A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.
•~0~•
On the morning of October 17, Genevieve woke up quite like she normally did, got ready for the day quite like she normally did, and walked into the common room on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast, just as she normally did. She wasn't expecting, however, to be ambushed upon her arrival in the common room.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" the twins, Lee, and Katie shouted, causing her to stumble back, trip, and twist her other ankle.
In the hospital wing, as all of this was still happening before the beginning of school, they crowded around her.
"Er - sorry about that," George said.
"We didn't think you'd be that surprised," said Fred.
"You didn't think I'd be surprised to have a horde of people jump out and scream at me?" Genevieve asked doubtfully. "Why'd you do anything this year anyway?"
Genevieve didn't usually celebrate her birthdays; she didn't see the point. "It's just another day, another year that I've lived life, what's the big deal?" she'd always said.
They looked at her as though she'd sprouted two heads.
"You're of age now!" Lee stated as though it were obvious.
"An adult wizard," Katie said. "You can use magic whenever you like now . . ."
"And you can enter in the Triwizard Tournament," George said enthusiastically.
Genevieve snorted. "I just twisted my ankle walking to the Great Hall; what makes you think I'm not going to kill myself in the tournament anyway?"
"Fair point," Fred agreed.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey strode up, muttering about irresponsible teenagers and their carelessness, cleared Genevieve to go, and shooed them off to class.
•~0~•
In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Moody was taking a rather illegal approach to helping the students fight the Imperius Curse. He announced that he'd be placing each of them under the curse to truly show them how powerful it was and to see if they could resist it.
Genevieve learned, to great amusement, that Lee could sing nursery rhymes brilliantly. Alicia Spinnet did quite a bit of exercise, jumping from desk to desk. Fred made himself extremely dizzy, spinning like a tornado across the room.
Finally, Moody growled, "Snow. Come up here."
With anxiety reminiscent of being Sorted, Genevieve walked into the cleared space. Moody pointed his wand at her and muttered, "Imperio!"
Immediately, she felt every worry, every fear, every thought wash away as though it'd never been there at all. It was probably the most relaxed she'd been in her entire life.
Moody's voice, echoing inside her head, instructed: Hop around the room . . . hop around the room . . .
Genevieve crouched down, getting ready.
Hop around the room . . .
But wait. A voice in her head spoke up out of nowhere. Why should I? I'm not a bunny.
Hop around the room . . .
I think I'd rather not, the voice said. I'd really prefer not to . . . Yeah, it said with a little more conviction . . . I'm not going to do it . . .
Hop! NOW!
The next thing Genevieve knew, she was sprawled out on the floor, one hand wrapped tightly around the other, which was pulsing with pain. One glance down told her a finger was bent in a way it really, really shouldn't. She'd crouched so long, voices fighting in her head, that when, she'd at last attempted to hop, all that happened was that she shot forward into the ground in front of her.
"Now, that's more like it!" Moody said excitedly. "Snow put up one hell of a fight! Very good, Snow!"
"Er - sir?" She asked, unable to stand it any longer. She held up her finger, which was now purple. "May I go to the hospital wing?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said distractedly. "But be ready to learn how to throw it off when you get back!"
Madam Pomfrey simply shook her head, ushering her in. "Good birthday you're having, is it?"
•~0~•
An announcement was posted in the entrance hall, reading:
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 —
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.
This reignited conversations about the Triwizard Tournament and, for Fred, George, and Lee, how to enter underage. It all depended on the impartial judge, and they would have to tweak their methods according on who, or what, it was.
In Transfiguration, George even had the nerve to ask McGonagall.
"Professor?" he asked innocently. "How are the champions for the tournament chosen?"
"If I were you, Weasley, I'd shut up and get on with Transfiguring your raccoon. Look at Genevieve - she's already finished."
The morning the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were set to arrive, Genevieve, George, and Fred were huddled away from the rest of the Gryffindor table, talking quietly. They'd finally filled her in on the fact that Bagman had paid them for the bet with leprechaun gold, which, of course, disappears, and were trying to figure out a way to get their money from him.
"It's a bummer, all right," George said. "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 in his hand. He can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked, sitting down in the middle of their conversation.
"Wish you were," Fred retorted.
"What's a bummer?"
"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," George answered.
They spent a while speculating about the Triwizard Tournament, which Genevieve paid no mind to, before Hermione said, rather loudly:
"House-elves! Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"
Genevieve shook her head. The twins had also refused to buy a badge, though Hermione had intimidated some people into joining.
