A month of Hogwarts and learning passes Mallory by without so much of a second glance. Even as her sixteenth birthday came and went, with a few cards from Malfoy relatives and, of course, an annual letter from Lucius Malfoy along with a parade of extravagant gifts that arrived by a troupe of owls (which Mallory definitely knows is for show in front of other wizarding families attending Hogwarts), and Mallory realises that her fifth year is alike to any other. Apart from, of course, the looming arrivals that Hogwarts would soon be expecting, the only other interest Mallory took was in Transfiguration; which delighted McGonagall to no end, as she often told her during their weekly tutoring after dinner.

"What do your foster parents think of your interest in Transfiguration?" She asks one evening, whilst the two drink tea and eat chocolate biscuits, long forgetting the draconifors that Mallory had been struggling through for the past hour. Though, she wasn't sure what McGonagall would expect her to do with the small dragon that she requested Mallory to transfigure the snow globe into.

Mallory shrugs, dipping her biscuit into the tea and quickly shoving into her mouth to avoid answering.

"It's a useful skill, obviously," Mallory says reluctantly, once realising that despite her slow chewing, McGonagall still expects an answer.

"Yes, but I wonder sometimes if even you don't realise your full potential." McGonagall adds, staring at Mallory above the tops of her spectacles. Her pinched lips are tightly forming a small smile. "I don't buy this many biscuits merely because I enjoy your sarcasm and wit at times, Mallory."

"Best help myself to another, then." Mallory jokes, reaching forward for her third biscuit of the evening, hoping that it will distract McGonagall from Mallory's glowing red cheeks at receiving such a compliment from her favourite professor.

Despite working patiently through the remainder of her lessons, wondering just how bad it would be at home if she didn't receive the top grades in History of Magic, that the mundane repetition of her lessons is broken apart by the Triwizard Tournament. The evening previous had ended with Mallory and Amara pushing through crowds of second years to read a notice in the Slytherin Common Room which informed them that the delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive on 30th October, the night before Halloween. Which is now less than a week away.

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday 30th -

"No wonder McGonagall said we couldn't have another Transfiguration session this Friday!" Mallory interrupted Amara as she read the announcement. "Sneaky lady!"

Lessons will end half an hour early-

So, by the time that Amara and Mallory were waiting around outside of McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom on Friday 30th October, Mallory felt particularly gloomy that McGonagall hadn't even begun her lesson punctually, since they are still waiting outside of the classroom five minutes after it should have started.

"At this rate I won't get any Transfiguration until December!" Mallory groans loudly, alerting some Gryffindors around them as she whines. "The lady needs to learn about a thing called punctuality."

Whilst Mallory is only really speaking to Amara, who politely listens, her particularly sarcastic jibe about her favourite professor alerts a Gryffindor beside them, who rolls his eyes angrily at Mallory.

"What was that face for?" Amara barks suddenly, having noticed the reaction from the Gryffindor, whilst Mallory continues to mope after the closed door of the Transfiguration classroom.

"Her." Gryffindor boy, as Mallory calls him in her head, jerks his head in reply to Amara, in Mallory's direction.

"Her has a name." Amara continues, dissatisfied by his short reply and his attempt to turn his body away from them. "And she could transfigure away your crown jewels with a singular wave of her wand!"

"Amara!" Laughs Mallory in response, and her auburn-haired friend rounds on her now, causing Mallory to jump as if Amara's sharp tongue can cause damage. "You know," Mallory begins to whisper into Amara's ear now, fully conscious that other Gryffindors are staring after them. "I could probably ask McGonagall how to transfigure someone's crown jewels by-"

"Well, you're always acting as if you're the best at Transfiguration. Perhaps McGongall wouldn't like you so much if you knew you were complaining about her when she's not around."

"Well, if she'd open the door and let us in I'd probably complain all the same." Mallory replies quickly, moving around Amara as her temper is now tested in a different way. "I wish we'd had Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws again, at least then they'd be able to tell the difference between what is a joke and what is serious."

"Come in, all," McGonagall calls, opening the door with her magic as if she wanted to join in on Mallory's sarcastic comments as she calls them to the Gryffindor boy. But, with the class filing in, Mallory makes her way through the Gryffindors in order to get to her usual seat at the front of McGonagall's class. Even though Amara gloomily sits beside her, despite her preferred station being at the back of the classroom.

As McGonagall teaches, there's a definite feeling of anticipation resting in the air, as if everyone is willing to reach out and touch it. Mallory pays close attention to McGongall's teaching, though allows herself a few daydreams about half an hour's time when she realises that it's recapping transfiguring animals into water goblets, something she'd mastered in her first year. When the bell rings early, everyone is out of the classroom much quicker than Mallory, and even Amara forgets about her best friend, who stops to help McGonagall to tidy away some stray papers that had fallen to the floor.

