The various leaders had held many differing expectations about what the great meeting would entail, but, as none of them anticipated the Guardian's appearance, they could not have been more wrong.
Sayern nar'Hazohz (The History of the Treaty), translated from Gobblededook circa 1952
"Let's hope," Daphne muttered darkly, "that I wasn't correct about the preliminaries for the Slytherin Task."
Around her, six grim-faced wizards in green-trimmed robes nodded. For the past few weeks, they had done everything in their power to uncover the first task: bribery, asking teachers, wheedling, even a bit of espionage. Members of other Houses had done the same- rumor had it that a Ravenclaw had even tried to spike Dumbledore's evening pumpkin juice with a truth potion, but to no avail.
"At least the other Houses didn't get it either," pointed out Emrys Srijata, the seventh year champion. He was short, just barely cresting five feet, with dusky skin and liquid brown eyes. Girls had been known to complain about his height, the only thing keeping him from attaining the lofty status of 'total dreamboat.' "We might not have an advantage, but we're not disadvantaged either."
"I'd rather have the advantage," grumbled Celeste Montague. Stocky, almost fat, she stood half a head higher than the other Slytherin. "And what if that was what we were supposed to do?"
"I hope not," the first year champion muttered fervently. Adelbert Bulstrode's blocky face was slick with sweat. "I just wish they'd start already so we could go and get it over with."
Celeste and a couple other champions frowned. Daphne patted Adelbert's shoulder. "I strongly believe that we weren't supposed to find out beforehand. The tasks are supposed to be difficult, not impossible. And even if it was, there is nothing we can do about it now. Besides, as Emrys said, no one else succeeded either."
"That we know about," declared Montague. "The other Houses could be lying to us. I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to drop a line to his precious Boy-Who-Lived."
Daphne's lips tightened. The older girl had been her prime rival within the team, a voice of paranoia and suspicion and competition. She had never been interested in cleaning up Slytherin House, and of course she wasn't going to start now.
"I see Dumbledore!" Philip Harper exclaimed.
The other Slytherins turned. Sure enough, Dumbledore, clad in a garish purple robe that would have made Lockhart wince, strode serenely into the Great Hall. The seven students in the roped-off section for champions perked up. They weren't the only ones. The entire hall quieted. Not even ghosts spoke. Everyone leaned forward, eagerly awaiting the first task.
So, of course, Dumbledore took his time approaching the Head Table. By the time he finally, finally arrived at his seat, some of the more impatient students were practically frothing at the mouth. "Start already!" they wanted to scream (though fortunately everyone had the good sense to remain silent). "Spit it out!"
Dumbledore twinkled at them. He drew out the tension for another infinite moment before announcing, "The first task of the Tournament of Houses is about to begin."
Heads bobbed impatiently. We know that, old man. That's why we're all here instead of sleeping in or doing homework or practicing Quidditch. Get on with it!
"The Slytherin Task is designed to test cunning, cleverness, and adaptability," he continued. Was it just Daphne's imagination, or was he speaking more slowly than normal? She couldn't tell. Still, she wouldn't put it past him. "As such, you had no warning beforehand and were not supposed to have one, despite rumors that finding out the task was part of the task."
Montague and Bulstrode went limp with relief. "Thank Merlin," the first year muttered.
Daphne winced, all that anxiety over nothing.
"'But why would we need warnings?' you might ask," Dumbledore continued. "You would need warnings because the task will take place in the Forbidden Forest."
Whispers erupted all around the Great Hall. Was he mad? There were all sorts of monsters in the forest, werewolves and acromantulas and maybe a basilisk and hostile centaurs and- and- it was forbidden for a reason, you know!
Dumbledore continued on as though he hadn't noticed the children's fear. "The teams will be given two hours to complete their mission, which is to find a clue to the Hufflepuff Task somewhere in the woods. Teams are allowed to ambush each other and, indeed, even steal another team's clue. If you do not have a clue by the end of the two hours, you will be forced to go into the Hufflepuff Task blind."
"In other words, we need to steal someone else's clue," Montague muttered. "That way we'll stay safe while disabling another team. I vote we follow the Gryffindors."
The other Slytherins looked far, far too tempted by her suggestion.
Daphne fought back a groan. After her suggestion fell through, she had no way of convincing them to do their own work instead of mooching off someone else's. Yes, stealing the answer might strategically be the soundest choice for the contest, but the Tournament was not real life. They would win this round at a cost she, for one, was not willing to pay.
