Year Four: The Goblet of Fire
The three magical schools of Europe compete for eternal glory in the form of the Triwizard Tournament. Death Eaters are rising, gathering followers to join Voldemort. Dark times are approaching, threatening everything Marie loves. It's time for bravery. To be the light in terrible darkness...
Chapter Nine-The Crocodile Woman
When Marie gave the password and the hidden stone door slid open, she was almost thrown back by the amount of noise the boomed when her fellow Housemates spotted her. Several hands pulled her into the common room and Graham Montague, a burly upperclassman and Chaser who was never particularly fond of Marie as a Quidditch player, suddenly hoisted her up onto his right shoulder for everyone to see, encouraging the clapping and whistling. She could only stare in shock as every Slytherin tried to shake her hand or clap her on the back at once when her feet touched the floor again.
"Way to go, Rogue!"
"Potter doesn't stand a bloody chance!"
"Only a fourth year-you must really be something!"
"About time we get our chance to shine!"
"Those other schools don't stand a chance!" whooped Lucian Bole, dealing Marie an enthusiastic high five that left her hand stinging.
"But-I didn't-I mean, I didn't put my name in-" she tried to explain.
"Excellent work, really brilliant!" said Gemma Farley, the new female Prefect for the year. "Can't believe you got past the Age Line! How did you do it?"
"I-I didn't-"
Pansy came out from nowhere and tackled Marie in a hug, her arms snagging her around the neck. She was equal parts thrilled and miffed as she squeezed her friend tightly. "Why didn't you tell me you put your name in? I wouldn't have told!"
"But I didn't-" Marie was caught off as clapping broke out again as Peregrine Derrick and Miles Bletchley returned to the common room with armfuls of food brought back from the kitchen. As food and drinks were passed around, the fourth year couldn't get a word in edgewise. It was simpler to accept the congratulations, smile and nod. Although she was caught by surprise when Draco managed to push his way through the throng of students and picked her up in a hug, spinning her with the effort and when he put her down, his blonde hair was slightly mussed from shoving his way to get to her.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me! You brilliant girl, I could kiss you!" he exclaimed. Face flushed from the overwhelming attention, she managed to grab her friend by his robes and tug him away from the celebrating students. She tried to create as much distance as she could, pulling him to the far wall near the window that peered out into the black lake. They nearly stumbled into the small side table that held a simple vase, the taller student steering them away.
"What's wrong?" he asked, breathless. "You don't look excited."
"Draco, I didn't put my name in the goblet!" she told him, voice daring to rise in pitch.
The excitement faded quickly from his face. "What?"
"I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire," she repeated. "And neither did Harry for that matter."
"Of course Potter didn't, he's an idiot," he scoffed. "But if you didn't put your name in, how did it get there?" The girl opened and closed her mouth soundlessly as she shook her head, stunned as well.
"I...I don't know..." she managed. Her sense of proper speech returned to her as the words came spilling out, panic becoming evident. "And this whole ordeal is a magically binding contract so that no one can back out, and the other schools are furious with Dumbledore, and Harry, but not so much with me because I think they may not see me as a threat-but then Moody was telling how someone might be plotting to kill Harry, because simply being in this tournament isn't enough-and Karkaroff made a foul assumption that I had somehow persuaded an older student to put our names in-like I planned this out, for two fourth year students as a kind of team for Hogwarts-and I'm not entirely sure if Snape even believes me for that matter-"
The nearby vase started to crack and Draco clapped his hand over the rambling girl's mouth to silence the onslaught of worry and words. When he was sure she was going to stay quiet, he removed his hand, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath from talking without properly pausing.
"Okay, I get it," he said. "But we'll get through it, alright? And we can have a good laugh about it later. You've got all of us on your side." He gestured to the whole common room that was celebrating and bursting with energy. He was right, every person bearing the green and silver tie was supporting her, and happy that she was chosen. Glancing to the side, Marie could see a figure leaning against the edge of the fireplace's mantle, not joining in the festivities. Feeling the need to explain herself, she found her feet leading her toward the seventh year. His scowl was enough to put anyone off the idea of talking to him but she approached him anyway.
