ANNOUNCEMENT!
First of all, I will start with an apology. Because I've been rewriting the entire fourth book as another story, I've caused a lot of misunderstands, so, I am sorry.
Second: to clear the confusion, the real and proper fourth book or year is Tнє Bartoη Saga Book Four: The Masks We Wear. The one called Anya Barton Book Four: The Masks We Wear is my original take on fourth year, and I'm merely keeping it because of my nostalgic feelings for it as I consider it a pretty success in the series(despite my awful grammar, which I still have I admit).
Third and last: the fifth book, Anya Barton Book Five: Just One More Lie, will change of title to Tнє Bartoη Saga Book Five: Just One More Lie, and the first two chapters will be rewritten too. This will happen once I finish Year Four. If you're still confused or have questions, send me a PM or review and I will gladly answer back.
Once again, I'm sorry for the confusion.
crossMIRAGE19 off.
"I don't even want to know why you keep a bottle of spices in your pockets," I muttered.
"Well, it's working, isn't it?" said Marie, and waved a small tube with reddish dust under Ron's nose. The effect was immediate: he sprang alive and straightened on his feet. Harry and Neville barely avoided being hit by his flailing arms.
Ron gasped. "I don't believe it!" He blindly searched for something to grasp - which happened to be Harry's neck. "Harry, did you see him? It's Krum, Viktor Krum!"
"Gee Ron, we didn't notice," I said sarcastically.
"For Heaven's sake, Ronald, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione added.
"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron repeated, staring at her aghast. ("Oh god," Harry moaned quietly) "Only a Quidditch player?! Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"
We turned (not so subtly) to stare at Viktor Krum. He looked a bit intimidating: tall, dark, and brooding: his eyes were scanning the castle, often drifting to the students as they pointed at him excitedly. His eyes fell on us for a moment, but he looked away, uninterested.
Ron hugged Harry's head to his side. "He looked at us!" he hissed. "Quick - any of you got a quill?"
Hermione huffed. "Honestly!"
"Come on," I pushed at Ron's back. "Let's get inside before this turns out more creepier than it is."
"But -"
"No buts, Weasley!"
Ron kept oogling at Viktor Krum on the way to the Great Hall. He was not the only one, of course: Lee Jordan was jumping to catch sight of the Quidditch player, and when we passed a group of sixth year girls, they were looking over at him, giggling. I found their reactions quite ridiculous, more so when I heard one of them ask if he would consider signing her hat with lipstick. It made me wonder how Krum could stand it, or if his classmates did the same. As much as I tried to I couldn't imagine the Durmstrang lot jumping and giggling, when their facial expressions were even worse than Marie's.
"Don't sit there!" said Ron to Neville. He pushed him to the next seat and sat himself. His chair was facing the doorway of the Great Hall, and I couldn't but notice Krum and a few other students from Durmstrang seemed lost about where to sit. The Beauxbatons Delegation had chosen to sit with the Ravenclaws.
When three girls from Beauxbatons started to shiver violently, Hermione said, defensively, "It's not that cold. Why didn't they bring cloaks?"
I shrugged. "Fashion before safety."
"Hello!"
My head snapped to the side. To my astonishment, I was staring at a pair of familiar silver eyes. The more I stared, I realized they had a blue tint around the iris.
"Can I sit here? Thank you!"
James dropped unceremoniously in the seat on my left. He started nodding to himself, staring at the ceiling with wide, curious eyes.
It have been a while since this boy had crossed my mind. Or yet, since the first time I met him. He still seemed to be as odd and suicidal as I'd pegged him back at the camp, but now, he seemed more calm, if not a bit excited. I also noticed he was wearing a long, brown coat of matted fur, except his didn't seem as hairy as the rest of Durmstrang's.
Seeing my friends staring at him, I quickly turned and poked him on the shoulder.
He started. When James finally looked at me, he did a double take, and a grin took over his face. His handsome face took me by surprise for a moment, but by the time I recovered, he was already speaking.
"Anya, the not some damsel in distress!" he said. "Fancy seeing you here!"
The strange glint that sparkled in his eyes told me that his choice of seating was not a coincidence at all.
"You two know each other?" Neville asked cautiously.
"No -" I started, but James said, "Yes!"
