Chapter Two-
Sirius remained at the forefront of Tempest's mind for the next couple of weeks. She kept an eye on the Daily Prophet, knowing if the Wizarding World had any hint of Sirius's whereabouts, his name would be plastered all over the headlines. She had not received a reply from him, but she could only be grateful that no-one had sighted him yet.
Hogwarts was doing it's best to keep her occupied in the meanwhile. There was a significant increase in workload from all of her subjects, which led to a prioritization of her subjects and her grades in Astronomy, History of Magic, Herbology and Divination taking a dive.
Transfiguration, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms she managed to stay on top of, while Defense Against the Dark Arts continued to be…
There was no mistaking that Professor Moody knew what he was talking about. His lessons were engaging and informative, he could hold the entire class spellbound. Tempest found herself enjoying his classes as much as she did Charms or Transfiguration. If she could tamp down on the sense of wrongness that permeated the air whenever she was around him. It was nothing like what she had felt around Quirrell, and she tried to ignore it. It was likely a side effect of having been around so much dark magic, and Tempest could hardly hold that against the man.
It didn't make being around him easy though.
It certainly didn't help when Moody had lessons where he was actively cursing the class, to see if they could resist the effects.
"But- but you said it's illegal to use the Imperius Curse, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said- to use it against another human was-"
"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way- when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely- fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."
He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Tempest watched queasily as, one by one, her classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.
"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."
Tempest battered down the squirming of her gut and moved into the space cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Tempest, and said, "Imperio!"
It was delightful. Tempest was surrounded by clouds, floating blissfully. She hadn't noticed how tense and stressed she had been till her mind was wiped clean. She felt… happy. Happy in a very vague, contented way. She was only dimly aware of the class standing around and watching her.
And then she heard Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her brain: Jump onto the desk… jump onto the desk…
A desk wavered into clarity before Tempest's eyes and she prepared to leap on top of it.
Jump onto the desk…
But. A thread of doubt wormed its way into the contented haze of her mind. This wasn't right. She couldn't recall being this at ease- ever, it was downright unnatural was what this was, and the voice that presumed to tell her what to do-
Jump onto the desk…
No, actually. Fuck you, Tempest's mind retorted firmly. And by the way, get out of my head-
Jump! NOW!
The next thing Tempest felt was a stabbing pain lancing up through her foot. She had overturned the desk in question, her enthusiastic serving to have the desk crash down on her foot, crushing what seemed to be all of her toes.
"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, the clouds were blown away and reality crashed down upon Tempest hard enough to make her stagger. Or perhaps that was her foot, which seemed to have doubled in pain.
"Look at that, you lot! Potter fought! She fought it, and she beat it! Overturned the desk rather than jumped onto it- We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention- watch her eyes, that's where you see it- very good Miss Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"
"Merlin, I could do with a cup of tea," groaned Tempest as she limped out of the DADA class an hour later (She had been subjected to the Imperius Curse four more times before she could throw off the curse without any additional, unintended actions). "And a block of chocolate. Mind you, I might not drink that tea, just cradle it and groan some more. Christ."
Ron was skipping on every alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Tempest, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. When they reached the steps down to the entrance hall, she had to save him from breaking his neck as they descended the stairs.
"What's going on?"
The entrance hall was crowded with a large amount of students milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Tempest and Ron, being the tallest, craned their necks and stood on tiptoe to read the sign to Hermione.
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.
"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."
"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
"Diggory," said Tempest. "I'm hardly surprised he's interested in entering."
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student- and he's a prefect." She spoke as though this settled the matter.
"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!" and looked to Tempest for confirmation.
Tempest shrugged. "He's a decent enough from what I know, his dad's a bit of a prick though, remember? We bumped into them at the Quidditch Cup."
"I really don't like people just because they're handsome," Hermione hissed to Tempest, who spread her hands in a placating manner.
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Tempest went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
Tempest noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too. "Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Minnie barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.