George tried to reason with her. "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"
"No, of course not. I hardly think students are supposed to - "
"Well, we have," he gestured to himself, Fred, and Genevieve, who waved sheepishly, "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!"
Luckily, at that moment, the owls swooped in to deliver letters, cutting her off. Harry beckoned Genevieve over to them, and whispered out a letter from Sirius.
Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.
Sirius
"What'd you do?" Genevieve asked.
"He tried to convince Sirius that his scar never hurt, and he'd just imagined it," Hermione said.
"That was stupid."
Ron decided to change the subject. "Why d'you have to keep changing owls?"
"Because Hedwig will attract too much attention," Genevieve said.
Hermione explained. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding. . . I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"
Hedwig, meanwhile, flew back to the Owlery, exhausted from the several long trips she'd taken with little rest in between.
•~0~•
Genevieve sat outside for Care of Magical Creatures, quite possibly the only student paying attention, as many were distracted by the imminent arrival of student from other schools.
Hagrid grinned at them all.
"I've decided ter give yeh a break from Blast-Ended Skrewts fer today," he said. "Just follow me . . ."
He led them into the Forbidden Forest, what looked to be half a dead cow over his shoulder. "Righ'," he said. "Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em. Let's go . . ."
They walked for about ten more minutes before they reached a part of the forest where it was next to impossible to see; the trees were so thick nearly no light could get through.
"Gather roun', gather roun'. Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me . . ."
He tilted his head back and gave an odd sounding, shrieking sort of cry, then repeated it. Then, white, blank, shining eyes peeked through the trees, and the rest of the body followed, black, winged, and skeletal. Genevieve gave a shudder. Thestrals.
They began to eat the meat, which Hagrid had flung on the ground before calling them. She looked around; the majority of the class was still searching. They couldn't see them.
"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Now . . . put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"
Genevieve and one other boy, a Slytherin, raised their hands. Everyone else stared blankly, confused.
"Yes, Genevieve, yeh told me abou' yer grandfather, and -"
He was interrupted by another Slytherin, who was giving Hagrid a skeptical expression.
"Excuse me, what are we supposed to be seeing?"
Hagrid pointed at the meat, which was nearly gone; the thestrals were ripping the remains into pieces and eating them. Several people gasped in shock. All they could see were bits of cow disappearing into thin air.
"What's doing it?" Angelina asked.
"Thestrals," Hagrid replied, a hint of pride in his voice. Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. They're dead clever an' useful, too. Mainly, they jus' pull the Hogwarts carriages, though.
"Now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"
Genevieve raised her hand. "The only people who can see thestrals are people who've seen death."
"Yeh're exactly righ'," Hagrid said, a serious look on his face. "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, these thestrals started out as just a male an' five females. This one," he patted one of the thestrals, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the forest. They also have 'mazin senses o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go.
"Right, well, we have a bit o' extra time, and this lot seems gentle today, so I reckon yeh could come up an' pat 'em. Genevieve, since yeh can see 'em, why don' yeh go firs'?"
Tentatively, Genevieve walked up to one of the thestrals. She patted its shining neck, and it lowered its head gently. It was rather beautiful, up close. Thestrals, she decided, weren't so bad after all.
•~0~•
Half an hour later, Genevieve stood rigid in a line, where a slightly tense Professor McGonagall admonished some students for their appearance.
"Follow me, please," she said. "First years in the front . . . no pushing . . ."
They moved their lines carefully in front of the castle.
"I wonder how they're coming," Genevieve said offhandedly to the twins.
"Aha!" Dumbledore proclaimed from where he stood with the other teachers. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" Students asked curiously.
"There!" shouted a student in her row.
Something, Genevieve couldn't tell what, was soaring in the air toward them. As it got closer, she saw that it was a huge, blue, horse-drawn carriage, pulled by a dozen of the largest winged horses she'd ever seen.
It landed. Out of it stepped the largest woman Genevieve had ever seen, roughly the same size as Hagrid. Dumbledore, followed by the students, clapped. She walked up to him.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said, kissing her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dorr," the woman greeted warmly. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you."
"My pupils." She gestured to the small group of students behind her, all about Genevieve's age.
" 'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"
"He should be here any moment. 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. But ze 'orses - "
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
Genevieve smiled slightly. Hagrid had muttered something to her earlier about the skrewts giving him a bit of trouble.
"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling. Zey are very strong . . ."
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job."
"Very well. Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to."
"Come," Madame Maxime beckoned her students.
Now they waited for Durmstrang to arrive. Suddenly, Lee shouted, "The lake! Look at the lake!"