"Let's walk, I can't be late to meet our delegates." McGongall gestures to the door of the classroom, where the students and staff have all disappeared from the corridors.

"It's quiet."

"That's because we're late." McGonagall quips with a smirk, holding her hat onto her head as they pick up their speed to a quick march.

"Do you think the students will fit in at Hogwarts?"

"I imagine it will be very different, Mallory." McGonagall replies after some thought.

Even as they round down a staircase, the portraits which are usually brimmed with people, have wandered around to different pictures in order to catch a glimpse of their visitors. "If they fit in will be entirely down to the students of Hogwarts, like yourself."

"But aren't we competing against them?"

McGongall bristles, catching her foot in a step for just a moment.

"Mallory," she scolds, shaking her head. "I would've thought you can see the power of networking and making acquaintances, as I am sure that there are not many wizards that Lucius Malfoy has not met before. Ah-" If McGonagall was going to add any more to her conversation with Mallory, she is quickly distracted by Gryffindor house, who are waiting at the entrance hall for their Head of House. Without a goodbye, McGonagall begins to survey her house ("Weasley, straighten your hat") as Mallory makes her own lonesome journey towards Slytherin house.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence, Black." Snape jives the moment that he sees the final pupil of his house arrive. "In line."

With his sharp words causing Mallory to jump, she quickly files herself into the middle of the mass of Slytherins, in order to not draw any more attention to herself. Snape, following McGonagall and the Gryffindors leads them outside, where Mallory ends up walking beside Pansy Parkinson, a friend of Draco's.

"I wonder how they're getting here?" Pansy bristles beside her, craning her neck to look over the top of the other students' heads in order to watch the same grounds that they have seen every other day at Hogwarts. Though, to Mallory's disappointment, they seem entirely as normal as they always have been.

The grounds are darkening as they stand, waiting for the arrival of the guests. Though Mallory had been centered in the Slytherins, she now realises she is on the outskirts, standing beside some Gryffindors, who watch her curiously. She always alerts those same kinds of looks, with a surname of Black. Pansy, beside her, doesn't say another word.

"Are they late?" Mallory asks no one in particular, watching the starry sky as if waiting for a swarm of people to burst from the sky in a portrait of fireworks.

"Making a grand gesture, more like." Someone replies, "Look!"

Her grey eyes dart around the grounds, trying to figure out what her new friend has spotted, but it isn't until she looks towards the dark forest that she finally sees something new. In the sky, above the tops of the trees now of the forest, in a bright contrast against the dark sky is a giant, powder-blue carriage soaring across the darkened sky. Being pulled by a dozen large, winged horses which begin to descend lower and lower, causing some students to move backwards as they made their descent towards the Hogwarts populus.

"Wicked." Says that same voice, finally causing Mallory to tear herself away from the sight of three first years falling over themselves to escape being crushed, to look at the person beside her who had been speaking. Perhaps she expected it deep down, but she's not surprised when she looks to her left and sees one of the Weasley twins smiling at her.

"Where's your shadow?"

Confusion showers across his face in waves of facial expressions; his eyebrows furrowing as ginger locks sweep across his blushing cheeks.

"Pardon?"

"I usually see two of you when one of you is around." Mallory replies, as if it is the most obvious answer in the world.

"Well, my shadow is…" The Weasley twin, with humour twinkling in his soft, brown eyes looks over the tops of fellow Gryffindor students, to see his twin standing beside their friend Lee Jordan. "There. Probably avoiding the Slytherin stench."

Mallory gasps and before she can help herself, she jokingly slaps the Weasley twin across the chest, causing him to laugh at her reaction and the two of them barely register when the powder-blue carriage doors open, revealing students dressed head to toe in blue, silky robes. As soon as the action is completed, she realises it's the same way she'd react if Blaise had made a joke at her expense like that. But this isn't Blaise beside her, which causes her suddenly to feel overwhelmingly conscious for acting so friendly with him.

"I'm joking." The twin replies, jokingly swatting the air as if she is about to hit him again. "You've clearly showered today."

"And here I thought you were the polite one." Mallory responds, rolling her eyes whilst still unable to pull away the smile that dances on her lips.

"I had no idea that either of us were ever known as polite." He folds his arms, smirking still at Mallory, who, blushing beneath his humoured gaze looks back at the carriage at the sound of startled gasps around them.

"Well, only one of you ever even speaks to me, the other clearly succumbs to the Slytherin stench." Mallory jokes, watching curiously as the largest lady she's ever seen exits the carriage, stooping a brown-haired head to exit.

Even with Hagrid beside her, she must surely still be the largest lady on Earth. The woman, upon walking serenely over towards Dumbledore, is dressed head to toe in black satin, with opals adorning her throat and fingers, causing Mallory to exclaim, "Now, that's a lady."

