Chapter Three: Arrival At Hogwarts
Freya snapped her copy of the Daily Prophet, scanning the pages furiously as she sat in the seat across from Evie. The train rumbled and shook as Evie leaned her head against the glass, watching the raindrops spill by and counting the clouds as best she could. The words Conspiracy at Hogwarts were plastered across the first page, and Evie stared at them long enough as Freya read the continued portion of the article on page eight.
When the trolley rolled by, Freya set the paper down on the seat and went to go buy something. Evie took the chance to lean forward and grab the paper, watching as the article's picture shifted from the castle to a photo of Headmistress McGonagall.
"Insanity, isn't it?" Freya murmured as she plopped back down, offering Evie a Cauldron Cake and Pumpkin Pasty in exchange for the paper. "I still can't believe they're bringing the Tri-Wizard Tournament back. Is McGonagall aching for some scrutiny?"
Evie shrugged as she took a bite of the Cauldron Cake, tasting the chocolate and butter creme layers. "Tournament's supposed to be friendly competition between the Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs," she said, her voice a bit muffled. "It was meant to bring people together. If you ask me, now's the perfect time to give that another go."
"The Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs aren't even competing this year. It'll be Ilvermorny and Koldovstoretz."
Evie blinked—America and Russia were competing, this time? "I didn't know that. Why the sudden change?"
Freya pointed to the paper like it was pure rubbish in her hands. "According to this, they're expecting a broader outreach across the world by inviting these schools. It's ridiculous. We'll have more than the tournament to worry about this year, mark my words."
Evie's chewing slowed at the solemness in Freya's voice."What are you talking about?"
The rain pounded against the window as Freya stared at her. "They hate us, all of them. You know they do."
"Who hates us?"
"The world, Evie," Freya said. "Maybe not you—not as much, anyway. But I'm a Lestrange. My cousins are Malfoys. Our families sided with the Dark Lord during the war."
Evie rolled her eyes. "If that's what you're worried about, then let others do and say what they will."
Freya eyed her friend closely. "When do you plan on telling the others the truth about entering your name?"
Evie fell silent.
The tournament's reinstatement this year remained as confusing as it was unexpected. The negative attention it garnered in the Daily Prophet couldn't be understated. Each explanation for the decision was as unsettling and unlikely as the next, and tempers escalated in all conversations that brushed the subject. Evie could scarcely imagine anyone in their group approving the decision—not that it mattered. But she could picture it, given their numerous explicit conversations about how terrifyingly psychotic one would have to be to throw their name into the Goblet of Fire.
It seemed none of them considered the prosperity that the selection alone would bring, even if the chosen candidate won none of the competitions. To be worthy of being chosen by the goblet was an honor of its own.
"I don't know when I'm going to tell them," Evie said. "It was hard enough telling you, Frey. You think I don't know why you're making a point to warn me how dangerous it is for a death eater's descendant to be in the public eye? Well, I say that if I'm chosen for the tournament, the public eye is welcome to make a fool of itself by implying that I'm anything other than a student participating in an international competition."
Freya rolled her eyes. "Don't be so naive. Eloquent speeches won't change the narrative," she said. "People are products of their families—just take a look at mine. Cold, pernicious villains, the lot of them. You may not be a Lestrange, but you are a Nott. You bear the burden of your family name as readily as I do."
"I disagree with everything you just said," Evie answered instantly. "Not everyone is a product of their family, and I decide which burdens I carry."
It took a moment for the Lestrange girl to acquiesce. "Fine." Freya sat back and looked back down at the paper, reading off one of the sections. "Some of the critics are saying this tournament commemorates the Dark Lord. I don't care what you say, Evie—if a death eater's descendant is chosen to compete, given what they're saying about it, there'll be more than dragons and mermaids for us to worry about at Hogwarts."
"So you've said. Again and again."
Freya shot her a cutting glare. "Keeping you alive is going to be a full time job this year, isn't it?"
Evie smirked. "With the trouble we get ourselves into, isn't it always?"
A few hours later, Evie and the others piled into the Great Hall. The sorting ceremony proceeded much as it always did: the hat sang its merry heart out with a brand new rendition of its song, and then it sorted all the first-years into their respective houses. The professors sat magnificently at the head of the room and watched, nursing their fine goblets.
Evie had settled beside Freya at Slytherin's table, her thoughts and worries drowned out by the clatter and boisterous laughs. When McGonagall rose to give the headmistress's announcement, everyone already knew what it would be about. Looking around, Evie had never seen the entirety of the hall fall into utter silence as the headmistress rose to the podium. A quick scan of the company's faces showed no apprehension—not a single inkling. Atrius, Oliver, Theseus, and Lucretia all sat across the table from Evie and Freya.