But her teammates probably wouldn't care. All they wanted was victory and glory for Slytherin House.
"One hint," Dumbledore added. "The clues will be hidden along a stream."
Daphne's head perked up. If a stream was involved, it would probably drain into the lake. All they would have to do is follow the lake until they found a stream that led into the Forbidden Forest, after that they had to merely follow the water. In fact, she was quite certain she knew the stream Dumbledore was talking about.
The headmaster waved his wand. An enormous hourglass filled with green, red, yellow, and blue sand appeared. It floated above the Head Table, shimmering slightly in the enchanted ceiling's light.
"The two hours begin in five… four… three… two… one."
The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws bolted out of the room. The Slytherins turned to the Gryffindors, who were in turn looking at the Slytherins.
"Let's go outside," Emrys murmured, not taking his eyes from the red and gold table. "Make it look like we're not going to ambush them. Anyone here good with Disillusionment Charms?"
"I am," Daphne sighed. She wasn't anywhere near Harry's skill level, but she had managed to pick up a few things by hanging around him.
The Slytherins pushed themselves out of their chairs, ambled leisurely towards the forest. As they walked, Daphne wracked her brains, searching for a way to convince them to take another path.
She couldn't find anything they would listen to. Fortunately (or perhaps not), she didn't have to.
"We lost them," Mark Potter groaned. "How are we supposed to follow the Slytherins to the clue if we've lost them already?"
Celeste couldn't stop herself. "Hey!"
Mark jumped.
"Like we need them," sneered an older Gryffindor. "Come on. We can do this without their help."
But instead of searching on their own, the Gryffindors doubled back, only to discover that the Slytherins had been trailing them. It would have been almost comedic if tensions- and tempers- weren't so high.
"You're following us?" Mark made their plan sound like a capital crime.
"Like you weren't doing the same," Montague snapped.
"We're not going to do your work for you!" the older Gryffindor yelled. His face was going red.
"Same here," growled Montague. Her arms folded across her chest as she glared at the bulky lion. "Not if our lives depended on it."
…Harry was delusional. There was no way, simply no way, that rivalries this deep-seated could be plucked up by a quintet of third years.
Daphne sighed heavily, scanned the Gryffindors for anyone willing to see reason. They were all riveted on the confrontation between Montague, the Gryffindor whose name she had forgotten, and the false Boy-Who-Lived; in other words, no one.
The girl considered. After a moment's thought, she nodded slightly to herself. She slid behind Emrys, who raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, and whispered the Disillusionment Charm. Her body faded almost to the point of invisibility. Silent as a cat, the Slytherin padded away.
She wished she had more skill in her abilities as an Animagus and a weather witch. A fox could move much more easily through the undergrowth than a young woman could, and better-trained weather witches could sometimes detect the shape of the landscape around them. But though Hermione had found her some excellent books, she lacked a teacher and was therefore very far behind where she should have been. She could predict the weather better than the best meteorologist in the world, but couldn't yet deliberately control it.
The others tried telling her that predicting weather was important, that she was improving by leaps and bounds even without a tutor, but Daphne wasn't quite certain if she believed them.
The Slytherin scowled, shook herself. Moping about her lack of weather witch abilities wasn't going to do her any good. Moping never did anyone any good.
She half-walked, half-jogged through the forest towards the lake. Soon enough she found a small brook. Was it the one hiding the clues? She resolved to walk about a mile upstream. If she hadn't found anything by then, she would seek out another.
It was quite peaceful, really, walking through the forest by herself. She would probably think otherwise if it wasn't for Firenze's strenuous routine, but thanks to the centaur, she was fit enough to make the trek.
Sure enough, Daphne found a stone tablet standing in the water about half a mile upstream.
"How very disappointing," the girl muttered. She had expected the first task to be a bit more… exciting. Or perhaps the excitement was on the tablet itself?
Better safe than sorry. She drew her wand; casting a basic spell detection spell that technically wasn't learned until fourth year but which she had decided to study anyways. Sure enough, the tablet glittered with a weak spell, but what kind of spell? It could have something to do with the tablet's function as a clue, not the defenses around it.
Only one way to find out, Daphne threw a rock from the streambed at the tablet. It bounced without triggering any spells, so the enchantment on the stone probably wasn't defensive in nature.
She approached it with caution anyways. No need to be a fool.
