione's trunk as well.

'What d'you suppose this is?' I asked Hermione. She looked at her own.

'I don't know, I'd packed everything Mrs Weasley had picked up for me from Diagon Alley,' said Hermione. She was as confused as I was. At least her temper had dissipated with this distraction.

'Why don't you open them?' said Ginny.

Well it was the most logical thing to do. I undid the string that held the package together and pulled back the brown parcel paper. Whatever the thing was it was wrapped in a layer of purple tissue paper. It was probably delicate or something. I unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal a pile of dark red fabric. I frowned.

'What …' I started slowly, picking up the fabric. It lengthened as I held it up, the bottom of it flowing off my trunk to the floor. '… is this?'

I looked at in what could only be described as horror. Hermione and Ginny started laughing.

'Jenna, that's what we girls call a dress,' laughed Hermione. She too was holding one up but hers was blue in colour.

'Dress robes,' corrected Ginny. She ran her hand admiringly over Hermione's. 'D'you think this has anything to do with what's happening at Hogwarts this year? And why haven't I got any?' she added, a note of disappointment in her voice when she saw there was no package on her trunk.

There was a knock on the door. Mrs Weasley came in, a large pile of freshly laundered robes in her arms.

'Your robes, girls,' she said, handing them to us.

'Mum, why haven't I got any dress robes like Hermione and Jenna?' asked Ginny.

'Only fourth years and above required them, dear,' explained Mrs Weasley. 'They're an addition this year. Jenna, your uncle sent me an owl saying you'd forgotten to buy some when you got your school things because it wasn't on your main school list and asked me to pick some out for you. I hope they suit you both,' Mrs Weasley added, examining mine. 'I wasn't really sure what styles would be best but they should at least fit. I took your school robes with me for sizes.'

I stared at Mrs Weasley. I did not wear dresses.

'Mrs Weasley, I don't wear dresses,' I said, 'and I really don't want to.'

'Nonsense, dear,' dismissed Mrs Weasley, picking up the pile of robes for the boys. 'Now, make sure you wrap them back up so they don't get damaged in your trunks.'

Mrs Weasley left Ginny's bedroom. I turned to the others.

'Guys, I don't wear dresses,' I said desperately. 'Or heels for that matter!' I added having to my horror seen a pair of shoes had been in the package too with what looked like the thinnest, tallest heel I'd ever seen. 'Seriously! I can't wear these! Have you ever seen me in a dress or heels?'

'Oh, Jenna,' laughed Hermione. 'It's not a big deal. Besides you wear a skirt every day at Hogwarts and your shoes have a heel on them.'

'Yeah, that's my school skirt and I wear it because I have to, not because I want to,' I retorted, 'and those are school shoes. The heel's like an inch thick. I'll break my neck in these.'

Hermione and Ginny found my reaction to my dress robes hilarious. I'd never liked dresses. Whenever I had to wear a dress when I was younger it meant it was adoption day at the orphanage and myself and the other kids would get paraded around in front of all the prospective parents. I hated it, being put out on display like that, dressed up like some pretty little doll. It just wasn't me. Maybe that's why I didn't like being the centre of attention, because of those experiences. Hermione and Ginny really didn't understand my dislike of dresses when I tried to explain it to them and dismissed my protests. While I was adamant I wasn't going to wear the robes, at least mine didn't seem as bad as Ron's must have been. I wasn't sure what had happened upstairs. All we heard was Ron shouting about not wearing his robes and Mrs Weasley's fierce put down in response.

'Fine. Go naked. And Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh.'

If I'd thought mine were bad, Ron's must have been terrible.

I could tell it was the final day of the holidays when I got up the following day. There was just this odd melancholy in the air when I got downstairs. Outside rain was gently pattering on the ground forming puddles in the muddy yard. Mrs Weasley was bustling around getting breakfast ready as she always did but this time I saw she had the added strain of the head of Mr Diggory that was currently sitting in the fireplace talking to Mr Weasley who was bent over scribbling furiously on some parchment. Something about someone called "Mad-Eye" setting his dustbins on some Muggles. Rushed notes taken of the incident Mr Weasley grabbed his cloak to head off. He wished us all a good time at school and disappeared with a crack.

'Did someone say Mad-Eye?' asked Bill. He and Charlie had just joined us. 'What's he been up to now?'

'He says someone tried to break into his house last night,' said Mrs Weasley.

'Mad-Eye Moody?' said George. 'Isn't he that nutter –'

'Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody,' said Mrs Weasley disapprovingly.

'Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?' said Fred quietly.

'Moody was a great wizard in his time,' said Bill.

'He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?' said Charlie.

'Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?' said Fred. 'I mean, I know he's a genius and everything …'

'Who is Mad-Eye?' asked Harry, asking the question I certainly had as well.

'He's retired, used to work at the Ministry,' said Charlie. 'I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror – one of the best … a Dark-wizard-catcher,' he added, seeing Harry's confused expression at the term. 'Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though … the families of people he caught, mainly … and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere.'

It sounded like this wizard, Mad-Eye, was past his prime to me, despite how adept he might have been in his time. Shame. He sounded quite impressive. Would have been something to meet him when he was at the top of his game. I'd never heard of Aurors before.

It was chaos as always trying to get all of us, including Bill and Charlie who'd decided to come along for the ride, to King's Cross station in time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Mrs Weasley had braved the telephone in the village to order some Muggle taxis to get us there which you would think would be harmless enough. But then of course Muggle taxi drivers aren't accustomed to having to transport seven heavy trunks, a cat and a very over-excited owlet. It didn't help things when a load of Fred and George's Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off. All of us were bearing scratches from Crookshanks by the time we finally arrived in London. The taxis pulled into the station and we made a dash through the pelting rain for some trolleys. We loaded our individual belongings on to separate trolleys, thanked the taxi drivers, and headed inside.

In no time we were standing by the barrier for platform nine and three-quarters. We took the barrier in groups so as not to arouse any suspicion from the passing Muggles, reappearing on the other side where the gleaming red steam engine sat to take us to Hogwarts. The platform was filled with families all sending their children off. Teary parents were bidding farewell to their children who were to begin their first year. The noise set Pigwidgeon off once more and so Harry, Ron, Hermione and I went to find a compartment to store him and our trunks. With those put away, we went to say goodbye to Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie, the latter I noticed was grinning for some reason.

'I might be seeing you all sooner than you think,' said Charlie.