There was a pause. Then, "Yes -", just as he said, "No."
I sighed, staring at the ceiling incredulously. By the next time we tried, we said, "Yes and no."
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville stared at us.
"Blimey," said Ron faintly. You could almost hear a pin dropping despite the chatter around us.
"Yeah." I breathed. I pointed at James with my thumb. "Guys, this is James and - well, I met him back at the Quidditch World Cup."
"When?" Hermione asked. By the way she was squinting her eyes, I supposed she was trying to remember at which point did she see him while we had walked around the camp.
"Um, when the Death Eaters attacked."
They stared at me uncomfortably.
James, bless his soul, spoke again. "Hello!" he chirped. "Nice to meet you!"
I closed my eyes. Trust me to find the oddest people ever.
"So, Durmstrang?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Ah."
Hermione cleared her throat, looking at me pointedly. I sagged in relief.
"James, this are my friends," I pointed at each one as I spoke, "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and to my other side is Neville Longbottom."
"Oh, nice to meet you." James didn't blink at all when I said Harry's name. He shook everyone's hands and sat back, craning his neck to look around. "Is this gold?" he said suddenly, picking the goblet in front of him.
"I don't think so," said Hermione carefully. "Why?"
"No reason. Not yet, anyways." He looked up, and then said abruptly, "Oh look, Viktor Krum just sat with Draco Malfoy."
Ron jumped. "What?!" he hissed, standing up to look at the Slytherin table. "Hermione, there was space enough next to you! Why didn't you budge over?"
"Because he was with friends, Ron, and it is not like the rest of them would have preferred to sit on our laps," said Hermione scathingly.
As Hermione and Ron bickered, I stared at James with narrowed eyes. He'd obviously distracted them, but why?
He met my eyes eventually: with an eyebrow raised, James smirked. It was lopsided, resembling half a smile. For some strange reason, it seemed as if he knew something I didn't. I didn't like it, not one bit.
"So," he started. For the first time, he sounded serious. "Anya Barton."
I squinted up at him.
"Yes?"
He shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just -" he gestured at me with a finger "- I imagined you quite different." He spoke as if he was disappointed with what he saw.
"What you see, is what you get," I snapped, puffing out one cheek. "If you searched for more, I would've suggested you sat with that lot," I pointed at the Beauxbatons girls. I'd forgotten how much annoying this boy could be.
James stared down at me for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he laughed.
"Oh, Barton," he said between chuckles. "You and I'll get along just fine."
I doubt it, I thought.
When all the students finally settled, the staff entered. Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime were the last to enter. The Beauxbatons Delegation had stood when their Headmistress appeared, and they did not sit nor look embarrassed when a few students from Hogwarts laughed until Madame Maxime sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbeldore remained standing, and 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 same beautiful girl with blue eyes from before gave a derisive laugh.
"No one's making you stay!" Hermione hissed.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
He sat down and he and Karkaroff engaged into a conversation.
The plates filled with food as usual, except there were a few dishes I definitely recognized as french cuisine from the times I worked as a waitress back at St. Louise's. The rest of the food was also of foreign origin but I didn't recognize anything else.
"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."
James poked at it with his fork but didn't comment anything.
"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.
At some point, James took off his coat and I blinked as my view was suddenly full of blood-red.
"Whoa," I muttered unconsciously.
James hummed. "Distracting isn't it? Then again, it could be me."
Twenty minutes later since the start of the feast, Hagrid arrived and we all waved at him in greeting, with Harry inquiring about the Skrewts. Just as Ron commented about Hagrid's next loss of fingers, the girl with deep blue eyes came behind Ron and Harry.
"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" she asked in her thick accent. Up to this close, I noticed her teeth were unnaturally white and perfect, and now that she wasn't wearing a muffler, her long silvery-blond hair fell almost past her waist. She looked at us with a critical eye, stopping briefly to stare at Harry and James in appreciation, but her gaze returned to Ron.
He was sitting very still, his face slowly turning red and purple from the lack of respiration. He was gaping up at the girl, the plate containing the black pudding on his hand. Ron opened his mouth and a gurgle came out instead. Thankfully, Harry jumped to his aid and took the plate from, offering it to the french girl.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron stared after the girl as if he had never seen one up-close. When it started to get annoying, I grabbed one of the chips and tossed it at his head. It successfully hit its target, and Ron snapped out of his reverie.