McGonagall, meanwhile, was a vision of fine, embroidered robes of green and silver and gold. Evie's palms were starting to sweat as she waited for the announcement to begin, as a golden owl statue extended its wings before the headmistress. "Good evening," McGonagall said. "Welcome back all, to another very special year at Hogwarts. Before I address the coming news, I would like to remind you of a few notices—"
"Oh, bloody hell…" Evie mumbled impatiently under her breath, tapping her fingers against the table. In the corner of her eye, she caught the silver flash of Atrius's eyes glancing in her direction.
McGonagall's opening statements were all the usual notices: don't go into the Forbidden Forest, don't bring Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs onto campus… finally, the headmistress got to the good part, "It is my great pleasure to address what I am sure you all have heard prior to your arrival this evening. We will play host to two other schools this year in lieu of the Tri-Wizard Tournament returning to Hogwarts."
A loud rumble broke out across the crowd as she continued, "For those of you who may not know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament is an international magical competition that brings together three schools for a series of magical tasks. One student will be selected from each school, and all three will be competing in these contests. With us today, we have the Head of the International Magical Cooperation here to explain the age restrictions."
Evie rubbed her brow. Get to the good part, already.
The new Head, Percy Weasley, was once the assistant to Bartemius Crouch Sr. Later on, he became the head of magical transportation.
Mr. Weasley stood at the front of the room looking altogether pleased with himself—like he'd been born to give instruction to a crowd of people. One by one, he explained the rules while another wizard brought out the Goblet of Fire, hidden in a case of gold and jewels. When Mr. Weasley was finished, McGonagall strode in front of the cup and faced the Great Hall, throwing open the doors and announcing the arrival of the first of the great wizarding schools that would be joining them this year—Koldovstoretz students and their headmaster, Varence Mikala.
Instead of a crowd or group of people, a cold wind blew in through the doors, growing colder and colder until the currents of air turned white, snowflakes swathing across the Great Hall like smoke. At first, smoke was exactly what Evie thought it was—until the smoke spun and landed by McGonagall's podium, manifesting into one student after another after another, followed by their headmaster. They were all dressed to the teeth in warm white furs and coats.
The Ilvermorny students, conversely, arrived in another fashion—the stormy ceiling shiftig and turning over itself until lightning struck down to the ground. Students appeared with each strike, followed by their headmaster, Agilbert Fontaine.
"Have a look at him," Freya whispered to her left, drawing her attention toward one of the Ilvermorny students as they went to sit down, all of them moving toward the extra tables that had been set up for them. At the far end of the Great Hall, the boy Freya was referring to stuck out among the peers settling around him. Tall and burly and rather cold-looking, his eyes were a bright shade of green, his hair a deep shade of black.
"Just a pretty boy from another school," Evie whispered back to her.
At that moment, McGonagall turned her attention back on the Goblet of Fire, lowering the embroidered case that concealed it. A blue flame erupted from the lip of the cup, suspended in the air and snapping left and right.
"Here we go," Evie said, her heart racing.
"How old do you reckon that thing is?" Oliver whispered to Theseus.
"Dunno," he answered. "Ask Atrius—he's got the most interest in it of all of us."
Evie couldn't help but glance at Atrius, emboldened by a competitive spirit. Atrius was peering at the goblet, his expression sending shudders down her spine. Theseus was right—it was clear to see that interest was something Atrius had in surplus.
"Don't be too sure," Freya mumbled. "I reckon there might be someone else who's got a bit…invested."
"Bugger off, Frey," Evie said.
"What's she talking about?" Theseus whispered, looking between them, confused.
Silence.
Oliver, Theseus, and Freya all turned their eyes on Evie, while Atrius was the last to drag them in her direction. And if Evie's heart was pounding before, it was downright drumming in her chest, now. Did Freya think that outing her to the others would stop her entering her name?
Atrius folded his arms as he stared at her—a composed yet predatory stance. "Evie." His voice spilled out like velvet. "You're entering the tournament?"
It sounded more like an accusation than a question. Evie swallowed thickly.
Be brave, she chanted inwardly, glancing at the goblet before adding, Be worthy.
Evie looked at Atrius and nodded, straightening to her full height. "Yes. I am."
The air might as well have crackled between them. Atrius narrowed his eyes the slightest bit like he was amused. "Interesting." A slight grin tugged on the corner of his lip. Atrius slowly lifted his hand, extending it across the table. "In that case, may the best wizard win."
Evie could feel the eyes on her. It took all her strength to calm down as she looked down at his hand.
Be brave. Be worthy.
She took in a steady breath and looked him in the eyes. "Naturally." Evie reached out and clamped her hand in his, energy snapping between them and coursing through her like lightning.
The game was on.
Thanks for reading! :)