"And you, Miss Potter, stop smirking!"
Tempest blinked and occupied herself, sucking on the end of a sugar quill as she surveyed her own cactus. It wasn't as if she didn't have her own things to think about. The aging potion she was brewing for the twins was about done, and she still hadn't heard back from Sirius.
When Tempest went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, she found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.
"Morning," said Tempest, walking towards where the twins were sitting separate from the others at Gryffindor table and slipping a small vial out from her sleeve and dropping it into George's palm, before sliding onto the bench beside him. "A delivery for Mr Weasley?"
"Genius," grinned George, "thanks Hedgy."
"No problem. It's one drop each about ten minutes before whenever you approach the judge- Hey, have you two heard from Bagman yet?"
"No," scowled Fred, "but if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. With the Tournament he can't avoid us forever."
"Who's avoiding you?"
Ron and Hermione had arrived, and they settled down opposite them.
"Malfoy, with any luck," said Tempest smoothly, beginning to mix sugar into her tea. "Have you noticed he's gone a bit quiet recently?"
This distracted Ron immediately.
"Oh yes," he said, his eyes closing briefly as he munched on a piece of bacon. "Ever since the ferret incident. Oh I'm reliving it now…"
Tempest left him to his reminiscing and set about slathering a slice of toast in honey. The twins began to discuss the judging of the tournament with Tempest commenting inbetween bites of toast and sipping of tea. Of course, all of that immediately became sidelined when the rush of post owls arrived, and she noticed one angling down towards her.
The post owl swooped down to land wearily in the space between Tempest's plate and the rack of toast. It busied itself eating the bacon off Ron's plate as Tempest pulled off Sirius's reply.
Tempest- Resistance is futile- I'm back in the country and well hidden, so stop your worrying. I feel as though you spend an awful lot of time looking out for me as opposed to thinking about your own wellbeing. I'm fine, could you please ensure that you remain fine as well? A storm is brewing, Tempest. Keep your eyes open, and if you need me, I'm close. –Yours. Sirius
Tempest folded the letter into quarters and slipped it into her pocket.
The rest of the day passed fairly quickly, either by virtue of the shorter classes, or the happy presence that sat at the back of Tempest's mind. Sirius was still safe and closer now. She didn't know how close exactly, but it was enough to know she wouldn't have to wait weeks for a reply between letters.
When the bell rang early, Tempest, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.
The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.
"Miss Potter, comb that ragged mess! Weasley, straighten your hat," Minne snapped at them both. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."
Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. Tempest ran fingers through her hair in an effort to make the tufts sit flat. The look on Hermione's face told her she was unsuccessful.
"Follow me, please," said Minnie. "First years in front... no pushing..."
They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent- looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Tempest, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.
"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it," said Hermione.
"How many are coming anyway?" asked Tempest. "To come from France and… er… where's Durmstrang again?"
"Somewhere further north," said Hermione, "they've got fur cloaks as part of their uniform so it must be freezing year-round."
"Well isn't that typical," scowled Ron, who was clearly beginning to feel the cold very keenly, "trust the Finnish-"
Tempest laughed, "Ron, I really don't think the Finnish would choose a name so Germanic."
And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers. "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.
Something large and shadowy was swooping across the sky, growing steadily larger as it approached, hurtling at an immense speed. It skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the lights shining from the castle windows revealed it to be a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house. It was pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos and each the size of an elephant.
Buckbeak would have looked like a foal beside any one of them.
The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed- then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
The carriage had just settled when the door bearing a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) to it opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.
Then emerged the largest woman she had ever seen. Tempest did not mean large in the sense of someone like… Vernon say, but she was incredibly tall, perhaps Hagrid's height. Now in contrast to the first years she stood before, she seemed to tower even larger. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. "My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.