"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely.
"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"
She wasn't right: as the girl crossed the Hall, many heads turned in her way, looking just as speechless as Ron had.
"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron said, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
I raised and eyebrow, leaning back on my seat. "Excuse me?"
"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry quickly to appease me. However, he kept shooting small glances at the Ravenclaw table, specifically, where Cho Chang sat along the silvery-blond.
This particularly made me more annoyed than I already was.
"When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."
She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.
"What are they doing here?" Harry asked in surprise.
"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."
There were different dishes too when the second course arrived. Ron moved a plate of blancmange so it was clearly visible to see from the Ravenclaw table in hopes the silvery-blond girl would come back. She didn't.
Once the golden cutlery had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood.
"The moment has come," he started, and everyone leaned in anticipation; the thrill and excitement was almost palpable. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —"
"The what?" Neville muttered.
" - 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."
I clapped politely.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts," Dumbledore said. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Argus Filch approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions the champions have to face have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch left the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced through the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways; their magical powers- their daring- their powers of deduction- and, of course, their ability of 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 students yields to temptations, 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."
His eyes grew serious. "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."
My eye was twitching by the time I arrived at the Great Hall. Unlike other Saturdays (and normal people too), today everyone was sitting at the tables, staring excitedly at the Goblet while they ate. It had been placed in the center of the Hall on the stool that normally was brought for the Sorting. A thin golden line had been traced around the stool, forming a circle of... ten feet radius, I think? Because I was a normal person, I was the only one late for breakfast it appeared.
The Weasley twins were dancing around the circle, each of them holding a thin piece of paper in their hands. One of them - Fred or George - took a leap of faith, and stepped inside the circle. There was silence - then, with a loud yell of triumph, the other twin followed.
Perhaps I was still dreaming. There was a second in which, George and Fred were thrown away from the Goblet, and when they tried to stand, they were wearing long, white beards, their faces a little wrinkled. They nearly matched Dumbledore's.
"Oh my god, what did I drink?" I muttered with wide eyes.
"Nothing wrong, I assure you, Anya," said a deeply amused voice behind me. The laughs quieted down as Dumbledore stepped beside me. "But, I did warn you," he addressed the Weasley twins. "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 are anything as fine as yours."
"A little bit biased, aren't we, sir?" I said quietly as I stared after the twins, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.
The Headmaster nodded. His blue eyes were twinkling. "Perhaps. Have an excellent breakfast, Miss Barton."
I saluted with two fingers. "Quite right too, sir."
The decorations had been changed. As it was Halloween, bats were flying up in the ceiling, not slowing down nor getting closer to the tables. This year, the pumpkins were carefully placed between the tables in rows: it was clear it had been done so Madam Maxime wouldn't hit her head by accident.
Just when I sat across from Neville and Marie, James plopped down my left.
"Isn't your Headmaster wicked or what?!"
Marie blinked owlishly at him, watching as he slurped his soup in the most indecorous way. It was then that I noticed he was doing it to keep the Beauxbatons girls away, as a very large proportion of females slowly began to disappear.
"Who are you?" said Marie in contempt, narrowing her eyes.
It appeared he had not noticed her at all. Looking away from his food, he stared at her for the first time, doing a double take. Blankly, his eyes scanned her face and lingered on her robe, where her House crest was knitted, and finally settled on her eyes.
"James Rigel," he said. I was surprised to hear his surname as he had not bothered to offer it the last time. "And you are..."
"Harlaown, Marie," she said and fell silent. However, her gaze never strayed from his.
I looked between the two of them. Finally, it was Neville who broke the awkward moment by clearing his throat.
"So..." he started hesitantly. "How about we take a stroll around the castle?"
"Like a tour?"
"If you like to think so," said Neville.
Just as Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor's Chaser in Quidditch, came in grinning, I turned away from the cheers and noticed they were all looking at me, waiting for my answer.
"Er, a tour doesn't sound bad... yeah, let's get out of here."
"I think we are lost," said Neville fretfully as we rounded the corner.
"Nonsense!" James said as we passed the same armor from an hour ago.