The Weasley twin, who Mallory hadn't noticed has been watching her curiously, now looks over to the centre of attention too as she smiles calmly at Dumbledore.

"My dear Madam Maxime," he says, bending down to kiss the lady's opal-covered fingers. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, 'one of us' only ever speaks to you?" Fred interrupts, breaking Mallory's waning attention from the large lady and Professor Dumbledore. "I think this is the first time I've heard you say more than two words."

"Maybe you're the aloof one after all, then." Mallory shrugs, enjoying the attention from this boy.

"I prefer to go by the name of Fred." He responds immediately, still smiling widely at Mallory.

"So, 'Fred'," now entirely bored of the conversation between Madam Maxime and Dumbledore that enthralls the students of Hogwarts, Mallory fully turns her body to look at the Weasley twin beside her, smiling at the sheepish grin that is across his face. "How do I know you're not really George?"

"Well, George has a birthmark on his bum, so you're more than welcome to check that I haven't got it."

Though he is clearly joking with her, Mallory chokes on a laugh at the suggestion, leaning her weight between her feet as if she is shuffling, trying to conjure a witty response from her footwork.

Fred thinks he has caught her too and that he has finally outwitted her too.

With Madam Maxime and Dumbledore now inside the Entrance Hall, Mallory pulls her arms around herself to entrap some warmth, whilst her thoughts race to find a witty response to Fred.

"The lake!" Yells another Gryffindor from the murmuring silence of the Hogwarts students. Now, Mallory looks to the lake too, as the disturbances below the surface of the water causes large ripples that wave across the entirety of the lake, building into waves as suddenly bubbles formed too as a long, black pole begins to rise slowly from the centre of the lake.

A slow, magnificent ship rises from the water, causing both Mallory and Fred to momentarily forget their derision of one another to gawp at the ship in its entirety.

"Amazing." Mallory gasps among the excited whispers between Hogwarts students and the loud splash of the anchor being dropped towards the bottom of the black lake. First, they see a man embark from the ship, wearing sleek, silver furs as he leads a whole band of fur-covered students.

"Dumbledore!" He calls heartily, and in that moment Mallory realises that Dumbledore and the giant lady have returned, waiting for the man with wide smiles. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replies.

"Karkaroff." Mallory mutters, repeating the name as she wonders where she had heard it before.

"Isn't he the head of the school that Draco's dad was going to send him to?" The sound of a new voice in her conversation causes Mallory to jump, turning now from Fred who frowns at the Slytherin behind her.

"Yeah, he says he might send Draco to Durmstrang." Mallory replies to Pansy, who frowns at the mention of this, causing her eyebrows to furrow into her green eyes. She wonders whether Pansy has listened to her whole exchange with Fred (or George).

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know," Mallory responds, exasperated. Lucius seems entirely more focussed upon Draco's quality of education to even care where Mallory goes. Though, Mallory wasn't going to go admitting that to Pansy Parkinson of all people. "I'd probably stay here."

Hoping this has satisfied Pansy enough, she mentally cheers when Pansy shrugs and turns away from Mallory to direct her attention to more of her friends in their house. Excitedly, Mallory turns back to Fred but, instead of being greeted by a smirking redhead, the place where Fred Weasley (or maybe he is actually George) had been standing now only holds empty space, separating Mallory from any other Gryffindors.

Though not entirely surprised that Fred had finally realised who he had been speaking to, Mallory found herself eager to find Amara once more. Or Blaise, if failing to find Amara.

It is only whilst pushing her way through a gang of green-tied Slytherins that Mallory discovers the gossip that has enraptured the Slytherins as students, from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang now begin to make their way inside.

"Did you see?" Asks Crabbe, one half of Draco's crew as she passes by Draco. "Viktor Krum is here!"

"Not the Viktor Krum?" Mallory gasps, feeling her mouth drop open in shock that a world-famous Seeker is actually at Hogwarts. "Good. He can show that Potter what good flying looks like."

This causes Crabbe, Goyle and even Draco to start laughing at the remark, causing Mallory to feel bolstered by the laughter at her own joke.

"Why do you never say things this funny when Potter can actually hear?" Draco, spurred on by Mallory's joke about his self-proclaimed enemy, laughs the loudest at her jokes and even wraps an arm around her shoulder, guiding her into the Great Hall, as if she now has a choice. Though she's not used to this side of Draco, it has often made an appearance over their lives together and his elbow is sharp and angled so that the inner bones of his arm dig into the back of her neck, not allowing her to enjoy a moment of Draco publicly acknowledging her.

"Because I don't make it my life's sole aim to piss off Potter and his motley crew, Draco." Mallory rolls her eyes, hoping this will slacken his arm around her shoulder. It doesn't. "But seriously, is Viktor Krum actually here? Or is this a wind up?"