"My pupils," said Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Tempest eyed the dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, who had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. They were all staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive eyes. Tempest felt herself with the urge to drape her cloak over one particularly frail looking girl, who was shaking so much, if a breath of wind ghosted from over the Black Lake she was likely to keel over.
"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Maxime asked.
"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
"Warm up, I think," said Maxime. "But ze 'orses-"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other- er- charges."
"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Tempest, grinning.
"My steeds require- er- forceful 'andling," said Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong…"
"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.
"Very well," said Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"
"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.
"Come," said Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Tempest and Ron.
"Who knows if they'll be coming the same way," said Tempest, watching the horses snort at each other, massive gusts of steam emitting from their flared nostrils. She wondered if Hagrid might let her handle one of them at some later date. "They might come in riding dragons. That'd make Hagrid's day."
They stood now waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully at the sky. But then-
"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.
A loud and eerie noise was drifting to them out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed…
"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water- except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks- and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool… and then Tempest saw the rigging.
"It's a mast," she breathed.
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Tempest noticed were wearing heavy cloaks, made out of some shaggy, matted fur. Their height and stature however, suggested they were far more suited to Hogwarts' climate than the Beauxbatons' group. The man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver like his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.
Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Tempest noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Tempest caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. The punch on the arm Ron gave her was greatly unnecessary, and given the want to show off as demonstrated by the schools so far, Tempest understood Karkaroff's desire to place 'Viktor' so prominently. For, as Ron now missed in her ear urgently, it was Viktor Krum.
"I don't believe it!" Ron said in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Tempest! Viktor Krum!"
"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.
"Only a Quidditch Player?" Ron both rounded on Hermione. "Mate, he plays internationally- he played at the Cup, you saw him!"
Tempest was patting herself down and cursed her lack of quill. "D'you think they'll hang around the school often while they're here? If I could get him sign my copy of Quidditch International that'd be something, but I'd just like to discuss his technique-"
"Really," said Hermione, "Tempest, I didn't think you the type-"
"For people like Lockhart, hardly," scoffed Tempest, "but Krum's actually talented."
They reentered the entrance hall, and went into the Great Hall, where they sat at the Gryffindor table facing the Durmstrang party that hovered near the doorway, unsure of where to sit. The Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Personally, Tempest would like to see what sort of surroundings the Beauxbatons students were accustomed to look at the magnificent Hogwarts castle with such distain. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.
"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"
"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space-"
"What?"
"Too late," said Ron bitterly. Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Tempest could see many Slytherins looking very smug about this. As she watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.
"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? I could offer him a space in my dormitory... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."
Hermione snorted and Tempest raised her eyebrows. "Perhaps a tad further than I might go," she said dryly. "I imagine they'll sleep back on their ship." She couldn't image the idea appealed to the Durmstrang students though, as they were shrugging off their heavy furs with expressions of relief and looking around in interest.
Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and- most particularly- guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have 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. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
He sat down, and Tempest saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Tempest had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.
"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.
"Bless you," said Ron.
"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."
"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding. Tempest served herself her favoured Yorkshire pudding dripping in gravy. The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students. Perhaps it was their differently colored uniforms that stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.
Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Tempest with a very heavily bandaged hand.
"Skrewts aren't treating him well, are they?" Hermione commented.
At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
It was a girl from Beauxbatons who had been bundled up in sheets of scarves. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.
Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.
"Yeah, have it," said Tempest, sliding the dish forwards and handing it to the girl.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
The girl took the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Tempest laughed at him. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.
"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Tempest.
"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"
But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron. Tempest herself found her eyes following the motion of the shining blonde hair.
"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
"Thanks," said Hermione tartly, glancing sideways at Tempest, who greatly unconcerned, finally looked away from the simply magnificent hair, and up to the staff table, where Ludo Bagman and Mr Crouch- Percy Weasley's boss were now seated.
"They must be here about the Triwizard Tournament," said Hermione. "They organized it after all, I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."