My ears pricked up at this. Was Charlie going to visit us at Hogwarts or something? I mean, it'd be kind of cool if that happened. I didn't really get much of a chance to talk to him about all the creatures he'd worked with over the summer. I felt a heat rise in my cheeks like it had the first time I'd met him. I cringed inwardly.

I don't have a crush on Charlie, I told myself quickly in my head, I don't have a crush on Charlie!

A tingling started around my ears. Oh crap. It had been years since this had last happened; back in my second year, I had gotten very flustered and embarrassed one day during Transfiguration class when a goblin posing as a valentine cupid had read out a valentine Neville Longbottom had sent me. I was so humiliated that a pair of wolf-like ears had sprouted through my hair in place of my normal ears. It was one of the few times I wasn't able to control my transformations. Feeling them wanting to change I gathered up my hair and wrapped a hairband round it in a messy bun, hoping that if they did pop out before I got on the train my bundle of hair would hide them.

'Why?' asked Fred.

'You'll see,' said Charlie. 'Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it … it's "classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it", after all.'

'Yeah, I sort of wish I was back at Hogwarts this year,' said Bill.

'Why?' again asked George.

'You're going to have an interesting year,' was all Bill said. 'I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it …'

'A bit of what?' said Ron.

But our time was up. The train whistle sounded. Mrs Weasley started her rounds giving us each a hug and a packed lunch before bustling us on to the train. Hermione and I shouted our thanks for having us to stay over the summer and once again Mrs Weasley hinted about whatever was going on at Hogwarts this year when she said we'd probably stay over the Christmas holidays. Curiosity was killing the Weasley boys as they shouted at their mother to tell us what they knew but they merely smiled and waved us off as the train started to pull away from the station. We returned to our compartment none the wiser. Pigwidgeon instantly started hooting when he saw us. Ron opened his trunk and pulled out what looked like a maroon-coloured, motheaten blanket. He threw it over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle him.

'Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts,' said Ron grumpily. He sat down next to Harry, arms crossed. 'At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what –'

'Ssh!' whispered Hermione suddenly.

She pressed her finger to her lips then pointed at the compartment door. I followed her point to see she was indicating the compartment next to ours, behind Harry and Ron's seat. Quietly we shifted ourselves closer to our door. Hermione nudged the door open a bit wider with her foot. Voices were travelling from the other compartment as their inhabitants made no effort to lower them. I didn't need someone to tell me who the voices belonged to.

'… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know,' came the unmistakeable drawl of Malfoy. 'He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man's such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do …'

'Ugh.' I made no attempt to hide my disgust from the others at who I was related to. Not wanting to hear anymore, I got up and quietly moved past Hermione to close the door. 'Can't believe I'm related to that.'

'You're related to Malfoy?' asked Harry.

'Yeah,' I said, sitting back down. I slumped back in my seat, my arms folded over my waist. I really didn't like the fact I was related to people like him or that so much of my family were like that. Apart from Dad I didn't know of any others who were any good. 'His mum's like Dad's cousin or something. Apparently a lot of the older pure-blood families like ours are related somehow. I wasn't that surprised when Dad told me I was related to them when I learnt how dark my family's history is. Sounded like they all should have gone to Durmstrang too.'

Hermione huffed.

'So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?' she said. 'I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him.'

'Durmstrang's another wizarding school?' Harry then asked.

'Yes,' sniffed Hermione, 'and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.'

'My family definitely belonged there then,' I scoffed.

'I think I've heard of it,' said Ron vaguely. 'Where is it? What country?'

'Well, nobody knows, do they?' said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

'Er – why not?' asked Harry.

'There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets.'

'Come off it,' laughed Ron. 'Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts, how are you going to hide a dirty great castle?'

Hermione and I looked at each other. Ron was kidding, right?

'But Hogwarts is hidden,' said Hermione, 'everyone knows that … well, everyone who's read Hogwarts: A History, anyway.'

'Just you, then,' said Ron. 'So go on – how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?'

'It's bewitched,' said Hermione simply. 'If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE.'

'So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider, too?'

'Maybe,' shrugged Hermione, 'or it might have Muggle-Repelling Charms on it, like the World Cup Stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable –'

'Come again?'

'Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?'

'Er … if you say so,' said Harry.

'But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,' continued Hermione. 'Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms.'

'Ah, think of the possibilities,' said Ron. 'It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident … shame his mother likes him …'

'She doesn't if that look on her face at the match was anything to go by,' I muttered.

The train journey was pretty uneventful for the most part. As the day drew on we got a few visits from our friends Seamus, Dean and Neville. Unsurprisingly Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette from the World Cup. Neville, who hadn't been able to go, sat enviously listening to the boys recount the match to him. Hermione and I eventually switched off from the conversation after about half an hour or so and started discussing potential spells we could be learning this year from what she'd read in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. It was only when our compartment door opened once more that we stopped our conversation to see who had entered now. To my dismay it was Malfoy and his two thuggish friends, Crabbe and Goyle.

'Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,' said Harry coolly.

Malfoy ignored Harry, his interest instead on Pigwidgeon's covered cage.

'Weasley … what is that?' he said, his nose wrinkled.

He reached up and tugged at the mouldy material on Pigwidgeon's cage. What looked like a lacy lined sleeve had been swaying with the movement of the train. Ron jumped up to grab the material but it was too late. Malfoy pulled the sleeve loose. The material had been robes. These must've been the dress robes Ron had taken such offence to and to be honest I could see why.

'Look at this!' said Malfoy gleefully holding up the robes. He showed them to Crabbe and Goyle. 'Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean – they were very fashionable in about 1890 …'

'Eat dung, Malfoy!' said Ron.

His face had turned the same colour as his robes. Ron snatched them back out of Malfoy's hands as he, Crabbe and Goyle burst into fits of laughter.

'So … going to enter, Weasley?' Malfoy asked once he'd stopped laughing. 'Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? there's money involved as well, you know … you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won …'

'What are you talking about?' snapped Ron.

'Are you going to enter?' repeated Malfoy. 'I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?'

'Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy,' said Hermione.

If it was possible Malfoy's smirk increased.

'Don't tell me you don't know?' he said, delighted by our ignorance. 'You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my Father told me about it ages ago … heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry … maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley … yes … they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him …'

Malfoy let out another loud laugh then beckoned Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. They left. Ron, beet red with anger, got up and slammed the compartment door with such force that the glass in the windowpane shattered. Hermione sharply reprimanded Ron for his temper then fixed the door with a flick of her wand. I kind of knew where Ron was coming from; back at the orphanage a girl called Mandy used to torment me all the time for having no parents so I knew what it was like. Still, Ron did need to learn to not rise to Malfoy's taunts as he's done so many times in the past.