The tablet was smooth as the water in which it stood, too smooth to be entirely natural. It was about one foot across at its widest point, a rounded gray rectangle just over an inch thick. No writing marred its surface, just the faint residual shimmer of the spell.
Apparently figuring out the clue was another task entirely.
Since it didn't seem ready to attack her, Daphne picked up the stone. It was much lighter than it appeared, almost as though it was hollow. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that was the clue.
Daphne shook her head. No need to get ahead of herself. For now, it was enough to retrieve the clue and get back to her teammates before their deadline expired.
It would have been much easier to do so if she hadn't run into a trio of Ravenclaws halfway back to the rest of her group.
Daphne froze. The Ravenclaws froze. One's eyes flickered to the tablet in her hand. "The clue!"
Daphne bolted.
She was larger than two of the other students (not Hermione or Luna, curse it; these were probably the first and fourth year champions), but the eldest was seventeen years old and quite a bit taller than the third year. However, despite her relative shortness, she had a huge advantage over the older student: she could run. She had been trained to do so by Firenze.
And so she ran. Penelope Clearwater sprinted after her. One hand fumbled for her wand.
"Petrifi-"
Daphne grabbed a tree trunk, used it to pivot her around. She dropped the tablet; it flew several feet before hitting the dirt. "Protego!"
Clearwater ignored the Shield Charm. The tablet began to float, powered by her Levitation Charm.
Daphne scowled, cast her own spell. The tablet froze in midair.
But, satisfying as Clearwater's stunned expression was, Daphne's solution was temporary at best. The other Ravenclaws were doubtless approaching full tilt.
So she charged Penelope, knocking her onto the ground. A quick Body-bind ended that threat.
"My apologies," Daphne said. "But your friends will be here shortly." She took back the tablet, recast her Disillusionment Charm, and jogged off to her teammates.
The other Slytherins were still engrossed in their argument with the Gryffindors, if it could still be called an argument. Wands had been drawn, fists bloodied, lips split.
The Daughter of Frost heaved a heartfelt sigh, feeling almost as old as Saysa.
She was tempted to do… something, but what could she do? So, with dragging feet, she trod towards the Great Hall.
Surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs and remaining four Ravenclaws had already arrived. They were waiting tensely at their own tables. When the door swung open to grant Daphne admittance, all eyes swung towards her.
Daphne wondered if she'd lose points for coming in alone. Probably, but hopefully not too many; the stereotypical Slytherin was a loner, reliant on herself and herself alone. The stereotypical Slytherin would have no qualms about abandoning her classmates, striking out on her own. No, she reflected sourly, Dumbledore wouldn't dock too many points for enforcing that stereotype.
Only an hour had passed. Astoria hastened over to her sister's table. "You have to report to Professor Dumbledore now," she explained. "That way he knows what you did and how many points to give you."
"Thank you." Daphne took her sister's advice. She approached the headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore…?"
Their conversation took less than five minutes. It involved a great deal of frowning on Dumbledore's part and neutrality on Daphne's. When she was finished, the Slytherin returned to her own table to wait out the rest of the task.
The second hour stickled past at the speed of molasses in Antarctica. None of Daphne's teammates returned, nor did any of the Gryffindors. The rest of the Ravenclaws showed up with a few minutes to spare, but thirteen people had yet to return.
Finally, the frowning Dumbledore cast two Patroni, one for each team. "A few more minutes," he told the Hall. The students, horribly bored by now (where was the excitement? How were they supposed to see anything when the competitors were traipsing all around the Forbidden Forest and they were in the Great Hall?), mumbled something unintelligible. A few shifted restlessly in their chairs.
Since she had nothing better to do- she wasn't allowed to interact with anyone not on her team until the task was over- Daphne examined the stone tablet. Her fingers ran over it, searching for grooves. Sure enough, she found one on its side. The stone was indeed hollow, and she'd learned how to open it. She wouldn't actually do so until she was out of the Hall- she didn't want anyone else to learn the secret from her- but made a mental note to do so once she was in the safety of the Slytherin dorms.
The Gryffindors and remaining Slytherins slunk in, tails between their legs. Lips had been split, eyes blackened, and Emrys and Philip were limping. They had to lean on Montague for support. But it was clear that the injuries to their bodies didn't sting half as much as the injuries to their pride.
Good, Daphne thought vindictively. She hoped that this would teach them a lesson on the consequences of holding petty grudges.