When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "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" -there was a smattering of polite applause- "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Tempest thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard. Perhaps she was biased. Tempest thought a suit was a far more practical and aesthetically pleasing dress than robes.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "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, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "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."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "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 now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
"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," said 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, 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 said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "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," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough..."
"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Tempest?"
Tempest laughed, "Hardly, I have enough on my plate. I'll leave you boys to it." She glanced backwards briefly at the cup. "Mind you, even with your names in there, it's all chance isn't it?"
Her jovial tone was forced. Because this year, perhaps it was the bustle, but she had almost forgotten what tomorrow was. It hadn't been until Dumbledore had said 'halloween' that Tempest had remembered… and how could she have forgotten?
"Where is he?" said Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of this conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum.
Hermione nodded towards the direction of Karkaroff's voice, which was saying: "Back to the ship, then. Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"
Tempest saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on.
"Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.
"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy-"
Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Tempest, Ron, and Hermione. Tempest stopped to let him walk through first.
"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at her.
And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Tempest and stared at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly across Tempest's face and fixed upon her scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Tempest too. Tempest swallowed, with the sudden urge to duck, so her hair would obscure the scar, which snaked like forks of pale lightning down the left side of her face. Comprehension was dawning on the faces of the Durmstrang students, and Tempest waited, ill at ease.
"Yeah, that's Tempestas Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.
Karkaroff spun around. Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff's. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.
"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.
"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Miss Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."
It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.
Without another word, Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.
"What was that about?" hissed Ron.
Tempest said nothing, and strode off quickly, aiming for the Gryffindor Common room.
She ignored the calls of her name as she took the steps leading up from the entrance hall two at a time. Thirteen years ago tomorrow, Voldemort had murdered her parents, and she had been given the scar that tonight had been a source of attention and wide-eyed gaping.
And on the eve of the anniversary of her parent's death, Tempest lay in bed, stroking Nyx rhythmically. Shared grief may have been hailed as a great coping mechanism, but historically, Tempest had weathered the storm alone.
Sunday dawned, much the same as any other day, if it weren't for the heavy feeling in Tempest's gut. She fixed a grin on her face though when she ran into the twins, on their way to put their names in the cup.
It had turned into quite the affair, as other students gathered around to watch the twins balance at the edge of the age line, clutching pieces of parchment with their name and school written on it. Fred was going first. He stood right at the edge of the line, rocking on his toes like a diver, preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with great presence, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.
For a second, triumphant grins stretched across her, Fred and George's faces, and George leapt after his twin. But the next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible slingshot. They landed painfully, crashing to the ground not a foot from where Tempest stood. Then to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.
Tempest had to laugh, doubling over, the entrance hall ringing with the audience's mirth as well. Fred and George joined in too, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.
"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "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 to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."
Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee Jordan, who was howling with laughter, and Tempest, Ron, and Hermione went in to breakfast.
The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. A cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.
The talk at the table centered around who was putting their name in the cup. All of the Durmstrang students had already done so, and from Hogwarts Diggory was a favourite to be chosen by the Hufflepuffs, Angelina Johnson for Gryffindor, and Warrington for Slytherin. Tempest remained rather quiet, focused on her tea and toast.
"What're we going to do today then?" Ron asked Tempest and Hermione when they had finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall.
Tempest shrugged, while Hermione perked up. "We could see Hagrid," she said, "I haven't asked him to join S.P.E.W yet!" And she rushed upstairs to grab the badges and collection tin.
"What is it with her?" said Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase. His attention was quickly overtaken however, by the students from Beauxbatons who were coming through the front doors from the grounds. Amongst them was the veela-girl.
Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.
"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to Tempest as the veela-girl dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"
"Probably hang around?" Tempest watched Ron watching the Beauxbaton girls, decided he was being a bit of a creep and glanced again at the girls to see if there was something she had missed. Her eyes couldn't help following the sheet of shifting silver that was the veela girl's hair, but other than that, she put Ron's infatuation down to males.