"We are lost, moron," I snapped, at the same time Marie said, "Hello Peeves!"
Neville, who was a constant target to the Poltergeist's pranks, instantly took off. "RUN!"
"Ouch! What was that for?!" James was rubbing his head, wincing. He was also glaring at Marie, whose expression was different from normal, nearly looking pleased. I held the book that hit him, looking through it with interest.
Marie raised her hands innocently. "I didn't do it - it was the Nargles."
James spluttered. "The what?"
After two more places, I began to notice the animosity between James and Marie. No matter where we were, Marie acted cold toward him despite the boy's efforts to make her like him, but he didn't seem to care, not much anyways. Eventually, Marie left to find Dennis, and after a few walks around the grounds, a boy from Durmstrang came and yelled at James in his native language, and he left too, leaving me with Neville. We talked about our summers as we didn't have the time to do so in the last two months. The talk of what happened after Mad-Eye's first class was always overshadowing us, but somehow we managed to avoid it easily.
By the time we returned to the castle, it was already dark and the Beauxbatons students and their Headmaster were making their way inside Hogwarts. I blinked, looking to Madam Maxime's left and I tilted my head to the side. "What the hell is that?"
My eyes followed the tall, familiar figure of Hagrid, who for some strange circumstance was wearing his hairy (and only) brown suit, along with the orange tie with yellow spots he wore for Buckbeak's trial four months ago. His bushy hair was held back into a low ponytail, and even from this distance, I could tell he smelt odd.
Neville was openly gaping at sight. "What is Hagrid wearing?"
"Hagrid fancies Madam Maxime." I half-turned. Ron was standing behind me, crouching slightly as he peered over Neville's shoulder (the Durmstrang boys were walking little ahead of us, Viktor Krum in view).
"Is that why he smells?" I asked, torn between wanting to laugh or wanting to go and charm Hagrid myself.
"It's his eau de cologne," said Harry, still looking after him shocked.
"I thought it was aftershave," said Hermione as she smoothed down a laugh.
"Are you sure it ain't Dungbombs?" I muttered, wrinkling my nose.
The Great Hall was candlelit when we entered and most of the light came from the Goblet of Fire, which had been placed in front of Dumbledore's empty chair. James nor Marie came to sit in the Gryffindor table.
When dinner began, not many seemed enthusiastic to eat. Contrary to them, I was starving, and as I ate, I heard many talking about who would be chosen. Angelina Johnson and Cedric Diggory were tied, I assumed by the way they were cheered on.
Before I knew it, the food the disappeared and the chatter died immediately. Professor Dumbledore stood slowly - too slowly for my taste - and looked around solemnly. On either side of him, Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff looked equally tense; Ludo Bagman was beaming and Barty Crouch looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
"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 waved it; at once, all the candles except the ones inside the pumpkins were extinguished. If it wasn't for the Goblet of Fire's blue-white flames, we would be in the dark.
"Any second," Lee Jordan, friend of the Weasley twins, whispered excitedly.
The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red, sparks flying from it. Next moment, there was a burst of flames, a thin piece of parchment shooting into the air. As it gently floated, Dumbledore caught it, the flames on the goblet turning blue again.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" Ron yelled over the cheers and clapping. I saw Viktor 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. "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's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl with unnatural beauty 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 rest of the Beauxbatons' party. Two of the girls who had probably gotten their names into the goblet had burst into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
"Bit of an understatement, innit?" I said.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement I could almost taste it; we were seconds from knowing who was the Hogwarts Champion...
And the Goblet of Fire 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!"
The uproar from the Hufflepuff table was deafening. Every single one of them 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. The applause went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"Excellent! 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 -"
He stopped short. I followed his gaze and saw, with growing confusion, that the Goblet of Fire had turned red once more. Sparks began to shot out of it more violently than the last times, and like the last times, a thin piece of paper appeared on the air. Dumbledore stared as it floated down and automatically caught it between his fingers. He held it out to the light, and his expression changed into disbelief as he read out the name sounding like a death sentence.
"Harry Potter."
And looking back at it, it pretty much was one.
A friendly reminder that the poll about the Yule Ball is still open, and also, I have created a tracklist of the Barton Saga for the first four years. Search the link on my profile. :)