"Did you get it?" Emrys demanded. He looked even worse up close than he had from a distance. He was one of the few students with both a black eye (two of them, actually) and a split lip. Some of his hairs had been torn from his scalp, and his nose was rather too squashed to be healthy.
"I got it." Daphne touched the stone lying on the chamber. "And I believe I know how to open it." At Emrys's confused look, she explained, "There isn't anything written on it, but I believe it has some kind of message inside." She moved her hand to the groove.
Emrys nodded. "Later, then."
"Of course."
Dumbledore and the four Heads of House rose to their feet. The students, who had been fighting their boredom with inconsequential chatter, quieted. They fixed their gazes upon the men and women in charge of handing out points.
"Hufflepuff was the first team to return," Dumbledore proclaimed, "due to a very clever use of the school brooms, and so they shall be judged first."
Daphne glanced towards Astoria. The younger Greengrass girl's face had gone absolutely white. Daphne made a calming gesture, but her sister didn't see. She was too focused on the headmaster and the three Heads who would judge her. Sprout, being Head of Hufflepuff, was not allowed to grant points to her own House.
McGonagall cast her vote first: nine out of ten points. She smiled tightly at the surprised badgers- they knew how hard it was to get such a good grade out of the stern deputy headmistress- before narrowing her eyes at her own students.
Flitwick granted nine as well; Slughorn only eight. Dumbledore, though, was slightly more generous, giving nine points once again.
The Hufflepuff table cheered raucously, thrilled to have gotten thirty-five points out of forty. Sprout joined the clapping, face bright with pride. Then they quieted, waited for the Ravenclaws to hear their score.
"The Ravenclaws started out near the Black Lake and followed the first two streams they found through the forest. Because they lacked the Hufflepuffs' aerial advantage, one team was attacked by acromantulas; the other got into a fight with another team." Not quite the truth- they'd only gotten into a fight with Daphne, but that was all right with her.
McGonagall granted an eight, Sprout another eight, Slughorn a seven, and Dumbledore another seven. The Ravenclaws cheered, but not quite so loudly as the Hufflepuffs had done. Flitwick shot his students a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile. We'll get them next time, he seemed to promise. But for now, thirty points isn't bad.
"One Slytherin returned third." All eyes flickered towards Daphne. "Miss Greengrass took advantage of a distraction to ensure that she would not be ambushed and found her clue on her own. The other Slytherins, though, had to be called back."
Five from McGonagall. Flitwick and Sprout were kinder, granting six each, but Dumbledore agreed with his deputy. Slytherin had earned only twenty-two points.
But at least they hadn't done as badly as the humiliated Gryffindors. The lions hadn't even gotten into the Forbidden Forest, much less retrieved their goal. They received eight points total, and in the opinion of many, that was far too generous.
"How humiliating," Emrys grumbled as he and the others trekked out of the hall. "We got beaten by Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff. How did that happen?"
"It happened because Gryffindor and Slytherin hate each other," Daphne coolly explained. "I thought that was rather obvious, myself."
Emrys (not to mention Adelbert and Celeste) winced. "I suppose you're right," he admitted grudgingly. Then, changing the subject to something more enjoyable, "Do you have any idea how to open that?"
By this time, they had arrived in the Slytherin dormitories. Many of their Housemates had crowded around, waiting to see the clue.
"You got it, Daphne," Emrys announced. "That means you get to open it."
Daphne nodded, face serene, but inside she was gloating. Emrys was (by default if nothing else) the team leader; he was the oldest and most experienced, and he was well-respected in Slytherin House. By giving her permission to open the clue, by praising her in front of the others, he had greatly increased Daphne's own prestige and, indirectly, the prestige of her cause.
Very gently, she drew her wand, pointed it at the tablet. "Apere," she intoned.
The tablet opened.
A voice filled the Common Room. Neither male nor female, young nor old, it spread to every crack and crevasse in the chamber, filling each and every ear.
Seven champions and seven banes,
Each champion clad in chains:
One as mole and bat and night,
One trembling in skittish fright,
One immune to mandrake's scream,
One can't be woken from a dream,
One who can't at all be heard,
One who knows not even one word,
Unite to save the final one,
The stolen, sleeping champion.
Choose wisely ere the task is nigh,
Or do not bother even to try.
Why, you might ask, was this task so... lame? Part of it is, surprisingly, canon- the 2nd and 3rd tasks of GoF involved staring at a lake for an hour and watching a maze. The other part is that the tasks aren't the main focus of my book, so I didn't want to spend five chapters describing each one.
-Antares