When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.
"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them.
"Say that louder then, why don't you?" Tempest said.
A loud rattling noise behind them announced Hermione's reappearance with the box of S.P.E.W. badges.
"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the veela-girl, who was now halfway across the lawn with Maxime.
As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons' sleeping quarters was solved. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside.
Tempest knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.
"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"
"We've been really busy, Hag-" Hermione started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.
Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches- perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair.
"Special occasion?" asked Tempest, nodding at his attire. "It's… charming."
Hagrid beamed, then straightening his blazer. "Yeh like it, Tempest?"
"Sure," said Tempest, "any reason for the change though?"
Hagrid's smile turned slightly shifty, and he shuffled for a bit, before letting the three of them into his cabin. "Jus' somethin' I'm tryin' out."
Tempest decided to disregard the blatant lie. She had a strange feeling she already knew.
Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as Ron was.
"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task... ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."
"Go on, Hagrid!" Ron urged him, but he just shook his head, grinning.
"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"
They ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though they didn't eat much- Hagrid had made what he said was a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a large talon in hers, she, Tempest, and Ron rather lost their appetites. However, they enjoyed themselves trying to make Hagrid tell them what the tasks in the tournament were going to be, speculating which of the entrants were likely to be selected as champions, and wondering whether Fred and George were beardless yet.
A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; it was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house-elves- for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him her badges.
"It'd be doin' 'em an unkindness, Hermione," he said gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick yellow yarn. "It's in their nature ter look after humans, that's what they like, see? Yeh'd be makin' 'em unhappy ter take away their work, an' insultin' 'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."
"But Tempest set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!" said Hermione. "And we heard he's asking for wages now!"
"Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I'm not sayin' there isn't the odd elf who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never persuade most of 'em ter do it- no, nothin' doin', Hermione."
Hermione looked very cross indeed, glaring at Tempest after she shot her a 'told you so' look and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket.
By half past five it was growing dark, and Ron, Tempest, and Hermione decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast- and the announcement of the school champions.
"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid, putting away his darning. "Jus' give us a sec."
Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed, and began searching for something inside it. They didn't pay too much attention until a truly horrible smell reached their nostrils. Coughing, Ron said, "Hagrid, what's that?"
"Eh?" said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. "Don' yeh like it?"
"Is that aftershave?" said Hermione in a slightly choked voice.
"Er- eau de cologne," Hagrid muttered. He was blushing. "Maybe it's a bit much," he said gruffly. "I'll go take it off, hang on…" He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.
"Eau de cologne?" said Hermione in amazement. "Hagrid?"
"Maxime," said Tempest, staring out of the window.
Hagrid had just straightened up and turned around. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast too. They couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression Tempest had only ever seen him direct towards his one-time baby dragon, Norbert.
"He's going up to the castle with her!" said Hermione indignantly. "I thought he was waiting for us!"
Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.
"He fancies her!" said Ron incredulously. "Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record- bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton."
They let themselves out of the cabin and shut the door behind them. It was surprisingly dark outside. Drawing their cloaks more closely around themselves, they set off up the sloping lawns.
"Ooh it's them, look!" Hermione whispered.
The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around.
When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George- clean-shaven again- seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well. Tempest clapped them both on the shoulders before she sat down "Hard luck, boys."
"We can only hope its Angelina now," said Fred.
The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual, which was an achievement, as it had always dragged for Tempest. She should have been hungry from their not-lunch at Hagrid's, yet the extravagantly prepared food before her failed to tempt her appetite. She only grudgingly ate a slice of treacle tart after George slid the plate before her. At this point, she merely wanted to know who the champions were going to be, then return to her bed, where she could lie and stare at pictures of her parents while smothering her sorrows in her stash of chocolate she kept for the nights when she succumbed to melancholy.