Seamus, Dean and Neville returned to their compartment shortly after Malfoy's exit to change into their robes as we were going to arrive at Hogwarts any moment now. Ron's foul mood hadn't improved much and he silently pulled on his uniform. It was dark outside when the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Rain lashed the windows and the stone platform while thunder rumbled overhead. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I made a dash for the carriages, heads bent against the icy weather. I could just hear Hagrid's voice in the distance calling the new first year students towards the boats that would take them across the lake to the school. I didn't envy them having to do this in this weather. Holding the door open long enough for Neville to join us, those invisible horses that pulled the carriage started off towards the school.

The storm outside raged on. We arrived after a somewhat rocky journey and ran quickly through the courtyard into the Entrance Hall. Our robes were soaked and our hair plastered to our faces. I had made the mistake of not tying up my hair before we left the train. I gathered it up and wrung it out down its length creating a small puddle at my feet then fastened it into as neat a ponytail I could manage. Even Hermione's curly mane had finally been flattened by the amount of water it seemed to have absorbed. The boys all looked like monks with their varying hair lengths stuck to their skins. I was glad to finally be inside only to find that it was short lived. A hysterical cackle was the only warning we got before a large red balloon filled with water exploded on Ron's head. Screams filled the Hall as people attempted to dodge Peeves's water bullets. He cackled gleefully, his eyes glinting maliciously as he took aim at us.

'PEEVES!' yelled an angry voice. It was Professor McGonagall. She came rushing out of the Great Hall at all the commotion. 'Peeves, come down here at ONCE!' One moment Professor McGonagall was there; the next, she had grabbed Hermione near the neck as she hadn't noticed the slippery patch of floor beneath her. She narrowly missed hitting the floor. 'Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger –'

'That's all right, Professor,' breathed Hermione, massaging her neck.

'Peeves, get down here NOW!' barked Professor McGonagall, composure regained. She scowled at him through her square spectacles. Even now after three years her piercing look was able to send chills down me.

'Not doing nothing!' cackled Peeves. He threw another water balloon towards us. It hit the wall just by some fifth-year girls who all made a break for the Great Hall. 'Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!'

He aimed once more at the second-years who had just got inside unawares of his attack.

'I shall call the Headmaster!' warned Professor McGonagall. 'I'm warning you, Peeves –'

Dumbledore was one of only two people (well, one person and one ghost) whom Peeves would listen to. Annoyed that his fun was to be cut short at Professor McGonagall's threat, Peeves stuck out his tongue at her. He then threw his remaining water balloons high into the air above him and flew off cackling that he'd managed to at least cause some chaos before he was stopped. The balloons hit the floor in a series of splats causing small groups of students to scream and jump out the way as they exploded on contact with the stone. Professor McGonagall ordered us into the Hall for the Start-Of-Term feast, snapping at some of the girls for their childish behaviour when it was just water.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I walked down the aisle and took our seats about halfway along the Gryffindor table on the far left side of the Hall. The end few on either side nearest the staff table were all empty ready for the new first years. Each place was elegantly laid with golden plates and goblets that would soon be filled with food and drink. Ron was still muttering angrily under his breath about Peeves's attack. He'd be happy again as soon as he got some food in him no doubt. I took a seat next to Harry, Hermione and Ron on the opposite side, then looked up towards the teachers. Chatter echoed around the Hall, the students all glad to be able to warm up. The Hogwarts ghosts were also gathered for the Sorting, Nearly Headless Nick cheerfully greeting us when he joined the table.

'Hiya, Harry!'

I looked round when I heard the familiar excited voice of Colin Creevey, a small pale blond third-year Gryfffindor. He'd been one of Harry's most avid fans since the day they first met in our second year.

'Hi, Colin,' said Harry. I noted his tone, already clear he didn't want to deal with Colin.

'Harry, guess what?' said Colin. 'Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!'

Oh good, I thought, there's two of them.

'Er – good,' said Harry.

'He's really excited!' said Colin. If this was Colin being excited, I dread to think what this boy Dennis' excitement would be like. 'I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?'

'Er – year, all right,' said Harry. Colin practically bounced off up the table. Harry turned to us. 'Brothers and sisters usually go in the same houses, don't they?'

'Oh, no, not necessarily,' said Hermione. 'Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical, you'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?'

'So was Dad and his brother,' I said. My other uncle, Dad's little brother, Regulus. He'd been in Slytherin like the rest of the family while Dad was a Gryffindor; he'd died before I was born so was another relative I would never meet. Not that that was a sad thing I guess. 'He was put in Slytherin the year after Dad started here.'

Harry glanced away and up at the staff table. There were a lot of empty seats currently.

'Where's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?' asked Hermione who had followed his gaze.

Since we had started at Hogwarts three years ago, we had never had a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted longer than the year. Professor Quirrell, our first-year teacher, had been a very hit and miss teacher with his lessons as he was practically afraid of his own shadow, however, it had turned out that he was sharing his body with Voldemort's weakened spirit, who faced Harry once again at the end of the year and was sent fleeing when he failed to get the Philosopher's Stone. Quirrell had died in the process when Voldemort had left his body. Our second-year teacher was the vacuous Lockhart. His good looks and charming smile enchanted almost every female student but hardly made up for his lack of skill and knowledge in the subject as all his exploits were merely the work of other wizards he'd bewitched and taken credit for. The wand tip was turned on him though in the end and he fell under his own powerful Memory Charm when Harry and Ron had taken him with them to find the Chamber of Secrets and he'd tried to erase their memories. Last year, we had Lupin, by far the favourite and best teacher we'd had for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I wasn't being biased just because he was my Uncle. He genuinely was and a lot of people agreed. It was only after Snape had exposed his secret of being a werewolf that Lupin had resigned. If that hadn't of happened, he might have still been here. So, once more we started another year with anticipation of who we would get now.

'Maybe they couldn't get anyone!' said Hermione anxiously.

'Well, they say the job's cursed,' I said, 'maybe no one wants to take it after one death, one bewitchment and one werewolf.'

Harry and Ron chuckled at my sarcasm.

The doors of the Great Hall finally re-opened and Professor McGonagall led the new first-years up the central aisle between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables towards the front where the Sorting Hat and stool stood waiting for them. They all looked terrified. I remember that feeling. I'd been the second person Sorted in our year and had felt very sick as I waited for the Hat to place me, torn between Slytherin and Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat started with its customary song detailing each House's qualities; Harry, who hadn't been to a Sorting since our own, was surprised by the different song, but Ron pointed out it's got a whole year to create a new one being used only once a year.

