Author's Note: Ah, listening to the Beatles Let it Be album while I write this…amazing. Not that that had anything to do with the actually story, or anything.
Thank you for the reviews. It is very good to be back.
Chapter Two – An Announcement:
Astoria followed Sara through the towering, oak front doors of the entrance hall, hastening to get out of the torrential rain.
"I'm so happy we didn't have to cross the lake again this year –" Sara was saying, and shrieked. Astoria barely had time to register something small and blue pelting towards her, before it collided with the floor in front of her and Sara's feet. It exploded and doused the bottom of her robe and shoes with icy water.
Melissa, not realizing Astoria had come to an abrupt halt, bumped her from behind. Astoria skidded across the stone floor but caught hold of Sara's arm before she could fall.
"Ouch!" said Sara.
"Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts!" cackled the colorful, squat man floating near the ceiling: Peeves the Poltergeist, "Wheeeeeeeeee!"' he dived toward their heads, aiming another water balloon.
"Watch out!" Melissa shrieked, ducking behind Astoria's back.
The other students in the entrance hall ran to get out of the way, slipping on the sodden floor. "I shall call the Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, authoritative and exasperated. Astoria had only just realized she was there. "I'm warning you Peeves –"
Peeves stuck out his tongue and threw the last balloon into the air. It splashed on a fifth-year's head and Peeves cackled, swooping away up the wide, marble stairwell and evidently thinking of more mischief.
"Well, move along, then!"' McGonagall barked to the crowd of students in the entrance hall and the others trying to press in through the doors and out of the rain. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"
Astoria let go of Sara and made her way across the hall, shoes slipping and sloshing with water. Sara and Melissa clung to each other for balance in case one should slip. They dodged the cursing fifth year, whose hair clung to his forehead from the water, and entered the Great Hall.
The Hall glowed with warmth, candlelight, and laughter. Above them the enchanted ceiling showed swirling purple clouds. Rain spattered and dripped down its slope.
"Urg!" Sara groaned, "my socks are all wet!"
So were Astoria's. She wiggled her toes and shook her feet, trying to disperse the water. In her mind she was calling Peeves all the ugly names she had ever learned.
Melissa stifled a giggle.
"There's nothing to laugh at," said Astoria. "You didn't get hit."
Melissa only laughed harder, pressing her hand to her mouth. Sara undid her shoes and inspected her gray and dripping socks.
"You don't know a spell that could help, do you?" she asked Astoria. "Any sort of drying charm, or something?"
"No," Astoria replied.
"Why don't they teach us anything useful here?" Sara grumbled.
"It isn't the teaching that's useful; it would be the absorption of those things taught," said a dreamy, floating voice behind them. Astoria whirled around and her eyes fell on a thin, willowy girl with protuberant silver eyes and straggly dirty-blond hair.
"Don't you think?" said Luna Lovegood, smiling faintly.
Luna Lovegood was largely known as a girl to avoid, and Astoria accordingly did so. She had no idea what had possessed the girl to come over. Then again, Luna Lovegood had never before needed a reason. In fact, reason had very little to do with her.
"Erm – yes," said Sara, smile faltering. "I suppose that's true."
"Did you notice how wet it is in the entrance hall?" Lovegood continued. "Someone might slip if they weren't watching."
Melissa stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle a giggle.
"I'm sorry," Lovegood added, looking from Sara to Astoria to Melissa, "was I interrupting? If I was, I can leave. I know people usually don't want me around."
"No, not at all," said Sara hastily. "You can sit with us if you'd like."
Astoria wildly began to think of some excuse – a reason that no, Luna Lovegood could not sit with them, but then Lovegood replied:
"Oh thank you, I appreciate your pity. But I don't mind sitting alone. It's easier to look at people that way."
"Oh, okay…" said Sara uncertainly as Lovegood drifted away. Astoria stifled a sigh of relief. She watched as Mark and Stephan came in through doors. Astoria and Stephan exchanged scowls but he and Mark continued passed where the girls were sitting, taking benches farther down the Ravenclaw table.
Astoria felt a mingling sense of relief that she and Stephan had not had another confrontation, as well as a triumphant pull in her chest because it had been Stephan to walk away – maybe she'd intimidated him.
"I think that's so sad," said Sara, staring after Luna Lovegood, who went to sit toward the end of the Ravenclaw table.
"What's sad?" said Astoria.
"That she thinks no one likes her," Sara continued, "maybe I will go sit with her –"
"No, don't," said Melissa, "the Sorting will be starting soon."
"Oh yeah," said Sara, brightening. "It'll be interesting to watch it from this end this year, won't it? Remember last year? I was so nervous."