At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "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" -he indicated the door behind the staff table- "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it- the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Tempest saw Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
It was the girl who so resembled a veela. She got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
"No!" said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except Tempest; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "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-"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. Tempest, who had begun shifting to stand, to leave, stopped. She watched with the rest of the hall as a long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out-
"Tempestas Potter."
Tempest sat there, the Great Hall obscured by a ringing that filled her ears. It was utterly silent after Dumbledore's announcement. It faded only for the buzzing of angry whispers to grow and fill the hall. She kept her eyes very fixedly on her plate, and wondered if she were stuck in a dream.
All she had wanted was to go to bed. All she had wanted was a quiet-ish year, in terms of near death experiences at least. They hadn't seemed like huge asks.
Tempest turned her head, her neck feeling very stiff, to look at Dumbledore. Perhaps it was the old man's idea of a joke, perhaps he knew it was she that had brewed the aging potion for the twins and this was his odd way of calling her out…
Minnie was at Dumbledore's side, whispering urgently to him. He straightened up, nodding to Minnie.
"Tempestas Potter!" he called again. "Tempest! Up here, if you please!"
Tempest remained seated. Until George prodded her in the ribs, and she got to her feet, tripping over her own ankles in the process and stumbling. She set off down the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, her gaze fixed on Dumbledore. And Minnie. Minnie, who wore a somber expression, and would not meet Tempest's eyes.
Tempest stopped right before Dumbledore.
"Well… through the door, Tempest," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
"This is ridiculous." Tempest said quietly. "You know that."
Dumbledore motioned towards the door.
Tempest swallowed, and moved towards and through the door. She found herself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite her. The faces in the portraits turned to look at her when she entered. She noted they stared for a moment, then flitted out of their frames to whisper to one another.
Krum, Diggory and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. Fleur looked around when Tempest walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair. Tempest was with a sense of familiarity. "What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
Tempest opened her mouth to say she wasn't the messenger, she really wasn't sure what was happening- then shut it. She'd simply wait for someone else to come along and explain it all.
That someone arrived in the form of Ludo Bagman, who entered the room and seized Tempest's arm. She shook it free, none too subtly.
"Absolutely extraordinary," Bagman muttered, undeterred, "Gentlemen… lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce- incredible though it may seem- the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Tempest. She postponed her hopes of an autograph. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Tempest and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Tempest's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Fleur frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "She cannot compete. She is too young."
"Well... it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Tempest. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name's come out of the goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules, you're obliged... Tempest will just have to do the best-"
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Dumbledore, followed closely by Crouch, Karkaroff, Maxime, Minnie, and Snape. Tempest heard the commotion with the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before Minnie closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little girl is to compete also!"
Maxime drew herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions- or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a short and nasty laugh.
"C'est impossible," said Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. " 'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. She has never failed to step over a single line-"
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.
Dumbledore was now looking down at Tempest, who looked right back at him, frustration and indignation warring in her eyes.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Tempest?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Tempest. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.
"No," said Tempest.
"Ah, but of course she is lying!" cried Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"She could not have crossed the Age Line," said Minnie sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that-"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Minnie angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Tempest could not have crossed the line herself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that she did not persuade an older student to do it for her, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!" She shot a very angry look at Snape.
"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our- er- objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"No," Tempest said quietly but distinctly. Perhaps there was an odd note to her voice, for the adults all quieted. "I didn't put my name in the cup, nor did I ask anyone else to, because I didn't want my name in there. That all being said, I refuse to compete, I forfeit, and we can all put this behind us."
The briefest of silences, then:
"Take it back!" Minnie all but yelled at her, "you cannot forfeit-"
Tempest stared at her, taken aback by the reaction. "Why not?"
"Binding magical contract," Dumbledore said, his voice not as loud as Minnie's but it still held an uncharacteristic note of urgency. "If you break such a contract- one that you made the moment your name came out of that cup- you will lose your magic."