One by one the first years were called forward. Each one had the same scared expression as they waited then relief when the Hat called out a House. Students of the selected House clapped and cheered as they ran to join it. Colin's brother Dennis was soon to be Sorted and very easy to pick out; a tiny boy with the same excited bounce in his step ran up to the stool, tripping on the large moleskin coat that drowned his figure. Why he was wearing Hagrid's coat was anyone's guess. Sure enough, he was Sorted into Gryffindor, and he ran to join his older brother. I just caught the words "fell in lake" and "giant squid" through the cheers. Slowly but surely the group of first years diminished until 'Whitby, Kevin!' was the last one left and Hufflepuff's last new recruit.

'About time,' said Ron, who had seized his knife and fork before the boy had even left the stool.

With the Sorting over, Dumbledore got to his feet. He smiled round at all the expectant faces of his students and held out his arms in welcome.

'I have only two words to say to you,' he told us. 'Tuck in.'

Harry and Ron didn't need telling twice and they filled their plates with food. Though hungry, Hermione and I took a more restrained approach as we helped ourselves. I spooned a portion of chicken and leek pie on to my plate with some vegetables on the side and poured myself a goblet of orange juice then tucked in. The hot food warmed me instantly. As predicted Ron's mood instantly lifted as soon as he swallowed his first mouthful and he let out a sigh of content.

'You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know,' said Nearly Headless Nick. 'There was trouble in the kitchens earlier.'

'Why? Wha' 'appened?' said Harry, mouth full of food.

'Harry,' I said, wrinkling my nose at his lack of manners.

'Peeves, of course,' said Nearly Headless Nick, who also looked a bit put out by Harry's mouthful. He shook his head which wobbled from beneath his ruff. He pulled it up to better support it. 'The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast – well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilised, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghosts' council – the Fat Friar was all for giving him a chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down.'

The Bloody Baron, a stern spectre of Slytherin and the other (ghost) person who could control Peeves.

'Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something,' said Ron, glaring. 'So what did he do in the kitchens?'

'Oh, the usual,' shrugged Nearly Headless Nick, his head wobbling again. 'Wreaked havoc and mayhen. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits –'

'Hermione!' I jumped up, narrowly avoiding the goblet of pumpkin juice Hermione had just knocked over. 'What is this? "Let's spray Jenna with food night"?'

'There are house-elves here?' she said, stunned, and completely ignoring my protests. 'Here at Hogwarts?'

'Certainly,' said Nearly Headless Nick. He raised his white eyebrows at Hermione's reaction. 'The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred.'

'I've never seen one!' said Hermione.

'Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?' replied Nearly Headless Nick. 'They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning … see to the fires and so on … I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?'

Hermione gaped at him. I rolled my eyes and went back to my food. Yet another house-elf argument was coming.

'But they get paid?' she said. 'They get holidays, don't they? And – and sick leave, and pensions and everything?'

Nearly Headless Nick laughed. His head swayed so badly it came loose from the ruff and fell backwards on the skin that still held it to his neck. He pushed it back up and reposition his ruff.

'Sick leave and pensions?' he chuckled. 'House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!'

Hermione looked down at her plate of chicken and roast potatoes. She put her knife and fork together on the plate then pushed it away. Ron tried to placate her, spraying Harry and me with food, but Hermione muttered something about "slave labour" and refused to eat another bite even with Ron trying to tempt her with dessert. I sighed. It wasn't that she wasn't right about the fact that house-elves were treated poorly but for all we knew they could actually enjoy what they did like Winky said even if Dobby didn't; it wasn't up to her to decide what was right for them.

'So!' said Dumbledore loudly when the plates were cleared and the food was gone. 'Now that we are all fed and watered,' (a 'Humph!' came from Hermione) '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 this list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. 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.'

A quiet ripple of amusement went around the Hall. Even Dumbledore's lip twitched.

'As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

'It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.'

I sat up in surprise. It was like a canon had gone off. Objections rang out at the news there would be no Quidditch. Harry, Fred and George, all members of the Gryffindor team, were shouting out in response. What reason could they possibly have to cancel Quidditch?

'This,' continued Dumbledore over the ruckus he'd started, '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 –'

A loud rumble of thunder overhead drowned out Dumbledore's words. A flash of lighting illuminated the bewitched ceiling. The door of the Great Hall banged opened causing several girls to scream. I spun round in my seat to see what was going on.

A man was stood in the doorway leaning heavily upon a tall wooden staff. He was wearing a thick black travelling cloak for protection against the weather. Another fork of lighting flashed across the sky and it illuminated his face. The stranger lowered his head to reveal a thick, grizzled mane of greying dark hair. He started to make his way up towards the teachers' table. A heavy clunk sounded with every step. My eyes followed. The stranger limped up the couple of steps up to the teacher's table and approached Dumbledore. They shook hands. A third flash of lighting and the stranger's face was illuminated. I gasped. I'd never seen a face so haggard before. Scars covered every inch of his skin; his mouth was thin and crooked; a large chunk of his nose appeared to have been carved out; but none of his appearance compared to his eye. While one, dark and small, scowled at us as we stared at him, the other was large, electric blue and was rolling on its own accord from one side to the other then, most disturbingly, into the back of its socket.

The stranger and Dumbledore shared a few short words before he took a seat at the end of the teachers' table. A plate of sausages appeared before him and, after a suspicious sniff at one, he started eating. He appeared completely indifferent at the reaction of his arrival. Silence ensued, the entire Hall baffled by this man's sudden entrance and appearance.

'May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said Dumbledore cheerfully. 'Professor Moody.'

My eyes widened. I glanced away at Dumbledore then back at the stranger. Moody? Not –?

'Mad-Eye Moody?' whispered Harry. 'The one your dad went to help this morning?'

'Must be,' breathed Ron.

'What happened to him?' whispered Hermione. 'What happened to his face?'

'Dunno,' said Ron.

'He looks like he's been attacked several times over,' I said, not hiding the shock in my voice.

Moody reached into his travelling cloak. From it he pulled out a small silver hip-flask and took a long drink from it. As he lifted his arm I saw the source of the clunking from earlier. One of his legs had been replaced with an artificial one made of heavy-looking wood, a clawed foot carved at the end.

'What d'you reckon he's drinking?' asked Harry.

'Whatever it is, I don't think it's pumpkin juice,' I breathed. A man like that would need something considerably stronger.

'As I was saying,' Dumbledore cleared his throat once more to recapture the attention of the students, 'we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.'