"I thought I was going to faint. All those eyes," said Melissa, shuddering.
As if on cue the doors to the Great Hall clattered open and Professor McGonagall marched in, a trail of nervous, shivering, and dripping first-years in toe. Astoria watched them with an odd sense of nostalgia, also gratefulness that she was not now so tiny, or look quite so out-of-place.
The first-years lined up in front of the staff table, before them there was a three-legged stool, on which sat a familiar, battered old hat. Astoria had not been expecting the year before, but this time she was ready for when the large rip near the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and a song burst forth:
A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
The hat's voice was deep and crackly, like a warm fire. The line of first-years were staring in mute shock at it. The rest of the Hall had fallen respectfully silent.
Astoria could remember pointedly her own sorting: the sense of anticipation and nervousness. But she had also had at the time a feeling of certainty, because surely she would be sorted into Slytherin.
Her whole family had been in Slytherin. There was no other choice.
Astoria adjusted her Ravenclaw blue and bronze tie and wondered for the lack of disappointment she felt. Perhaps she had finally gotten over the divide of feeling horribly upset she hadn't gotten Slytherin and begun to feel truly like she belonged in Ravenclaw.
The Hat was finishing up:
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!
"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," said Professor McGonagall, when the rest of the students had finished applauding the end of the song. "When the hat announces your house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."
She straightened out the scroll of first-years' names with a flick of her wrist and called, "Ackerley, Stewart!"
The Sorting proceeded. Astoria wondered that it had not felt nearly this boring when it had been she waiting her turn. She watched as each first-year came forward and put the hat over their heads. She wondered if similar expressions had flitted across her own face: shock at hearing the hat's voice in her ear, excitement as it rattled off which house she might be suited, disappointed when it called out the one she had not expected…or perhaps she wasn't quite so transparent. Astoria liked to think so.
When the last first-year had run to the Hufflepuff table the Sorting Hat and stool were carried away and Professor Dumbledore – his long silver beard flowing down his front and his half-moon glasses resting on his crooked nose – stood and gave the assembled students a kindly smile, "I have only two words to say to you: Tuck in."
Sara laughed at Astoria's side and then cried in delight as the empty dishes filled with mound of food. Astoria wondered if, being a Muggle-born, the novelty of magic ever truly wore off.
"I can't believe we're back," said Sara, biting into a drumstick with one hand and scooping a lump of mashed potatoes onto her plate with the other. "Summer seemed to have passed so quickly."
"I'm happy to be back," said Melissa. "You know, besides the fact that we actually have to start school again."
"Did either of you notice the Defense Professor is missing?" Astoria asked, having glance at the Staff table and just realized the missing seat. "I wonder if Dumbledore hasn't found one yet."
"You're right," said Sara, looking over to the Staff Table herself. "He'd better find one by tomorrow."
"Maybe we just won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," said Melissa hopefully.
"I'm still sad Professor Lupin won't be back," said Sara.
Astoria did not reply. Professor Lupin's departure was a touchy subject between Astoria and Sara. Professor Lupin was a werewolf, it was obvious he should not be living amongst healthy wizards, let alone be teaching their innocent children. Apparently Sara did not understand such views.
But she wished he wasn't a werewolf, if it only meant he might be able to return to teach.
Astoria had not realized how hungry she was before she began to eat. She, Sara, and Melissa talked and laughed with the rest of the students, the Hall buzzing with the sound of joyful chatter and clink of cutlery. The platters of food were steadily eaten away. Desserts appeared and were similarly consumed. Then the plates were swept gold and glittering, immaculate as they had been when the students had arrived.
Headmaster Dumbledore once again stood to his feet. The Hall quieted. All Astoria could hear was the storm beating against the walls of the castle and the heavy rain pattering on the roof. A crack of lightning illuminated the ceiling for a fraction of a second.
Dumbledore began, "So, now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."
Astoria leaned back in her bench and laid her hands on her stomach, wishing she hadn't eaten quite so fast or quite so quickly.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs," Dumbledore continued. "The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
Astoria had most likely heard all of this before. She pondered in a corner of her mind just what Mr. Filch – the withering, unpleasant old caretaker, usually accompanied by his dusty and wraithlike cat – would do to someone should he find them in the possession of a Fanged Frisbee.
Headmaster Dumbledore caught Astoria's attention again when he said, "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
Astoria remembered that Mark Clearwater, Stephan's friend, would no doubt be terribly disappointed. It was Ravenclaw first-year common knowledge that Mark Clearwater would someday be the youngest Chaser on England's national team. Then Astoria remembered that she didn't talk to Mark anymore, because she didn't talk to Stephan anymore.
Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet the mutterings of outrage that had met his announcement, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"
There was an enormous clap of thunder and the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open with a resounding clang. Sara gasped in alarm. Astoria whirled in her seat to see what had happened.
Standing in the open doorway, illuminated by a flash of lightning, stood the hulking silhouette of a man. He wore a long, hefty cloak and carried a stump of a walking stick in his right hand.
The man walked through the doors with a thumping limp, apparently undeterred by the sensation he had created. Astoria gaped at him as the man stumped passed her. She heard a dull thump as he walked, and wondered if perhaps his cloak hid a false leg. His face was hidden in the shadows of the storm bathed night and flickering candled, but she could tell he was scowling. She felt a shiver run up her spine, something that told her he was watching her. He was watching everyone, ready to pounce should one of them make a false move.
When the man reached the staff table he turned to face the students and a flash of lightning cast his face into sharp relief. Sara gasped again. Astoria felt her stomach clench.
The man's face was so twisted and defaced with scars one could hardly call it a face at all. A large chunk of his nose was missing and his mouth was reduced to a frowning, misshapen slit. But the most horrifying thing about his face were his eyes. One was sharp and beady and the other a stunning blue, perfectly round and rotating continuously in its socket. First it looked to the right, then to the left, then it turned white as it stared out from the back of the man's head. Astoria immediately realized it had been that eye that had created the sense of being watched, and as well felt a rush of recognition wash over her.
She had never seen him before but often heard of him. Surely it could not be anyone else –
"Moody!" she hissed to Sara. "It's Mad-Eye Moody!"
The stranger turned around to face Dumbledore and stuck his hand out across the table. Dumbledore somberly took the man's hand in his own. The man then ambled behind the Staff Table and sat down at the empty seat directly beside the Headmaster. The empty Defense Professor's chair.
"Who?" whispered Sara back to Astoria. Astoria had almost forgotten she'd even said anything; she was so perplexed and taken aback at the man's appearance.
"Moody," she whispered back to Sara. Somehow whispering just felt more appropriate. A stunned, tense hush had descended on the hall. "He's an ex-Auror –"
"What's an Auror?" Sara interrupted.
"He's that nutter who's always imagining Dark Lords attacking him," said someone across the table.
"But what's an Auror?" Sara insisted.
"Dark wizard catcher," Astoria explained, speaking from the corner of her mouth as she stared at the man sitting at the Staff Table. He speared a sausage with a knife, sniffed at it with his mutilated nose, and stuffed it into his mouth.
"I wonder what he's doing here," said Sara.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore's voice, cheerful, almost apologetic to break the pressing silence. "Professor Moody."
Astoria felt her lower jaw fall. First a werewolf, now this? A paranoid, crazy old codger whom had once blasted the hand off a delivery boy who'd forgotten to ring the bell? Or at least that was what the rumors told.
No one applauded Moody's admission to the Hogwart's staff except for Headmaster Dumbledore and the groundskeeper Hagrid, a monster of a man with a tangle of black hair and beard covering half his body. The sound echoed depressingly off the walls of the Hall and dispersed into the claps of thunder.
"As I was saying," began Dumbledore afresh, as if there had been no interruption, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century." In the fragment of a second it took the words to fall from Dumbledore's lips Astoria remembered what Theodore Nott had been talking about in the wood after the Cup. She forgot about Mad-Eye Moody. Her hand clenched in a wild throw of anticipation.
"It is my great pleasure to inform you," said Dumbledore, "that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
There was a moment of tangible silence in which it took for the tension to break and a boy from the Gryffindor table exclaimed, "You're JOKING!"
Laughter exploded throughout the Hall, lingering for longer than usual as shock and alarm at Mad-Eye Moody's unexpected appearance spilled away. Astoria felt her chest shake with laughter of her own. Excitement was making it difficult to think. She had heard about the Triwizard Tournament many times before, it was a thing of legend.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,"' Dumbledore said with a smile when the laughter had dissipated enough to hear, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar …."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and Headmaster Dumbledore abruptly remembered himself, "Er – but maybe this is not the time…no…. Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and will allow their attention to wander freely."
Astoria did not wonder if Dumbledore was serious about letting her attention wander or not. Her mind had already taken to flights of fancy. She saw herself holding a glowing, glorified trophy, rising in front of crowd, whom cheered her name –
"Did he say death toll?" Sara hissed.
Astoria shook herself out of her daydreams and whispered back, "It doesn't matter. It's perfectly safe now, I'm sure." Astoria was not concerned over deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will himself or herself in mortal danger."