"I- cup- what?" It took Tempest the barest of seconds for the sudden fear coursing through her veins to jolt her jaw into gabbing out, "I take it back, I rescind my forfeiture, I- " She ran out of breath as her chest became very tight, and she struggled to breathe for a moment.
When she regained her faculties, Karkaroff was saying: "-I did not expect something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Then you had better listen to the other half of your mind Karkaroff, empty threat," growled a voice from the door. "Or did you just become deaf too in the past few minutes? Would you risk your champion's magic? I believe forcing that choice upon someone and causing them to lose their magic gains you a spell in Azkaban… something I suppose you are quite familiar with."
Moody stumped into the room. Karkaroff clamped his mouth shut, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at Moody, Tempest apparently forgotten for the time being.
"But then again, that is not the only thing that can land you in Azkaban these days," Moody said, staring at Karkaroff with both mismatched eyes. "Trying to get someone killed might just do it too…"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Karkaroff said with an air of forced calm. Tempest could see his hands shaking.
"Don't you? It's very simple Karkaroff, someone put Miss Potter's name in that goblet- as it is clear she did not do it herself- and they knew she would have to compete if it came out."
"Clearly someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" burst out Maxime.
Tempest wasn't so sure that was the case, and then again, she wasn't so sure that Karkaroff had put her name in the cup either. Moody seemed to be implying so, yet Karkaroff was clearly against her inclusion.
"I hardly think I would be the best competition," said Tempest with an air of forced calm, "is there really no loophole to exploit here? Surely there are rules enforcing the… er, exclusivity?" She looked to Crouch. "No? Could we at least talk about how someone got my name into that cup, and why it was my name specifically that came out?"
"It was most likely an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm." Moody growled almost at once. "Only a powerful caster could hoodwink a magical object that powerful into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… it would be my guess that they submitted Miss Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure she was the only one in the category."
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember…"
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Moody fell silent, still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction- Karkaroff's face was burning.
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Tempest have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do… If there are any other alternatives- as my mind has provided me none- please speak now."
Dumbledore glanced around serenely, as Karkaroff glared, and Maxine didn't look pleased, but resigned. Bagman seemed rather excited.
"Well, shall we crack on then?" Bagman asked, rubbing his hands together. "We've got to give our champions the instructions, Barty, want to do the honours?"
Mr Crouch, who to Tempest seemed to come out of a deep reverie, began. "Yes, instructions… the first task. The first task is designed to test your daring so we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… Very important.
The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for, or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament." Tempest saw Crouch's eyes flicker slightly to Karkaroff, before he continued. "The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." Mr Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that is all, is it Albus?"
"I think so." said Dumbledore, and taking note of how tired Crouch looked, he continued, looking at Mr Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Crouch, "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby in charge… Very enthusiastic… a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"
Dumbledore attempted further pleasantries with the others, who left not long after, Karkaroff and Maxime with their students, Minnie, giving Tempest a last worried look.
"Tempest, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at them both. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Tempest turned and left.
She was halfway across the deserted Great Hall when Diggory caught up with her. "Hey, Tempest, so we're playing against each other again!"
"Not really what I had in mind," said Tempest.
Diggory laughed. "Me either."
They reached the entrance hall and the marble staircase. "Goodnight," muttered Tempest, beginning to ascend.
"Hey." Cedric called her back, and Tempest turned reluctantly. "For the record," he said, "I don't think you put your name in that cup."
"Thanks."
Cedric grinned, and he headed for a door to his right.
Tempest didn't go to the Gryffindor common room. Dumbledore's words rung true. Regardless of the initial reaction, the twins would doubtless have thrown a bash up in the common room, and if Tempest wanted quiet, she would not find it in that direction.
Instead, she headed for the Owlrey.
She fished out a convenient roll of parchment, quill and ink from behind a loose stone in the tower wall, standing out on the battlements for the moonlight to illuminate the scrawling words across parchment.
Sirius- Someone's entered my name into the Goblet of Fire and now I'm competing in the Triwizard Tournament. I wanted to let you know first. Given my track record, it can't be good, can it? - Best, Tempest.