The Hall exploded once more, all attention on Moody gone. Gasps and conversations broke out at Dumbledore's announcement. I didn't understand, confused by all the excitement. I'd never heard of this tournament before. What was going on?

'You're JOKING!' shouted Fred.

'I am not joking, Mr Weasley,' chuckled Dumbledore, 'though, now you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar –'

Behind him, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

'Er – but maybe this is not the time … no … Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament … well, some of you will not know what this Tournament involves, so I hope those who do will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

'The Triwizard Tournament was first established some several 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, and 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.'

My jaw dropped. Hermione seemed to echo my shock as I heard her breath, 'Death toll?' Very few others, however, seemed bothered by this fact.

'There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament,' continued Dumbledore, 'none of which have been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

'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 on Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.

'Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, 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 who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This,' Dumbledore had to raise his voice as an outburst of objections, including from the Weasley twins, to the age limit had started, 'is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely 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.'

Dumbledore's light blue eyes twinkled; I could have sworn he was looking directly at Fred and George's disgruntled 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 he or she is 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!'

'So that's what Malfoy had been on about on the train,' I said, turning to the others. 'Some tournament with the prospect of getting yourself killed.'

'At least there's an age restriction to stop the younger students entering,' said Hermione, her brow furrowed.

'They can't do that!' came George's voice. I glanced up the table at him. He and Fred were still in their seats looking outraged. 'We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?'

'They're not stopping me entering,' said Fred. 'The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!'

I frowned. I didn't like the idea of Fred or George attempting to enter and I was pretty sure Mrs Weasley would be aghast if they did. In fact, I didn't like the thought of any of my friends trying to enter such a dangerous sounding competition. At least Harry and Ron wouldn't be stupid enough to try with the age restriction imposed. Well, I hoped they weren't. The faraway look on Ron's face wasn't reassuring.

'Yeah,' he said dreamily. 'Yeah, a thousand Galleons …'

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

I got up and started up the aisle with the others and we left the Great Hall. Fred and George were already discussing various ways Dumbledore could try to stop underage wizards from entering the competition and who this impartial judge could be. I listened on feeling very uneasy. What happened to us having a quiet year at Hogwarts? Saying that, it wouldn't be any of us getting involved in the competition because we were all too young so we at least won't be the ones getting in danger for once. It was a comforting thought albeit not very comforting. Only Hermione seemed to share my concern. After walking these stairs and corridors for three years now, we walked back to the Gryffindor Tower giving little thought in how to get there. We reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and George said the password. She swung forward and admitted us into the common room. Here we divided to go to our separate dormitories. Before he disappeared though, I grabbed George's arm.

'You aren't seriously thinking of entering, are you?' I asked. I was surprised by the amount of concern in my voice.

George seemed taken aback by my concern. He stared at me, mouth slightly open. I waited, trying to gauge his reaction.

'I'd be lying if I said no,' eventually George said.

'George, it's dangerous,' I said, again surprising myself with how emphatic I was being. 'You could get hurt!'

'Jenna,' George hesitated, 'you don't come from a family who have no gold. That prize money, it could make a world of difference. For Mum and Dad.'

I stared at George. I couldn't fault his noble intentions but he was wrong when he said I didn't know what it was like to have no money. I only had gold that was left to me and that was for school and my future; I lived day-to-day on what little Lupin could bring in.

'Is it really worth it though?' I asked. 'Putting yourself in danger like that just for a bit of gold? Your mum wouldn't want that.'

'It could be,' shrugged George. He turned away to go up the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. 'I appreciate the concern, Jenna, but this isn't your choice. If Fred and I want to try and enter, then we will.'

I watched as George walked away. I frowned. While I knew George was the more cautious of the twins and Fred would plough into an idea as soon as he had it, I kind of knew nothing I could say would change his mind, especially if it meant he could help his parents. At least I had the comfort knowing that Dumbledore's age restrictions would hopefully stop them from getting picked.

I woke up the next day with an unsettled feeling still in my stomach from Dumbledore's announcement last night. So many people I knew could enter that competition and I didn't like the thought of any of them getting hurt. But as George had pointed out, it would be their decision if they were to enter knowing what they would be getting themselves into. Hermione was already getting dressed when I finally got out of bed. The sounds of Parvati and Lavender's incessant gossiping floated around me as I pulled on my new school robes. Telling Hermione I'd meet her down at breakfast, I finished getting ready and sorted out my school bag to be collected once we had our timetables. I ran my brush through my hair and pinned it back. I checked my appearance in the mirror over the sink, adjusted my tie just enough so that it hid my open collar button, shrugged in satisfaction that I was presentable, then left the dormitory.

The Great Hall was virtually full when I arrived. I stopped at the doorway to scan the Gryffindor table for Harry, Ron and Hermione. The Hall was filled with chatter as students caught up with each other after the summer holidays. Chatter and … whispers? My attention diverted. I glanced round the Hall. Several faces were looking in my direction from each of the House tables and from what I saw most of them were boys; they would sneak glances at me before whispering to their friends. One or two small groups of girls were doing the same as well including a group of Ravenclaws I knew were in the year above me. What on earth? What had I done? Did I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something. Lowering my eyes I walked over to the Gryffindor table trying to ignore the attention I was receiving for some strange reason. I found Harry, Ron and Hermione and took a seat.

The owl post arrived shortly after I'd arrived. To my dismay Gizmo had returned but he had no note from Dad with him. Instead he was carrying a small pierce of parchment with a black and yellow ribbon around it. I took it and fed Gizmo a bit of bacon. While he had no reply from Dad, I was still grateful he'd made the journey and had found him given he no longer had my original note. While Harry, Ron and Hermione discussed our new timetables for the year, I tucked into a bowl of cornflakes and opened the note. It was from Cedric. I held in a groan. It was an invite to a small birthday party for him on the fifteenth. Not wanting Hermione to see this I folded the note back up and stowed it away in the pocket of my robes. I glanced over my shoulder at the Hufflepuff table; I found Cedric sitting near the top by the doors of the Great Hall with a group of his friends. They had been some of those who'd stared at me when I'd entered. He laughed at something one of them said, a wide grin on his face. I shook my head and returned to my breakfast. I wasn't interested in going to his party even if he'd invited me.

Our first lesson of the year was Herbology in greenhouse three with Professor Sprout. Herbology wasn't a bad subject, just every so often during class I realised how much I didn't have any great ability in caring for plants. Neville, however, was always a bit of an unexpected star with his green fingers. Dealing with Bubotubers certainly didn't make me any fonder of the subject. Horribly ugly plants that looked like giant slugs, our task was to get as much pus (yes – pus) from the Bubotubers for the school supply as it was apparently a very valuable ingredient. Used in a lot of potions that helped cure acne apparently. It stank badly though.