"Look." Orders Draco, pointing lazily with the hand around her neck to point at the doorway, which they are now passing to reach the Slytherin table and Mallory squints, unable to distinguish one boy wearing fur to another.

"Can't see him," Mallory tells him after scanning the crowd twice. This causes Draco to sigh and drop his arm from around her shoulder, though still motions for her to sit beside him in the Great Hall. This surprises her, and clearly, surprises Blaise too, who takes a seat opposite to her whilst his eyebrows speak a conversation between them: what are you doing sitting here with him?

Draco, then, with the confidence of Lucius Malfoy and years of experience in watching him network with other wizards, beckons his right hand towards the Durmstrang group of students, who, upon seeing the confident Draco invite them to eat with him, walk confidently towards them, the swagger in their walk causing their furs to bounce in delight.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Draco stands, extending his hand to Viktor Krum who leads the group and he takes it roughly, so that their hands shake above the table.

"Viktor." He replies, and Mallory almost wants to giggle at his accent which reminds her that these students have travelled from who knows where. "You are?" Suddenly, Mallory is blushing as Viktor extends his hand now to Mallory, who suddenly feels voiceless.

"Mallory. My sister." Draco introduces her, and Mallory delicately takes Viktor Krum's hand, feeling herself blush under his gaze, contrasting against the dark curls which frame her face. "Well, she's my foster sister."

"Careful, you almost acknowledged me as family for a full two seconds." Mallory jokes, feeling the eyes of many of the Slytherins around her, who could have been gawping at Viktor Krum or the mere fact that Draco Malfoy acknowledged Mallory Black as someone other than a roommate at Malfoy Manor.

Draco bares his teeth in a grimace as Mallory causes other Slytherins to laugh awkwardly around them whilst Durmstrang students begin to filter themselves in between the Slytherin students.

"Mikael." Gruffs the student who settled himself beside Mallory, directing his name at Blaise who cooly responds with his own name in the same manner.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," says Dumbledore, who begins talking when a small silence overcomes the great hall. At this, Mikael smiles at Mallory. His hair, like Mallory's, is coiled in black curls and makes Mallory wonder if she'd fit in more easily at a school like Durmstrang, whilst Draco, with bleach blonde hair and pale, white skin, would probably stand out and be swallowed by the thick furs. "I have a great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Mallory feels herself shiver in excitement. "I now invite you all to eat, drink and make yourselves at home!"

Dumbledore returns to his seat and begins immediately chatting to Karkaroff, who exposes a row of yellowed teeth as he grins back at Dumbledore.

"Was it cold on that ship of yours?" Mallory asks as a sudden silenced lull overcomes the Slytherins at having to host the Durmstrang students.

"Nothing we aren't used to," answers the Durmstrang boy with black curls, Mikael. "There are days at Durmstrang where we only have three hours of sun. A couple of days below the sea on a ship is hardly anything new."

"You must be much further North than we are, then." Mallory answers and though she's only trying to make conversation, she sees the way that the Durmstrang students' necks stiffen as their shoulders rise, clearly uncomfortable discussing the location of their school, even if it's only presumed to be 'North'.

Rather than continue along that conversation, Mallory quickly picks up some familiar food (not wanting to step out from her comfort zone) that the Hogwarts house elves have made for this particularly important feast and changes the subject.

"Do you find it warmer here at Hogwarts, then?" She asks, as Mikael beside her just so happened to slip off his Durmstrang furs, to reveal long robes the colour of blood red.

"Much so, yes." He answers, folding the furs neatly in the space between the two of them. "At this time of year, usually we are seeing our breath as we breathe out."

"You should find a winter at Hogwarts pleasant for you, then." Blaise responds, breaking his usual dinner time silence since Mallory is in the vicinity to speak to. Crabbe gawps at him as if it's the first time he's heard his friend speak. "Try the spotted dick," Blaise gestures to the pudding before him, whilst Mikael stares curiously at the pudding with the ridiculous name. "It's especially delicious with a bit of custard."

Only Mallory notices the twinge in the corner of Blaise's mouth, laughing at his own inside joke.

By the time that the main feast is over, Mallory is still yet to catch sight of her auburn-haired best friend, Amara.

"Looking for someone?" Blaise asks, noting her curious reaction as soon as Mallory had finished eating.

"Amara. I haven't seen her since last period and that was hours ago, now." She answers, and almost begins to feel worried about her best friend until Blaise laughs.

"I'm surprised she's lasted this long since September before pulling one of her disappearing acts." He informs her once Mallory watches his humoured expression with curiosity. "What? Why are you acting worried? She's been doing this for as long as you've known her. Goes off gallivanting all by herself and then you're left wondering why you were ever worried in the first place, since she always comes back like nothing's ever happened."