"Marcus, I-"
He pushed off from the mantle and strode past her without a single glance, hands in his pockets and glare set. Her voice died in her throat. She turned around to watch him march off toward the boy's dormitory, Draco sharing her same look of disbelief. Guilt slammed into her chest as tears stung the back of her eyes. She couldn't even hear the celebration as she disappeared to her own dormitory, feeling even less like a champion.
On Sunday, Marie had kept to herself, only leaving the dormitory to send Remus a letter with her owl, that formerly belonged to Tess, Sebastian. The owl was thrilled with the job as he was bored without Tess and her constant letters and job. She wrote down everything that had happened: The tournament, her name being called as well as Harry's, Karkaroff, and the impending task that would challenge their daring and nerve. Beside that, she didn't feel up to meals and simply worked on homework up in the girl's fourth year dormitory.
Once the school week had begun, it was literally impossible to ignore the stares. Eyes followed her everywhere she went, as she ate, and she could even feel them on her when she was reading. There was whispering as well, an air of distrust about them. The school was divided between their two champions, both clearly under seventeen and not only that, but they were from completely opposite Houses. Slytherin for Marie and Gryffindor for Harry. The two Houses were renown for crashing heads in every opportunity of competition and this was no different. Typically, the majority tended to side with Gryffindor, especially during Quidditch, but the situation was different. Pansy had explained it to her when she asked. The other students were unsure since Marie had been chosen as the champion for Hogwarts, being selected, for some reason, over other Houses and students, while Harry was breaking all of the rules by existing as a fourth and unfair champion. Slytherin was properly chosen while Gryffindor was forcing themselves into the tournament.
Instead of being around her friends or wandering off on her own, which was entirely normal, other people had started to hover near her. Younger students even followed her about while she was in the library one day. When she turned around to ask what they doing, they pretended to looking through the shelves. She had taken a seat at her usual table which she preferred as it was slightly away from the bustle of everything but not too far that she could forget time entirely. Opening her Defense Against the Dark Arts text, she tried to focus on the words, but it was becoming increasingly difficult when she could hear the group of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls whispering to each other just on the other side of the bookcase across from her. After another bout of suppressed giggling, she closed her book and grabbed her bag, stalking off further into the library.
Finally finding a table, she was mildly disappointed when it already had an occupant. Viktor Krum had just set his bag down and took a seat. As it was the back of the library, Marie took a breath and stepped up to him.
"Do you mind if I sit here too?" she asked. There was a new group of whispering just a little bit away and he turned to look with a sigh. Marie gave a sympathetic smile. "Are you hiding too?" He nodded.
"I thought they would haff to be quiet," he grumbled. She set her own bag down a few seats away from him and took her seat, reopening her text.
"I'm hoping Madame Pince will hear them. She'll clear them out," she tried. The Bulgarian simply nodded and settled with rummaging through his bag. Content with the lack of conversation, Marie peacefully resumed reading.
Unfortunately, the moment did not last as long as she would have liked as Viktor soon gathered his bag and stood up. She wouldn't have given it as much thought except that she could feel him looking at her. Green eyes glanced up questioningly from her book to see that he was indeed staring.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Aren't you coming?" he asked. She raised a quizzical brow.
"Where to?"
"Ve haff the meeting vith Mr. Bagman for the veighing of vands today," he explained. "Photographs and articles for the Daily Prophet as vell, I believe."
"What? I had no idea," she gasped, stuffing her book back into her bag. Taking the cue, the Bulgarian took the lead and Marie hurried to catch up, earning stares as they passed the other students in the library. Madame Pince sent them a disapproving glare as they were responsible for the whispering.
The walk was silent between the two and that was perfectly all right with the Slytherin. Viktor Krum did not strike her as particarly chatty on a good day and she wasn't quite up for a lengthy conversation anyway. It didn't take long for him to lead them to an empty classroom on the second floor. The chairs and tables and had been magicked aside leave the room as open as possible with the exception of a few chairs. There was a camera man, Mr. Ludo Bagman, and a blonde witch dressed in magenta. Fleur Delacour was standing beside Madame Malkin and Karkaroff hurried forward to drag Viktor away from the Hogwarts representative. Feeling awkward, Marie looked around for Dumbledore or Harry but neither were to be seen. Upon looking toward everyone again, she was face to face with the magenta witch, startling her.