Tempest coaxed down a sleepy barn owl from the rafters and tied the letter to it's leg. She watched the bird soar off, wobbling in the air, travelling towards Sirius.
Tempest put the parchment, quill and ink back. She approached the battlements and hoisted herself up till she was standing on top of the thick ridged wall, a several hundred feet drop falling away to her right side.
She balanced on the wall for a moment, closing her eyes against the swooping sensation that filled her stomach when she looked down. This was different to being on a broom. If she fell there was no Wronski Feint which could save her from an unpleasant end.
Tempest walked across the battlements to where the roof of the Owlrey slanted down to meet the wall. It wasn't much of a jump to land on the roof, but if she slipped or lost her footing, there was precious little to cling on to.
Tempest jumped, with the surety of someone who was echoing motions made many times before. She climbed up the slanting stone till she reached a small ledge, where there was just enough room for one person to sprawl out, or two to squeeze every tightly together. She settled down, shivering slightly.
The view from up there was phenomenal. The Black Lake glimmered and shifted beneath the moonlight, while the Forbidden Forest stretched on and on to the base of the mountain range that stood in its jagged silhouette against the starry sky.
"Expecto Patronum."
A shimmering silver doe formed out of sparkling white light at the tip of Tempest's wand and frolicked around on the rooftop. She tossed her head back to look at Tempest with eyes of pure white.
"Join me, won't you?"
The doe bowed its head and trotted over air to settle down beside Tempest. For something that shone so brightly, it emitted no warmth.
"If ever there was a night for self pity, eh?" Tempest watched her breath mist in front of her and rested her chin on her knees. She wondered if there would be a time when the seemingly relentless cycle of universal battering would end. Tempest didn't look at the doe beside her. The eyes would be blank, and lacking sentience, and Tempest didn't need reminding. "I wonder if there'll ever be a time when it doesn't feel like this."
A voice said: "Talking to yourself Potter?"
A flick of Tempest's wand had the doe dissolving into nothing within a second, and she pointed it at Draco Malfoy, the last person she wanted to see, rising above the lip of the roof, floating astride his Nimbus 2001.
"What- the hell- are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same, Potter. What- are the rest of your housemates too lowly for even your presence?"
"That sounds more like something you'd think, Malfoy, and I wouldn't fault you there."
Malfoy's upper lip curled, "So. Triwizard champion. You thought you'd be covered in more adoring fans, and when you realized that wasn't going to happen, I'm guessing you came up here to feel above it all."
"I didn't put my name in that cup, Malfoy."
"Probably thought you didn't have enough going for you," Malfoy sneered, "no Lockhart or mass murderer out for your neck this year. I bet you're loving it, precious Potter, in the spotlight again. You'd think someone who got famous off their parents snuffing it would be-"
The anger that had been building in Tempest's chest had a bolt of red light scorching across the space between her and Malfoy, making him jerk violently to the side to avoid it.
"I would trade lives with you in a heartbeat." Tempest said.
Malfoy stared at her, unable, or perhaps unwilling to reach for his wand, when she had hers trained on him, and he was balanced on his broomstick.
Tempest lowered her wand slowly, the anger draining from her. It was strange. The doe was gone, and Malfoy was the last person she would speak openly to, but the words came tumbling out regardless. "I don't like the person I am- hell, I don't like the person you are, but you have so much- your father, the one you mention so much, the one who's tried to kill me in the past… he genuinely cares about you. What I'd give-"
She came to her senses and stood. Malfoy had said nothing since her outburst. "Goodnight Malfoy," Tempest said, and made her way off the roof.
It was only when she was in the Owlrey and descending the winding stairs that it occurred to Tempest that Malfoy had never said why he had been flying about the Hogwarts towers at night. To be fair, she hadn't answered his question either. It was hardly as though they would've been up there for the same reasons.