"I suppose you're right. But still…" Whatever Mallory is about to add onto her conversation with Blaise, as concern for Amara still occupies the forefront of her mind, her sentence is cut off by Dumbledore standing once again; silencing the Great Hall in one swift stance.

"The moment has come." Dumbledore announces, with one of the largest smiles she's ever seen on his face. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemus Crouch, Head of the Department of International Co-Operation-" Following the actions of the rest of the hall, Mallory politely claps as a man with dark grey hair barely acknowledges that the hall is applauding him. "And Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." Now, Mallory claps knowing full-well who Mr Bagman is, since she had met him at the Quidditch World Cup along with Draco. Though, Lucius never seemed keen on the man.

"He's quite overrated, Mallory." Lucius had told her once he had left their vicinity. "Nasty gambling habit, I'm quite surprised he's remained in his current position, due to all of the eyes on the Ministry whilst we host the cup. It would be a shame if that secret became public knowledge."

Bagman in contrast to Crouch, waves and claps for himself as the Hall erupts in cheers for a former Quidditch beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and the England team.

"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch-" she watches as Crouch bristles at having been placed behind Bagman in the sentence, "have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime on the panel which will judge the champions' efforts."

As Dumbledore mentions the champions, the backs of the students straighten around Mallory, as Mikael and Viktor Krum share knowing smirks between one another and even Draco seems bolstered on by the quiet, subtle confidence of the Durmstrang students to smirk to only himself.

"The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch."

Filch holds a wooden chest which is adorned with different jewels, rather opposite to the crusty clothes that Filch is wearing.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," adds Dumbledore, smiling like a child at the casket in Filch's hands, as if buzzing from the electric excitement in the room. "And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

Mallory would've laughed, and she definitely feels the bubbling of a giggle building up in her throat as she becomes largely aware of the silence that has overcome the room, as if dust has fallen down from the enchanted ceiling and been breathed in by every attendant in the room.

"As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector… the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore withdraws his long wand, calmly tapping three times upon the top of the casket as still, the room remains enraptured by Dumbledore's actions and words. The lid creaks open with a sound that usually wouldn't be heard in a room as large, loud and bustling as the Great Hall. Dumbledore reaches inside and pulls out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. Though, Mallory's grey eyes seek out the colour, as the cup is home to dancing, blue-white flames. Dumbledore places the cup, or goblet, on top of the casket so that everyone can watch it clearly.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion-" again, Mallory felt the room rattle with excitement, "must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet," says Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all."

Slowly, as if reeling from the information, the Slytherins and Durmstrang students rise from the table, discussing their sleeping arrangements as Karkaroff storms towards them, causing Mallory to jump. She couldn't imagine Dumbledore storming over to his own students with such a thunderous look framed by furs and grey hair.

"Back to the ship, then," he says, rounding his students towards him. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

"Wine?" Whispers Mallory to herself in astonishment. She couldn't imagine Dumbledore, or even McGonagall who often had chocolate digestive biscuits in stock just for Mallory, offering her some wine, of age or not. Viktor, who is still tugging his furs back on, shakes his head as another boy, who had sat beside Pansy and Crabbe shoulders his way to face Karkaroff.

"Professor, I would like some wine," he says with a boyish grin, in an accent that causes his w's to sound more like v's.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snaps Karkaroff, "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy-"

Turning away, Mallory who had been holding in her laughter since the beginning of the meal snorts into Blaise's sleeve, causing the boy, Poliakoff to glare at her.

"It's probably not his fault." Mallory whispers to Blaise and the two follow closely behind the Durmstrang students. "Crabbe probably rubbed off on him."

Blaise laughs too, throwing his head back as Mallory snuggles closer into his arm, feeling the warming effects of her large meal beginning to cause her drowsiness.

"What's the hold up?" Blaise asks when, not a second later they pause at the door of the Great Hall, where no one seemed to be exiting.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," a familiar, growling voice says and Mallory quickly realises the reason for the hold up; for there they are, staring at the famous Harry Potter.

"You!" Wheeling round, Karkaroff, who is now slightly paler than before, stares at Moody, who stares unblinkingly back.

"Me... and unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."
"At least now I know Moody doesn't only instill that type of fear in his students." Mallory whispers to Blaise as they begin to move, as Karkaroff determinedly remains fixated on his current path, whilst Moody's blue, electric eye whizzes around, darting from Karkaroff, the Durmstrang students, to surveying the Hogwarts students who had been held up by the commotion.

Now able to move freely in the corridor, with her arm still securely fastened in Blaise's, they set their destination for the Slytherin common room, though, not before Moody had a warning of his own before bed.

"Watch that tongue of yours, Black."

