The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.
"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Harry as they watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.
"Because Moody turned his godson into a ferret." Bree answered, before Harry could.
"Snape is Malfoy's Godfather?" Ron asked.
"Yeah. It's interesting what you find out when bigoted purebloods owe you a debt." Bree replied.
The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.
"Been in the -"
"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk. Bree took a seat close to the door, she had long since decided that it was the safest spot during the first lesson of a new teacher. She took out her copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon she heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. She could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
The class returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.
Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "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?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.
Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time Bree had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile.
Ron looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled 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 the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till 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 be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.
"So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Moody demonstrated the three unforgivable curses on spiders. The Imperius Curse gave the user total control of the victim. The Cruciatus Curse caused unimaginable pain in the victim. The demonstration of this curse made Neville Longbottom very uncomfortable. The last curse was Avada Kedavra: The Killing curse, which killed the victim instantaneously.
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices –
"Did you see it twitch?"
"- and when he killed it – just like that!"
They were talking about the lesson as though it had been some sort of spectacular show.
"Sickos." Bree hissed as she passed by.
Bree found out after dinner that the twins were having trouble with Ludo Bagman. Apparently Bagman hadn't given them their winnings from the bet they made on the World Cup.
"Well you still have the money from Sirius right?" Bree said. The twins shook there heads.
"No. Bagman was holding onto all of the money during the game." Said George.
"So we haven't gotten anything." Fred finished.
"Ah, well tell Sirius. He'll probably help. He only made that bet to waste money. It upsets his Mother." Bree told them.
"Isn't his Mother dead?" the twins asked simultaneously.
"Yeah, but her portrait is spelled to the wall in the Black family home. They haven't found a way to get rid of it. Personally I think he enjoys yelling at it." Bree responded.
The next day Bree was accosted by Hermione. The bushy haired girl tried to get the blond to join her new organization S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.
"Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about nonwand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented. Two Sickles to join." Hermione explained.
Bree stared at Hermione incredulously.
"Hermione, I wouldn't join if it were free." Bree responded.
"Don't you care about their rights." Hermione replied.
"They don't want rights. They don't want wages." Bree hissed.
"Well they don't know any better do they! They been indoctrinated.
"Oh, for the love of god. Next you'll be telling me that you've joined Friends of the Ood. No wait founded, you've founded friends of he Ood!" Bree exclaimed accusingly.
Hermione looked confused. "What are Ood?" she inquired.
"They like the cousins of house elves, only taller and with tentacles." Bree explained. Hermione sighed and walked away.
147. House elves are not related to the Ood.
148. Hermione is not the founder of "Friends of the Ood."
Later that day Bree ran into Draco alone in the hall.
"I told father what you said." the boy sneered. "He said that you're to nice, to Gryffindor, to carry out your threat."
Bree frowned. "I suppose I behave nicely with my friends. But…" Bree grinned predatorily. "You are not my friend." she hissed. She grabbed Draco by the tie and forced him to look her in the eyes.
"You," she began with a growl, "are an enemy that owes me a debt. By extension, your father is as well. Tell him this about me. In regards to my enemies. I am not nice. I am not merciful. I do not forget and I do not forgive." And with that, Bree released Draco and left.
Everything was rather calm over the next couple of weeks. Bree was waiting until the students from the foreign schools came until she did anything. Though she wasn't just sitting idle, she was planning what she would do. Lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.
To everyone's surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.
"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.
Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. One by one the students did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel.
Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"
Harry bent his knees, preparing to jump. For a moment it looked like nothing else would happen then Harry both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping - the result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over
Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody.
"Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row. Once Harry could throw off the curse entirely it was Bree's turn.
"Imperio!"
It was the most wonderful feeling. Bree felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching her. And then something in the back of her head protested violently. No this wasn't right! Pain radiated out from the base of her skull the vague feeling went away, and Bree was suddenly well aware of everyone, especially Moody, looking at her.
"Good show there, Smith! You did even better than Potter!" he exclaimed. "Managed to shake it off the first time!"