"See?" said Astoria, "perfectly safe."
"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand galleons personal prize money."
In the corner of her eye Astoria saw Mark and Stephan exchange eager looks. As if Stephan could ever win…. Astoria visualized herself again, rising singly and above the rest of the students at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore's voice cut through sharply and cruelly, shattering fantasies, "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen or older – will be aloud to put forward their names for consideration."
Shouts of outrage began to rise from the students. Astoria felt disappointed pierce and burst the glimmering pictures of glory and riches, the trophy raised above her head –
Dumbledore raised his voice to be heard above the students, "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precaution we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waist your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."
Astoria again saw Mark and Stephan looking at each other and thought spitefully that they were no doubt considering that Dumbledore couldn't possibly put any restrictions or charms that they couldn't get around.
Dumbledore said a few remaining words to them about the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and the expected whole-hearted support of the Hogwarts champion. He then dismissed them to bed.
Astoria stood from the table wit Sara and Melissa and began to make her way through all the other students who had all gotten up at the same time. She passed a group of tiny, frightened looking first-years, waiting for the instruction from a Prefect. She felt wonderful advised and sophisticated as she watched them.
"I don't quite understand," said Sara when they finally broke free of the crowd well enough so that they could breathe. "this Triwizard Tournament is really famous right? Like both of you have heard about it?"
"Of course," said Astoria. "There are tons of stories told about it."
"But why did they choose this particular year to bring it back?" said Sara.
"Who cares?" said Melissa, practically squealing with excitement. "This is so brilliant."
"I wonder who's going to be Hogwarts champion," said Astoria.
"And these two other schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Sara continued, "they're magical schools, too?"
"Yeah, haven't you heard of them before?" said Astoria.
"Erm – no," said Sara. "I've never really thought about other magical schools before. But now that I do think about it, I guess it makes sense."
"Yeah, they're all over the place actually. There are different spells and such for different ethnic groups," said Melissa, demonstrating a rare occurrence when she volunteered information without any prompting.
"It stinks that we're all too young to enter," said Astoria.
Sara shrugged, "Like Headmaster Dumbledore said, the magic would probably be too advanced for us."
"Yeah, but still," Astoria insisted. "It stinks. I wouldn't mind a bit of that glory and riches."
Melissa shuddered. "I don't mind at all. It sounds dangerous."
They reached the alcove of the Ravenclaw tower stairs, turned off of the corridor and began to climb.
"I wonder what the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be like?" said Sara.
Melissa shrugged, "Probably a lot like us."
"Mum considered sending Daphne and I to Beauxbatons," said Astoria. "It's the most prominent western Europe magical academy, almost better than Hogwarts." And Beauxbatons did not have Dumbledore for a headmaster, which meant there would be no werewolves or paranoid ex-Aurors teaching classes. But Astoria left that part off.
"Really?" Sara said, then smiled "Well I'm glad she decided to send you here."
Melissa panted, "I'd forgotten how much of a drag these stairs are."
They were half-way up the tower and Astoria felt her calves burn.
"I hope Hogwarts champion is a Ravenclaw," said Sara.
"Yeah – me too," said Melissa, in between trying to catch her breath.
"Who do you think will enter?" said Astoria. They reached the landing in front of the Ravenclaw common room door. Astoria let the knocker hanging from the bronze eagle's talons fall against the wood.
"My brother probably will," said Melissa, sounding curiously unhappy. "Even though he'll technically be too young, I bet he tries to get around Dumbledore's enchantments."
"Don't worry, Melissa," said Sara as the eagle asked them a riddle in its chirping, musical voice. "I'm sure Dumbledore's good enough to stop him."
They answered the riddle and the door swung open to admit them.
"Wouldn't you want him to get in, though?" said Astoria, "What if he won?"
Melissa frowned. "I'd rather have him safe."
They cross the common room; it was unusually crowded with students up late to discuss the news of the Tournament. They climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories and found the right door, now marked with the lettering: second years.
They entered the dormitory to find the two other girls who shared the dorm already present, Aurora Shaning and Tiffany Lanesingly. Astoria greeted the two girls and then starting preparing for bed.
Her mind was moving too quickly to sleep. The other girls climbed into their four-posters and Astoria lay back in her own, listening to their whispering through her curtains. She thought of Dumbledore's announcements, of Mad-Eye Moody's induction to the Hogwarts staff and the Triwizard Tournament – but mostly about the Triwizard Tournament. She fell asleep with visions of glory, the feel of the trophies handle clutched in her hand, and the sound of the people's voices in her ears, as they chanted her name.