31st October 1994

Though, in Mallory's opinion, Saturday's are a sacred day for sleeping in, her curiosity surrounding the Goblet of Fire meant that the moment she awoke, it was all that she could think about.

"And where were you last night, young lady?" Jokes Mallory as Amara exclaims that she's coming with her to scope out the Hogwarts champion before Mallory had a moment to leave without her.

"I was… around." She answers, looking towards the door as plenty of Slytherins leave the common room at the same time as the two girls. "Look, do we want to miss the moment our future Hogwarts champion enters their name into the Goblet of Fire, or not?"

"I heard Warrington entered his last night once all of the Slytherins had gone to bed."

"Warrington the Chaser?" Mallory asks, catching the end of Pansy's conversation with a couple of other Slytherins. "He put his name in?"

"Well, he said he did." Pansy answers, smirking as the keeper of the information.

"Imagine a Slytherin champion!" Amara exclaims, clutching onto Mallory's arm in excitement. "And imagine the look on old Dumbledore's face when he has to announce a Slytherin champion. A pureblood to boot!"

"Does blood really have to come into this?" Mallory asks, as the two girls begin to make their way up towards the Entrance Hall, which is one quick staircase from the dungeons.

"Blood comes into everything, Mallory." Amara says condescendingly, as if Mallory is a silly five year old, rather than a girl five months older than her. "I wonder if Cedric Diggory will put his name in, too?"

At the moment that the girls move around the crowd that assembles around the Goblet of Fire, a beautiful brown-haired Gryffindor crosses the glowing Age Line. With a smirk of arrogance that can only come from crossing Dumbledore's Age Line, she drops her name into the Goblet of Fire, beaming as the hall erupts into cheers.

"Johnson!"

"Yeah, go on Angelina!"

"Just imagine a Gryffindor champion," Blaise cuts in between Mallory and Amara, screwing his nose up as he watches Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor return to her giggling friends. "I'd rather drop out for the year."

"Could be worse," Mallory says without thinking, for her mind fills with imagining Fred Weasley, or whichever Weasley has been polite to her in the past, emerging as Hogwarts Champion of the Triwizard Tournament.

"What could be worse than that?" Asks Amara, pointing a not-so subtle finger towards Angelina Johnson now. Her group of friends scowl at Amara as Angelina purposefully flicks her black ponytail over her shoulder, ignoring them.

"Harry Potter," answers Mallory swiftly, knowing that, if Harry Potter emerges as Champion, Draco will be ready to pitch himself off the Astronomy Tower. "Draco would cry like a little baby."

Whatever Blaise and Amara thought of the imagery of weedy Harry Potter carrying a Hogwarts victory vanishes as laughter fills the Entrance Hall. Turning to the source of the sound, the Weasley twins emerge with their friend, an excited aura surrounding them.

Mallory easily picks out the friendly one now, because he always seems to have the wider smile, as he breaks into the group of Harry Potter and his band of friends, whispering excitedly.

"I wonder what's gotten them so excited?" Mallory wonders aloud, watching as the other twin, the ruder one, rubs his hands together in a show of excitement.

"Who cares, look, another Durmstrang entry."

Out of a group of five Durmstrang students, one boy is pushed forward, with a roguish grin he places his name into the Goblet and Mallory decides she'd rather him be the champion than Angelina, at least he seems a little shy about it.

"C'mon, then, I'll go first-" Mallory's attention is whipped away, watching as Fred (or George) emerges from the group, holding a piece of parchment in his hands and Mallory almost wishes she could stand beside him as the two twins jump across the Age Line.

For a moment, Mallory thinks they're successful and wonders, whether in fact, that the Weasley twins are two years above her in school before she's quickly proven wrong.

The boys emit yells of boyish excitement before a sizzling sound builds, as if coming from the Goblet of Fire itself. But no, it is the Age Line, the very same Age Line which they have crossed despite being only sixteen years old. In the same second, they are hurled across the room, landing onto the stone, cold floor with a loud, popping noise as the two suddenly sprout identical, white beards.

Mallory's laugh is first, watching as the two boys realise their dire mistake as the Entrance Hall copies her, echoing raucous laughter at the expense of the twins, who, once pulling themselves to their feet, begin to laugh too.

"I did warn you."

The Entrance Hall silences, where Dumbledore stands with an equal bear to match theirs, as if they are triplets, with an amused twinkle in his blue eyes.

"I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr Summer, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

With laughter still bubbling inside of her chest, even after the twins have disappeared and more Durmstrang, Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students enter their names, Mallory is unable to quieten her laughter.

"If you're going to laugh all day about a silly, old beard then I'm leaving." Amara warns, but as she watches the serious expression of her best friend, Mallory is still incapable of thinking about anything other than the bearded boys, letting out an illegal laugh at Amara's face. She's swift in her response, quickly rising to her feet with a short goodbye before it is only Blaise and Mallory that remain.