Care of Magical Creatures followed Herbology. We left the greenhouses and separated from the Hufflepuffs who didn't take the subject and crossed the castle grounds towards Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was stood outside waiting for us, his large black boarhound, Fang, sat at his feet. Lying on the ground were several large wooden crates. Knowing Hagrid's past history of creatures he brought to class, I wasn't too keen on seeing what was inside those boxes. Strange rattling noises were coming from with what sounded like the odd explosion punctuating it every so often. Hagrid jovially greeted us and said we just had to wait for the Slytherins who took the class to join us before we'd begin. Apparently we were studying Blast-Ended Skrewts.

I hesitated then braved looking into one of the crates. I drew back slightly at the sight of them. The "skrewts", as Hagrid called them, looked like half-deformed creatures that were a cross between a lobster and a scorpion. They were pale and shell-less with no visible head and vicious-looking clawed legs and were currently about six inches long. The crate was full of the disgusting creatures. They crawled around and over each other like a swarm of angry bees. Every so often one would suddenly "explode" in a shower of hot sparks and propel itself forward. The worst part was the smell of rotten fish they seemed to give off.

'On'y jus' hatched,' said Hagrid proudly, 'so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!'

'And why would we want to raise them?

The Slytherins had arrived. Malfoy peered into one of the crates, his face clearly showing his repulsion at the creatures.

'I mean, what do they do?' he sneered. 'What is the point of them?'

Hagrid seemed to stumble for a moment, before saying, 'Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things – I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer – I got ant eggs an' frogs livers an' a bit o' grass-snake – just try 'em out with a bit of each.'

'First push and now this,' muttered Seamus, mimicking everyone's opinion.

As much as I loved magical creatures and our friendship with Hagrid, it took a lot for me and the others to put our hands into those crates and handle the Skrewts. It didn't help that whenever they exploded we risked getting burnt or, as Lavender saw, some had stingers so we risked getting stung as well. Even Hermione's optimism that they could prove useful didn't convince me to want to be part of Hagrdi's project. They may be small now but who knew what could happen if they got any bigger. Slowly the hour past and the lesson ended. We returned to the castle for a well needed lunch. Hermione, who had appeared to have done a one-eighty on her refusal to eat last night, bolted some food then rushed off to go to the library which had to be a record for her as we hadn't even been given any homework yet. Brushing this off as typical Hermione, I ate my lunch with the boys as we mentally prepared ourselves for our first Divination lesson of the year.

I never looked forward to Divination lessons. It wasn't that the subject was a bunch of nonsense, it just didn't produce many results. You could spend hours staring at tealeaves or into a crystal ball and see nothing. It took a lot patience which I was not always brimming with. It didn't help that the classroom was always hot and full of the smell of sickening perfumes and Professor Trelawney seemed like she was one spell away from a breakdown as she fought to keep our attention. The only people who hung on her every word were Parvati and Lavender. The rest of us were all usually dozing on our pouffes by the time she'd finished her melodramatic introductions. I struggled to keep focus as Professor Trelawney told us about this term's work stargazing, snapping to when Ron nudged Harry beside me. Professor Trelawney was standing at our table.

'I was saying, my dear,' she told us, 'that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn.'

'Born under – what, sorry?' said Harry.

'Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!' said Professor Trelawney, irritated. 'I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth … your dark hair … your mean stature … tragic losses so young in life … I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?'

'No,' said Harry, 'I was born in July.'

Ron and I had to turn away to stop ourselves sniggering.

We sat for the hour filling in charts of planetary positions from our moments of birth which was an accomplishment in itself if you managed to concentrate for that long and homework was to do an analysis of planetary movements for the next month and how it will affect us. I think the amount of work we got was partly due to Ron's comment about seeing Lavender's Uranus when she said she'd found unaspected planet. Professor Trelawney hadn't been impressed. Harry, Ron and I gladly left the classroom and returned to the Great Hall for dinner where we met up once more with Hermione. We joined the queue waiting to get into the Great Hall.

'Weasley! Hey, Weasley!'

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I turned round. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were standing a few feet away from us. They all looked rather pleased about something. I didn't like the looks of this.

'What?' said Ron.

'Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!' said Malfoy. He had a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hand. 'Listen to this!'

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita
Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the
Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its
witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics
of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

Uh oh, I thought. This wasn't good. Malfoy was loving it as he read the article out loud for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

'Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley, it's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?' he laughed.

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago,
was yesterday involved with a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ('policemen')
over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr Weasley appears to have rushed to
the aid of 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no
longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder.

Unsurprisingly, Mr Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr Moody's heavily guarded house,
that Mr Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr Weasley was forced to modify
several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer
Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified
and potentially embarrassing scene.

'And there's a picture, Weasley!' shouted Malfoy. He held the paper up so we could see it. Sure enough there was a picture of Mr and Mrs Weasley outside The Burrow. 'A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?'

Ron was shaking with anger. People all round the Entrance Hall was watching him.

'Get stuffed, Malfoy,' said Harry. 'C'mon, Ron …'

The four of us turned to go into the Great Hall. Malfoy, however, wasn't finished with us.

'Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?' said Malfoy. 'So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?'

Harry, Hermione and I all grabbed Ron's robes to stop him as he made to lunge at Malfoy.

'You know your mother, Malfoy,' said Harry. 'That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?'

A rush of pink spread over Malfoy's pale face.

'Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter,' snarled Malfoy.

'Keep your fat mouth shut, then,' said Harry.

'Yeah, don't dish it out if you can't handle it back, Malfoy,' I said warningly. 'You're all wand and no spell.'

I gave him a scathing look then turned away once more with the others.

BANG!

Several people screamed. I looked round just in time to see a spell come speeding towards us. It flew past my face missing it by mere inches; next to me, Harry too must have felt the heat of the spell as seconds later he had gone for his wand. Before he'd drawn it though there was a second loud BANG and a shout echoed through the Entrance Hall.

'OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!'

Professor Moody's snarl rung through the Hall as he limped down the Marble Staircase towards us. Clutching his staff in one hand and wand in the other, he scowled at the scene before him, his eyes (both normal and electric blue) focused on the ground in front of him. I followed where his wand was pointing. My eyes widened and mouth fell open. There on the ground where Malfoy had been standing mere seconds before was a pure white ferret. Nobody dared move or breath as Moody stalked towards us. His normal eye turned on Harry.