"Oh! Hello," she managed. The woman smiled and shook her hand tightly as she introduced herself.
"Hello. I'm Rita Skeeter, writer for the Daily Prophet." Marie nodded in recognition.
"Oh, yes, I've read a few of your articles," she commented. It was true, Rita Skeeter was a rather vocal writer. It was almost impossible to ignore her articles, with her incriminating photographs and attention grabbing titles. Rita corrected a lock of stiff curls while giving a smile. For such a friendly expression, she reminded the girl more of a crocodile, every move calculated.
"How lovely to hear! I do love meeting my readers. Might I have a few words before the pictures? Just to get a champion's input on the whole tournament ordeal," she asked. Marie looked about quickly for her Headmaster, unsure.
"Well, I-"
"Perfect!" Rita wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders, a gesture that should have been comforting but it was off set by her long nails digging into her arm as she steered her toward the back of the room. The nails were graciously long and bright red, resembling more of a harpy than a fashion statement. With a wave of her wand, two of the chairs were summoned from the edges of the room, set facing each other. Skeeter forced Marie into the seat, not exactly gently, and then took the opposite seat, crossing her legs over each other as she took a long look from behind her jeweled glasses. Feeling scrutinized and overly aware of her hair, Marie sat up as straight as she could, hands placed nicely in her lap.
"Marie Rogue," sighed Rita, looking absolutely pleased. She took out an acid green quill and a roll of parchment, both of which floated of their own accord. "You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you Marie? It allows me to talk to you freely. Woman to woman."
"I suppose not..." trailed Marie, watching the quill scribble away already. What was there to write? She hadn't asked any questions yet.
"Don't mind the quill, dear," she chided, and Marie looked forward to the woman instead. "So tell me, Marie, what made you decide to enter the tournament, and at such a young age? Was it the glory? The danger?"
She shook her head immediately. "Oh no, I didn't put my name for the tournament. I'm not interested in glory or anything of that sort." Rita gave a sagely nod, crimson colored nails interlacing with each other to create a support for her chin as she leaned forward.
"Could this be your way of coping with Tess Andrews' death? To follow in her footsteps?" she continued. "She was the champion for Hogwarts during the last tournament and should be here to consult the champions and cheer on her school. Of course, none of this never came to light due to her savage murder, sadly."
The spell sent Remus crashing but it only stalled him for a moment as he was back on his feet. Marie gave a scream as the werewolf's teeth sank into Tess' side. Tess seemed hardly bothered, sending a sharp green jet into his eye, forcing him to howl and release her for the moment. She tried to magic a set of ropes to bind him, and he resisted, the binds snapping under his strength.
"Remus, please!" begged Marie, still pounding on the door that wouldn't yield to her. "Stop!"
Marie had to force herself to take a deep breath in through her nose so to keep her composer. It wasn't the first time a vivid memory had forced itself to the front of her mind at the mention of Tess' death. Rita smirked at her moment of silence, glancing over to her quill. The Slytherin lifted her chin as she gave her answer, doing her best to smother the recollection of blood, teeth and death.
Dozens of claw marks were visible as they ripped her clothes, the leg of her pinstriped pants, her matching vest and white blouse. She was doused in red and dripping onto the floor as she moved...
"If Tess could make it through then so can I," she answered as collected as she could manage.
"You're not at all worried about the other champions? Students older than yourself and with years more experience," encouraged Rita. "Not to mention the additional competition of the famous Harry Potter."
Marie had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the awe behind her brother's name.
"The first task calls upon our nerve and daring," she said. "Age and experience will be incredibly useful, but they're not the deciding factors."
Rita gave a smirk, intrigued. "Tell me, Marie, with your guardian gone and no real family to call your own, how do you feel about the upcoming challenges? Alone? With two champions for Hogwarts, perhaps unsupported? It must be difficult to find supporters when your inter-school competition is Harry Potter."