"It's different." Blaise tells her after a moment filled with only Mallory's quieting laughs.

"What is?"

"When you laugh at things, Mal, I know your laughs. That's a different one." He leans on his knees, watching the Goblet of Fire emit more successful puffs of smoke as parchment after parchment is submitted to the fire. "Most of the time you laugh with me and it's a soft giggle. Then you have a polite laugh reserved for Amara because you don't know whether to laugh or bash her for using slur words about muggle borns. Then, of course, you have your sadistic cackle like when Draco turned into a ferret." On cue, a laugh borne from her throat roars from her mouth at the memory. "But just then, that was a new laugh, like from deep inside your belly. It was warm, melting. It's nice to hear, even if a bunch of blood traitors created it for you."

"Why don't you try to cross the age line and we'll see what kind of laugh that will produce when you have a beard, Zabini." Mallory teases, pulling herself to her feet, suddenly thoroughly uncomfortable in this conversation with Blaise. Why did he have to notice anything at all? Has he been watching her yesterday and seen her conversation with one of the Weasley twins?

"Come on, I want waffles for breakfast." She says, offering her hand out as she pulls her tall friend to his feet too, hoping that the mention of his favourite breakfast food will distract his brain from his recent observations.

"Delicious," he says hungrily, taking larger and quicker steps now than Mallory so that she jumps to keep up with him.

All the while, smirking that her best friend is in fact, so very easily distracted.

During the Halloween feast, which isn't nearly as delightful as usual since the house elves had already impressed them with an extravagant feast the night before, Mallory watches the Head Table with fascination as Dumbledore seems to be determined to be the last person in the room to finish eating.

"Hope it's Warrington." Blaise tells Mallory, who, with impatience, taps her unused spoon for dessert against the Slytherin table.

"Hope it's anyone other than Angelina from Gryffindor." Adds Amara, who casts a dark glance with frosty blue eyes at the Gryffindor table, who, like the Slytherins, watch the Head table with excitement.

Just as Mallory is about to suppose that maybe that Angelina Johnson won't be such a bad champion to represent Hogwarts, the golden plates before them are cleared of their food. The hall quietens immediately. All eyes on the top table. He rises.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," says Dumbledore, Mallory glances at that very same Goblet, wondering when they'll know it's ready. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore retrieves his wand, sweeping a powerful hand across the room as the candles that flood the Great Hall with light are extinguished, so that now the room is lit with a soft glow, emitted from the pumpkins and the Goblet itself.

The flames inside the Goblet turn red just as Mallory feels that ever-same moment of boredom and she imagines her own face being emitted into the Great Hall.

Hogwarts Champion, Mallory Black.

The startled faces that no doubt would face her, Mallory Black, underage and champion. Imagine Draco's spiteful jealousy as her foster parents race to Hogwarts to demand that no, Mallory can't compete, she's just a girl. But, Professor McGonagall could argue that Mallory is not such an ordinary child and that she should compete. Flying seamlessly through the tasks as the confidence in her builds, not only from her fellow Hogwarts students and staff, but her family. Narcissa and Lucius finally, finally showing her a smile borne out of nothing else but pride. Narcissa insisting that Mallory is her favourite child and Lucius merely acknowledges her as something more than a child inside of his house. His child.

"The champion for Durmstrang-" Mikael, who sat beside her again this evening, straightens beside her as she is ripped from her daydream. No, Mallory will not be champion of Hogwarts. Though, wouldn't it be nice, she thinks, if she were.

"Will be Viktor Krum." Dumbledore holds the parchment high in the air as Viktor rises with boosted confidence, smirking at the adoring cheers from both students from his own school and the others.

"Bravo, Viktor. Knew you had it in you!" Karkaroff's cheer is the loudest of all, and he continues clapping for Viktor long after he has disappeared into the very same chamber that Dumbledore had gestured towards.

With eyes firmly back onto the Goblet of Fire, it performs the same tricks as before, flashing red as it spits out the second piece of parchment, Dumbledore catching both the parchment and the attention of the hall with the second name in his hand.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," he continues, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The movement around the tables causes Mallory to watch distracted, as a beautiful, silver-blonde girl rises from the Ravenclaw table, beaming from the admired cheers and claps, sweeping up the hall in between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables as if she glides.

When Fleur Delacour disappears too, the excitement of the room reaches its peak, where they wait with baited breath for the Hogwarts champion.

Red flames appear once more; spitting the final piece of parchment much higher into the air this time and Mallory wonders for a final time who the Hogwarts champion could be. Warrington? Angelina Johnson?

"The Hogwarts champion-" here goes. She waits for Dumbledore to read the name, pride beaming from his smile. "Is Cedric Diggory!"