'Did he get you?' growled Moody, his Scottish accent as harsh as his voice.

'No,' said Harry, 'missed.'

'LEAVE IT!' shouted Moody suddenly.

Behind him, Crabbe had frozen having been about to pick up the ferret. How had Moody seen that? It was then I noticed his electric blue eye had swung backwards again. Could is see through the back of his head? Is that how he'd seen Crabbe go for the ferret? All of sudden I was beginning to understand why he was called "Mad-Eye" and clearly for more than one reason. Moody turned on Crabbe. He took a large step towards them. The ferret let out a terrified squeal and made a run for it towards the dungeons.

'I don't think so!' roared Moody. He flicked his wand at the ferret. The ferret skidded to a stop. With another flick it shot up into the air then fell with a smack on the stone floor. Again and again this happened, the ferret bouncing higher and higher with every go. 'I don't like people who attack when their opponents back's turned,' growled Moody. The ferret squealed. 'Stinking, cowardly scummy thing to do … Never – do – that – again –'

'Professor Moody!'

Professor McGonagall appeared. Her eyes took in the sight before her from us standing behind Moody to Moody with his wand going up and down to the white ferret bouncing up and down in mid-air.

'Hello, Professor McGonagall,' said Moody. Another flick. The ferret went higher.

'What – what are you doing?' asked Professor McGonagall. Her eyes were following the ferret.

'Teaching,' grunted Moody.

'Teach –' Professor McGonagall's face took on a look of shock, 'Moody, is that – is that a student?'

'Technically it's a ferret,' said Moody.

Professor McGonagall gasped. The books she had been carrying dropped to the floor. She ran down the stairs and drew out her own wand. With a sharp flick and a snap, the ferret spun on the floor and Draco Malfoy reappeared. He got up his hair a mess and his face pink. He looked around still twitching like he had done as the ferret. When he saw Moody, he stumbled back from him.

'My father will hear about this,' he spat, glaring at Moody.

'Is that a threat?' Moody growled. He limped towards Malfoy. Malfoy jumped backwards, almost cowering behind Crabbe and Goyle as Moody stared down on him. 'Is that a threat?' he repeated.

'Professor Moody!'

'I could tell you stories about your father that would curl even your greasy hair, boy!''

'Alastor!'

'It doesn't end here!'

'Alastor!'

Professor Moody stopped his advances on Malfoy and glared at Professor McGonagall. She didn't buckle, staring back with her own piercing look.

'Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!' snapped Professor McGonagall. 'Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?'

'He might've mentioned it, yeah,' growled Moody. He scratched his chin, seemingly unconcerned. 'But I thought a good sharp shock –'

'We give detention, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House.'

Malfoy was still peering out from behind Crabbe and Goyle. He seemed to flinch when Moody's eyes turned on him. The words "my father" slipped from his mouth again. Moody heard.

'Oh yeah?' he said. He took another step towards Malfoy. 'Well, I know your father of old, boy …' he said in a low growl, 'you tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son … you tell him that from me … now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?'

'Yes,' said Malfoy resentfully.

'Another old friend,' growled Moody. 'I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape … come on, you …'

Moody pushed Crabbe to one side and seized the shoulder of Malfoy's robes. They turned away and walked down the staircase that led to the dungeons. There was silence round the Hall as people were unsure what to do now the commotion had ended. No one had ever seen anything like that happen at Hogwarts before. We were all stunned. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand at her fallen books to gather them back up into her arms. With a swift order for us all to go to dinner, she strode off back up the Marble Staircase to return to what she had previously been doing.

'Don't talk to me,' said Ron quietly to the rest of us when we'd taken our seats at the Gryffindor table. Talk had once again started now we were in the Hall and Professor McGonagall had gone about what had just happened.

'Why not?' asked Hermione.

'Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,' said Ron. To our surprise, he was smiling. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be savouring the thought. 'Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret …'

I couldn't help but laugh. I had to admit, it had been pretty funny to watch, unorthodox as it was, and Malfoy's expression afterwards when Moody advanced on him like that. Maybe this Moody was not so bad after all.

Our first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Moody wasn't until Thursday but word soon got around about what his lessons were like. Everyone was so excited that almost all the class arrived early for the lesson after lunch. Only Hermione turned up just before the lesson started; she'd been in library again, not that that was unusual in any way but whatever she was doing there was taking up a lot of her time. Moody limped out of the classroom and beckoned us inside. Harry and Ron rushed to the desk right at the front of the class, Hermione and I taking the one next to it. The sound of Moody's prosthetic foot clunked as he paced back up to the front.

'You can put those away,' he growled, sitting down at his desk. He stretched out his clawed foot. 'Those books. You won't need them.'

Moody took the register, his normal eye reading the list as his blue eye scanned each of us in turn when he said our names.

'Right then,' he said. 'I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and werewolves, is that right?'

A murmur of agreement went round the class.

'But you're behind – very behind – on dealing with curses,' said Moody. He slammed the piece of parchment on the desk causing us all to jump. 'So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I'm Alastor Moody – ex-Auror – Ministry malcontent – and your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark –'

'What, you aren't staying?' asked Ron. Moody magical eye spun to him. Ron jumped.

'You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?' said Moody. He smiled. Or at least, I think it was a smile. It was hard to tell with all the scars he had. 'Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago … yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favour to Dumbledore … one year, and then back to my quiet retirement.'

Moody laughed harshly and clapped his hands together.

'So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it 'til then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. he's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to know what you're up against! You need to be prepared! You need to be alert and watchful! You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking!'

Lavender jumped. I looked round to see her hastily put away her Divination horoscope she'd been showing Parvati. That eye of Moody's was both creepy and impressive.

'So … do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?'

I hesitated then raised my hand. So did a few others including Ron and Hermione. Moody pointed at Ron but his magical eye was still watching Lavender.

'Er,' said Ron, 'my dad told me about one … is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?'

'Ah, yes,' said Moody. He got up and limped around his desk. 'Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.'

From his desk drawer, Moody took out a glass jar. Inside were three spiders. Ron automatically recoiled. Moody placed the jar on his desk and unscrewed the lid. He caught one of the spiders and held it in the palm of his hand. The class leaned round so they could all get a good look at what was about to happen. Moody turned his wand on the spider.

'Imperio!'

The spider leapt from Moody's hand and dropped towards the floor held only by a fine thread of silk. It swung back and forth and back and forth almost like a demented trapeze artist. The only thing was it didn't look like the spider had any control in what it was doing. The spider flipped at the peak of its swing and landed on the desk where it began to cartwheel on its eight legs. With a sharp flick of Moody's wand the spider rose to the back two of its legs. It started to tap dance. People laughed at the spider's movements. Moody, however, remained stony faced.