Before she could even consider giving her answer, the door was opened and Harry was ushered inside by Colin Creevy, who then gave a thumbs up and became scarce. Skeeter's interview was then ended as she fixed her gaze on Harry, leaving the Slytherin alone. With a sigh, Marie returned the chairs to their spots and walked back to the center to join the others. It was soon just the three champions once more as Rita snagged Harry and dragged him off to the nearby broom closet.
"What did she ask?" questioned Fleur with a flick of her silver blonde hair. Marie gave a noncommittal shrug. Madame Maxime was watching her carefully.
"Not much really. She mostly wanted to talk about Harry," she told her. Fleur gave a huff and crossed her arms. She was clearly still very unhappy about Harry's part in the tournament.
"'E iz unecessary. A fourth champion," she commented sourly. Marie only gave an awkward nod, unsure of how to answer. She settled with staying quiet.
Thankfully the wait wasn't long as Professor Dumbledore entered the room at long last, accompanied by another older man who Marie recognized as the wand maker, Mr. Ollivander. The camera man got to his feet while Bagman bounded up to greet everyone. He gave a beaming smile and a wink to Fleur and Marie as he shook everyone's hand.
"Excellent! Now that everyone's here we can snap a few photos for the Prophet and you can be on your way. Just a bit of publicity to get the fans at hime ready," he explained, smiling still. "One, two, three...say, where did Harry go? I could've sworn I just saw him..."
Marie pointed to the broom cupboard and Dumbledore raised a silver brow in speculation. "Rita Skeeter's interviewing him," she answered his unasked question.
"In a broom cupboard?" asked Dumbledore. Marie nodded.
"Yes, sir."
He made a small amused noise. "How peculiar." He then strode over and opened the door, revealing the cramped forms of Rita Skeeter and Harry. The boy hurried away from the woman as fast as he could. Marie couldn't help but smirk, happy that his interview was equally unpleasant as hers. The dark haired boy was quick to stand on the far side of the Slytherin, so to create some solid distance between himself and the reporter.
"Are you hiding behind me, Harry?" asked Marie, doing her best not to laugh. He flushed slightly but remained where he was.
"I'm hoping she'll see you and leave me alone," he explained. "You're a fourth year, so she should be interested in you." This time, she did laugh softly.
"Sorry, she already spoke to me. Though it seems she only has eyes for you," she whispered. Indeed, Rita's sharp eyes were watching Harry like he was her next meal. He swallowed uncomfortably.
"There we are, all four champions!" announced Bagman, happily looking about. "Now we can proceed with the wand weighing-"
"Wand weighing?" repeated Harry, confusion evident.
"We have to make sure that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," Bagman explained. He gestured to woman. "And this is Rita Skeeter and she'll be doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet-"
"Well, maybe not that small, Ludo," she warned, eyes hungrily watching Harry. The boy shifted so to be more hidden by the Slytherin. Marie sighed and allowed it, quietly enjoying her moment of protecting him from the Skeeter woman.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, waving toward the older man beside him as he took a seat. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping toward the center between officials and champions.
Fleur swept over toward the wandmaker with grace, drawing a light colored wand from within her robes and handing it over.
"Hmmm..." He twirled the wand between his fingers and it gave off gold and pink sparks. He then brought it up close to his eyes. "Yes...nine and half inches...inflexible...rosewood...and containing...dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," explained Fleur with pride, her head held high. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
So she was part veela. That would explain the unnerving beauty and influence over boys she weilded.
"Yes," agreed Mr. Ollivander. "Yes, I've never used veela hair, of course. I find it makes for rather tempermental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you..." He ran his fingers over it to check for surface damage.
"Orchideous!" A bunch of deep violet flowers bloomed from the tip of the wand. He returned the wand and flowers to the Beauxbatons champion. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," he cleared. "Miss Rogue, you're next."
Stepping forward, Marie drew her own beloved wand and placed it in Mr. Ollivander's well worn hands. A smile appeared as he studied the wand.