"But I didn't." Bree thought. "Something else did it for me and it hurts!"
When class was dismissed, Bree, her head still hurting, headed straight for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey fussed over her, muttering about how the Headmaster never should have hired Moody. She cast a few diagnostic charms on Bree, then gasped.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Bree asked.
"Well it's" Madam Pomfrey began to explain then she paused for a moment, a dazed expression on her face. Then she smiled brightly and said "Why nothing's wrong dear. You've just been studying a bit to hard." She gave Bree a pain relieving potion and a note, then sent her to her next class.
Bree was very confused. Madam Pomfrey had gasped hadn't she? She had been about to explain something important and then… no. Madam Pomfrey hadn't gasped. She hadn't been about to explain anything.
Bree arrived at transfiguration just in time to hear Dean Thomas exclaim "We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!"
"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!" Professor McGonagall said.
Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.
Bree handed the note to Professor McGonagall, then spent the rest of the lesson trying to figure out a way to smuggle out the hedgehog she was supposed to be working on. She was rather against turning living things into inanimate objects. Even though McGonagall assured her that the animals didn't feel anything and were perfectly fine once the spell was reversed, Bree refused to participate until McGonagall allowed someone to turn her into a desk so that she could tell them for certain that it was not painful or traumatizing.
Professor Trelawney told Harry and Ron that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but they were less amused when she asked them to do the same thing for the month after next; both of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes.
Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked.
Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.
Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.
"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."
Hagrid's smile faded off his face.
"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."
The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.
When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM
BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY
"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.
"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"
"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."
She spoke as though this settled the matter.
"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.
"Yeah Ron. I mean, she likes you well enough." Bree said, then disappeared into the crowd before the statement had time to register.
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, the Triwizard Tournament.
Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves. The castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
On the morning of the thirtieth of October, the Great Hall had been decorated. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
Bree sat down next to Fred and George, who were sitting apart from everyone else. They were still having problems with Bagman.
"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione came "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked, sitting down next to them.
"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.
"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.
"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"
"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."
"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"
"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."
"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."
She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."
"What are you on about?" Ron asked.
"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
She had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.
"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.
Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them.
Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.
"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"
"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -"
"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Aries swooped in and sat next to Bree.
"Hermione you're doomed to fail. The house elves don't want to be free. You cannot save those that don't want to be saved." Bree stated as she petted Aries.
"Dobby wanted to be free." Hermione argued.
"Oh yes. Because a house elf that thinks stealing a boy's mail, stopping him from getting on the train to school, and breaking his arm in order to save his life is a good idea must represent the feelings and mindset of his brethren!" Bree exclaimed in an exaggerated show of sarcasm before storming out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."
Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.
"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front… no pushing…"
They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.
"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it," said Hermione.
"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.
"I don't think so… not from that far away…"
"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"
"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.
They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual.
And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.
"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.
"Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.
Dennis's guess was closer…
As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
The door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars). It opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. A shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman Bree had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.
Bree had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in her life, and that was Hagrid.
As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Bree, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime's horses, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.
"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.
"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
"Skrewts," Ron muttered.
"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job.
"Hagrid can handle anything."
"Zey are very strong…"
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.
"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.
"I don't think they'd arrive in the same manner. It is a different school after all." Bree said.
They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.
For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then - "Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly. Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor… What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool… and then Bree saw the rigging…
"It's a ship!" she whispered in awe.
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes.
Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle… but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Bree caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. It was Victor Krum.
So you're all probably wondering about what happened with Bree's reaction to the imperius curse, Madam Pomfrey acting as if something was wrong then forgetting, and Bree forgetting that Madam Pomfrey had acted worried. I'll tell you. It's a Doctor who crossover in the making. I wasn't planning on it until much, much later but I figured "Hey, I'm the author, I'll do want I want." The Doctor himself won't make an appearance for a while yet, but Bree will start to realize that what she thought was a t.v show is actually not.
Review please!