'Think it's funny, do you?' he asked us. 'You'd like it, would you, if I did that to you?'

The laughter stopped.

'Total control.' Moody flicked his wand and brought the spider back on to the desk where it started to do a series of rolls. 'I could make it jump out the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats …

'Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,' Moody told us. 'Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

'The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' he barked suddenly. The class jumped again.

Moody picked up the first spider and put it back in the jar.

'Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?'

I raised my hand again but to my surprise it was Neville who Moody picked next.

'There's one – the Cruciatus Curse,' said Neville. His voice was quiet but I'd never heard him so sure of himself before.

Moody looked at Neville with both eyes.

'Your name's Longbottom?' he asked, his magical eye flicking downwards to check the register. Neville nodded.

Moody turned away and reached into the jar again for another spider. He placed it down on the desk. I half expected it to make a break for it but the spider remained where it was apparently to scared to move.

'The Cruciatus Curse,' said Moody darkly. 'Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea.'

With a simple enchantment the spider doubled in size. Abandoning all pretence, Ron thrust his chair backwards and away from the spider.

'Crucio!'

A shrill squeal. The spider began to shake. Its legs bent up around its body as the curse took effect. It rolled on to its back as it twitched. If it hadn't of been enlarged we probably wouldn't be able to hear its screams of what seemed to be immense pain. The longer Moody kept his wand on it, the longer the spider was subjected to the curse. I watched, horrified, but then my attention was pulled elsewhere. Neville's face had tensed. He was staring at the spider and his hands were balled into fists. Something about the spell was bothering him.

'Stop it,' I said. 'Can't you see it's bothering him!' I then shouted at Moody. 'Stop it!'

Moody looked up at me then raised his wand. The spider relaxed no longer under the spell but its legs continued to twitch. Moody shrank it back down and placed it back into the jar. He then turned and limped over to my desk. I swallowed and looked up at him. He didn't seem angry that I had shouted out but his eyes were examining me with what looked like intense curiosity.

'Black, is it?' he grunted. I nodded. His eyes seemed to narrow darkly. 'Yes …' he said very quietly, 'yes, I see the resemblance. Very much like her. She'd know all about that curse, wouldn't she?'

I felt a weight drop in my stomach. What did Moody mean? Who did I look like? And whoever they were, why would they know that curse?

'Pain,' said Moody louder to the rest of the class. 'You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse … that one was very popular once, too.

'Right … anyone know any others? Yes?'

Hermione had raised her hand.

'Avada Kedavra,' she whispered.

An uneasy silence followed. I swallowed; I didn't like what was coming. I knew what this curse was. It had haunted my nightmares for years before Lupin told me what had caused them.

'Ah,' said Moody. His mouth twisted into a lop-sided smile. 'Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra … the Killing Curse.'

The third spider frantically tried to avoid Moody's hand as he reached into the jar. He trapped it in a claw and placed it on the desk. It scuttled across the desk in an attempt to get away.

'Avada Kedavra!'

I flinched as a burst of green light shot out of Moody's wand tip. A rush of sound like wind echoed in the room. The spider rolled over. Unmarked and silent, it was dead. I stifled a gasp as did several of the other girls in the class. Ron picked himself up off the floor having thrown himself off his chair when the spider had run for it. Moody brushed it off his desk on to the floor.

'Not nice,' he said calmly. 'Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me.'

Moody looked at Harry. So did the rest of the class. Harry's face reddened and he seemed to shrink into his seat. That same curse had killed Harry's parents and was probably responsible for many other deaths.

'Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it,' grunted Moody, 'you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get as much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

'Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'

My heart jumped; I should probably get used to jumping in this class the way Moody taught.

'Now … those three curse – Avada Kedavra, Imperius and Cruciatus – are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practise constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills … copy this down …'

The rest of the lesson was spent taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. I'd never been in a class so silent before but we all seemed to have been shocked into taking the class very seriously and didn't object at all to the written work. I certainly had never felt so conflicted before about what magic could do. Torture, control and death. I knew magic had its Dark side but I would never had come up with that. The bell rang. I rolled up my parchment and put it back in my bag with my textbook. I shouldered my bag and followed the class out of the classroom. Talk resumed once we'd left as people discussed our first lesson with Moody. I, however, was looking for someone. Neville had been very out of sorts during that lesson after Moody did the Cruciatus Curse and his words to me afterwards had spooked me. I had to find Neville to see if he was all right.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all talking about the lesson giving me a chance to go on ahead. I walked down the long spiralling staircase down to the third floor from the Dark Arts Tower and into the corridor with the One-Eyed Witch's passage. I continued a bit further along and found Neville. He was stood by a window staring out into the grounds with the same wide-eyed look on his face he'd had back in the classroom. Nervously I approached him.

'Neville?' I said cautiously.

Neville heard me. He turned and looked over his shoulder at me. I swallowed. I didn't like the look he was giving me. His eyes had unnaturally hardened and his face was set as he stared at me. It was like I was reminding him of someone. Someone who'd done bad things to him. Something had happened to him in the past and what had happened in class had brought it all up for him and I had a horrible feeling my family was something to do with it. But what had happened, or who had done it, I didn't know. I fought to find something to say but words failed me.

'I'm so sorry,' was all I eventually managed before we were found by Harry, Ron and Hermione. I didn't know what I was apologising for but it felt like the only thing I could do.

'Oh, hello,' Neville said, ignoring my words when he saw the others. His face immediately changed to a more distant one. 'Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm – I'm starving, aren't you?'

'Neville, are you all right?' asked Hermione.

'Oh yes, I'm fine,' said Neville. 'Very interesting dinner – I mean lesson – what's for eating?'

'Neville, what –?' started Ron.

There was a clunk from behind us. I looked round and saw Moody limping towards us. I swallowed. What now?

'It's all right, sonny,' said Moody, his voice much gentler. 'Why don't you come up to my office? Come on … we can have a cup of tea …'

Neville's stare took a scared look. He didn't move. Moody glanced at the rest of us.

'You all right, are you, Potter?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

Moody appraised him.

'You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending … well … come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you. Professor Sprout tells me you have an aptitude for Herbology …'

Moody led a reluctant Neville back up the corridor to return to the classroom behind which the Defence Against the Dark Arts office was located. I watched as they disappeared round the corner then sighed and followed the others down to the Great Hall for dinner.