"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Marie gave a nod and smile. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single feather from a phoenix that I had to track halfway across Egypt before it would grant me a single feather...ten and three quarter inches...hazel...hard..." He ran his hand over the wand, eyes closed. Then he gave a smile. Without any incantation, he produced a stream of silver smoke rings before returning it to her.
"Excellent condition, Miss Rogue," he said. "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Marie stepped back, running her own fingers over her well loved wand. She remembered when she got her wand, three years ago in Diagon Alley. She had spent the whole summer working for Madame Malkin, her first year there, and on her way to the Magical Menagerie to visit her future cat, Happy, she would stop by and gaze at the windows of Ollivander's Wands. Then, at long last, she received her letter and Remus had taken her to pick up her school supplies and a wand was the first thing on the list.
She remembered being terrified when she stepped into the dusty shop, walls lined with infiinite wand boxes. What if she didn't find a wand? What if none took a liking to her? Then Mr. Ollivander appeared from behind a large bookcase that stretched to the ceiling, wide pale eyes locking on her. He pulled numerous wands for her to try but it was when he drew the sixth wand when they struck gold. The moment the hazel wand embedded with a phoenix's feather touched her hand, Marie knew it was hers. Warmth filled and the air was stirred around the room as the magic caused an updraft through the opened window and Mr. Ollivander had smiled."And the window watcher becomes the witch..."
"Hmmm, this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I...however..." Ollivander brought Krum's wand to eye level. "Yes...hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" Krum nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees...quite rigid...ten and quarter inches...Avis!"
The wand gave off a blast and group of small twittering birds exploded from the end and flew out of the open window, disappearing from view. "Good," decided Ollivander, handing the wand back to Krum. "Which leaves...Mr. Potter."
Harry left Marie's side and ventured forward to hand over his wand. Ollivander's pale eyes brightened considerably at the sight. "Aaaaah, yes. Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
The Slytherin found the reaction quite odd as the wand-maker studied the wand. There was a strange twinkle to his eye that implied there was something special. "Eleven inches...holly...phoenix feather core...nice and supple..." After the basic description, he still spent the most time studying Harry's before finally making a fountain of wine spout from the end and declare it in perfect condition.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat. "As the lessons are ending, perhaps it would be easier to head down to dinner-"
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" reminded Bagman, jumping to his feet. "We can't forget that now, can we?"
"And perhaps some individual shots?" suggested Rita Skeeter, eyes finding Harry again. This time, Marie stepped to the side to block her view of him.
With a collective sigh, everyone was shuffled around into a group so to take the photo. The arrangement was tricky as Madame Maxime was quite large and she cast everyone into her shadow with her height, not to mention that the camera man couldn't back up far enough to get her entirely in the frame. In the end, she ended up having to sit while the rest stood around her. The school leaders lined the back while the champions stood in front in a type of half circle formation. Fleur and Harry were at opposite ends while Marie and Viktor remained toward the center. The photographer clearly wanted Fleur to be more pronounced but Rita was causing equal amounts of fussing as she tried to pull Harry into the center of the shot. The Slytherin and Bulgarian shared a look and a sigh as the adults fussed over the part veela and the famous Harry Potter.
"Do you ever get used to this?" Marie asked softly. He sighed again.
"Never."
Finally, the arrangement was settled with everyone being equally visible and Marie was very aware of the fact that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry when Hermione's words from the end of last year came back to haunt her.
"It's impossible to ignore how similar you look when you're together, you know."
The camera flashed.
REVIEW! Goodness, all this writing is tiring but I'm trying to stay good and not fall off the face of the earth in regards to writing. Your thoughts would be lovely as always, readers, I'm always excited when you're excited and I'm excited about writing all of this and wow, there's a lot of excitement going on! (how many times did I use that word, 4ish? Sounds good)
PS: Marie's wand is the result she got on Pottermore when I entered her character, she is not connected to Harry's wand at all.
Rita Skeeter, photographs, and Marcus acting oddly (again). So much for a quiet fourth year!
Next time: Tick tock, almost time to test your nerve and daring...
I hope you enjoyed!