She claps because now, she is Team Diggory, wanting Hogwarts to win far more than it being about a Hufflepuff and Blaise beside her claps much more politely than Amara, who seems genuinely excited as the handsome boy strides up the hall.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore calls happily, "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

"What?" As Amara cuts Dumbledore off with a whisper; for both Dumbledore and Amara realised at the very same time.

The Goblet of Fire is still very much alive, turning from blue to red flames once more as Mallory's breath hitches in her throat, wondering how that could happen.

Even if she expected it, she's still surprised when a forth parchment flies into Dumbledore's waiting hands. With the entire room waiting for the name because of course, there must be a name on that piece of parchment.

"Harry Potter."

Mallory brings her hands together, though it doesn't make sound and no one else bothers to even make the gestures of an applause. Her eyes automatically drift to Draco, who's mouth drops open in shock as his eyes search out Potter from the midst of the Gryffindor table.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore calls again, with McGonagall whispering fervently into his ear. What could she be saying? "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Torn between wanting to see Harry's reaction and wanting to figure out whether Dumbledore has solved this particular puzzle yet, her eyes drift to McGonagall, whose eyes are frantically searching the crowd too, presumably seeking out Harry. Her frown is clear, even from back at the Slytherin table and Mallory wonders, selfishly if, perhaps, she's not actually McGonagall's favourite.

"He's not even seventeen." Draco complains, pressing his face into his knuckles so that his cheek becomes mushed up to his eyes like a child's tantrum. "How did he do it?"

"Jammy git." Says Crabbe, shooting daggers as Harry Potter walks slowly up to the front of the hall.

"Bet he didn't even mean to enter," continues Draco as Dumbledore says something that only Harry can hear. "Bet he just wanted to prove he could get past Dumbledore. Potter can't find the right end of his wand unless mudblood Granger is there to point it out to him."

Mallory laughs; not from the slur that Draco uses, although maybe that's why everyone else politely chuckles along with him, but because she suddenly feels a sadistic rage directed towards Harry Potter. She hopes Potter fails somehow. Not badly, but just enough to embarrass himself.

"Off to bed." Dumbledore says to the Hall, his attention directed towards the chamber where Harry Potter has disappeared into. "After a no doubt… interesting evening for you all." And you too, Mallory thinks, remembering vividly the shocked expression of Dumbledore only moments ago.

His smile has vanished, no longer the cheerful host of Hogwarts. The Slytherins continue to mock Harry Potter all the way out of the Great Hall.

"Bet he hopes there's a round on faking Gryffindor bravery," says Draco, smirking viciously as the Slytherin group walks towards the staircase.

"A round on teacher's pet," continues Pansy, scowling at the thought of their Hogwarts champion.

"Extra points for being so far up his own arse, with blood traitors and mudblood friends to boot." Adds Goyle and it earns his a hearty, amused slap on the back from Crabbe.

"As long as he's judged on handing out autographs nobody asked for." Mallory adds. Laughter echoes her. "Plus a special, bonus-round on being unable to read signs without his glasses on."

Raucous laughter follows from her jokes and Mallory's face beams with pride; feeling the sense of belonging in this group of Slytherins, where even Amara and Blaise can laugh at the same jokes.

"Miss Black." The effect is immediate, though it's not an angry call of her name, Mallory jumps just the same. McGonagall, her favourite professor, and her mouth is set in a hard, cold line as she gestures for Mallory to come towards her.

Oooooh mock the Slytherins as she leaves their herd, suddenly very alone once more whilst no one takes a second glance back at her. Not Amara. Not Blaise. Not even Draco.

"Before you say anything, it was just a joke." Mallory excuses, immediately knowing that the reason for her favourite Professor needing to speak to her at this exact moment is only to do with her jokes about Potter, her favourite student. "No harm done on our surprise champion."

"Though I know from our time together, Mallory, that you enjoy the rib or two at others' expense," she begins, far from the kind words that she usually savours for Mallory. "I hadn't expected that when around your friends you could be so callous and apathetic."

"Apathetic?" Repeats Mallory, seeking reasoning from McGonagall.

"Cold, Mallory. It was cold." She informs her and though Mallory seeks for the Professor that she loves in her eyes, the one who gets biscuits in just for her, Professor McGonagall is now without her usual warmth. Ironic that she is calling her cold, Mallory realises. "There is a time and a place for mockery and right now I imagine Mr Potter will need the support of Hogwarts, since somehow he has been hoodwinked into this tournament."

"But Potter tricked the Goblet to get his name in." Mallory replies confident in her belief that the arrogant Harry Potter merely meant to get past Dumbledore's age line to prove that he could. He doesn't have the brains to realise the consequences of his actions. "Didn't he?"

"No, Mallory." McGonagall replies, lowering her voice to whisper the information that only this student could easily extract from her. "I don't believe he did."