Out of nowhere, a whirlpool had formed in the lake, and a ship rose out of it. Somebody threw an anchor down, and a plank was placed going from the ship to the bank. Large, burly students, wearing cloaks of fur, climbed off. Another man, with fur matching his hair, called out to Dumbledore.
"How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."
The man looked up at the castle, smiling insincerely. "Dear old Hogwarts. 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 . . ."
Genevieve gaped as one of the students stepped forward. "Is that - "
"It can't be," breathed George.
"Viktor Krum!" Fred said.
As they went back inside, the group was still voicing disbelief that one of the most famous Quidditch players in existence was at Hogwarts. The Beauxbatons students were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, while Durmstrang occupied the Slytherin table. Dumbledore gave a short speech.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all the Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially open at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
As she ate, Genevieve looked around. The Beauxbatons students seemed to turn their noses up at Hogwarts, while Durmstrang was marveling at the castle. Suddenly, Genevieve elbowed the twins.
"You've got an opportunity."
They looked over at the staff table; Bagman and Crouch had just sat down. Dumbledore stood back up as the students finished eating.
"The moment has come. 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 that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was applause, though admittedly much more for Bagman than Crouch, although Genevieve and the twins didn't extend him that courtesy.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch brought out a large ancient wooden chest decorated with jewels.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout 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. 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 in 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 rapped three times with his wand on the casket. It opened. He pulled out a large wooden cup full of blue-white flames.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put your 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."
Fred and George exchanged smirks.
"Finally, I wish to impress 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 a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
"An Age Line!" Fred scoffed as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"
"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione said, "we just haven't learned enough . . ."
"Speak for yourself," George retorted. "You'll try to get in, won't you, Harry?"
The younger boy didn't reply.
"I certainly don't recommend it," Genevieve commented. "And I wouldn't be so sure an Aging Potion is enough to fool a line drawn by Dumbledore himself. He's the greatest wizard alive."
The twins shrugged. "What've we got to lose?"
•~0~•
"Are you sure you want to try this?" Genevieve asked warily.
Fred, George, and Lee looked at each other, then each put a drop in their mouth. She shook her head, but stepped out of the way and allowed them to scurry over to Ron, Hermione, and Genevieve.
"Done it," Fred told them. "Just taken it."
"What?" Ron asked.
"The Aging Potion, dung brains."
"One drop each. We only need to be a few months older," George said.
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee was positively beaming.
"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione cautioned. "I'm sure Dumbledore would have thought of this."
""That's what I said," Genevieve sighed, exasperated, standing beside the three fourth years. Fred, George, and Lee ignored the both of them.
"Ready?" Fred asked the other two. "C'mon, then - I'll go first - "
Everybody watched with bated breath as he walked over to the line . . . and stepped across it. George crossed after him. It looked for a moment as though it had worked, but then the two were ejected back, and sprouted beards.
"I tried," Genevieve said, raising her hands up in surrender and laughing. "Honestly, I can't decide if they look better that way."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughed.
Dumbledore looked very amused. "I did warn you. I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."
They departed with a choking-on-laughter Lee, and Genevieve only hesitated slightly before going in to breakfast with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
"Food is more important than their idiocy," she decided.
She sat down near Katie, just in time to see Angelina coming back in.
"Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"
"Oh I hope it's her," Genevieve said to Katie.
Katie looked at her in surprise.
"What? Just because we're not close doesn't mean I don't want a Gryffindor champion. Besides," she admitted. "I suppose she's alright."
Katie laughed.
•~0~•
They ate in anticipation, speculating about who the Hogwarts champion would be. As they finished eating, Dumbledore rose.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. 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 the first instructions."
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore extinguished all the candles except for the ones inside the carved pumpkins. Everyone's eyes were on the goblet.
"Any second," Lee whispered.
As though in cue, the goblet's flames turned red and spit out a slightly burnt piece of parchment, which Dumbledore caught.
"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."
The Hall was consumed in applause as Krum stood up and walked into the chamber.
The flames changed color yet again and out flew another bit of parchment.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
Fleur walked into the chamber. All they were waiting on now was the Hogwarts champion.
Finally, its flames turned red once more and out came the last piece. Genevieve didn't breathe.
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table was a sea of clapping hands as Cedric joined the other champions.
"Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count about 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 champions on, you will contribute in a very real - "
They never heard the end of that sentence, for as he was speaking, the goblet turned red again and shot out another name.
Silence. Then . . .
"Harry Potter."