Impstar: Jen's attitude is a problem, which was kind of my point. It should have been clear before now, but her three major character flaws are that she's short-tempered, she's stubborn, and she's arrogant. When the Sorting Hat wanted her to lower her shields, she did what stubborn and arrogant people the world over do: she crossed her arms and said "Make me." And Hogwarts did.
Armacrys: Ugh, I hate the songs, too. Reading what few descriptions there are in the books and watching the movies, I believe that Hogwarts was built to resemble a castle rather than be a castle; it's missing several of the defenses that castles from that period had. As for the basilisk, it was left there by one of the Founders, so the, um, intelligence of Hogwarts may have ignored it. Of course, Dumbledore appeared on the scene for the petrifications pretty quickly, so it may have informed him that a student was injured.
These are just a few guesses. If you can't tell, that scene was all the muse's work. All I can say is that it looks to be part of a subplot that I'm still uncovering.
The Mad Mad Reviewer: My thought is that it takes a really powerful shield to even notice what the Hat's doing. Jen, who runs a third of her total magical output through her brain before it exits her body, is one of the only people in the world who has a shield that strong. Don't worry, Jen bows before Jamie Evans's greatness.
Penny is wise: This is the first time the Hat has ever had to sort someone like Jen. As for being allowed, its only purpose is Sorting new students, so why wouldn't it do what it needed to do to fulfill that purpose?
Disclaimer: Did everyone just accept that Dumbledore often sounded like he was completely insane without giving him a full psychological workup? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
Chapter 11
Announcements
Jen swept the Sorting Hat off her head with a slight sigh. That was not at all what she expected to happen, but at least she was in Ravenclaw. She rose from the stool and made her way over to the table full of clapping students, sitting in an empty space between a pair of witches.
The old wizard in the center of the table stood, and she could almost feel the anger rolling off of him. "Please, tuck in," he said in a clipped voice, then he erected a soundproof charm around himself and McGonagall. While she was curious about what they were saying, modifying the spell he had used would require getting much closer to the arguing pair or making her actions very obvious. As long as it doesn't affect me negatively, I suppose it really doesn't make much of a difference, she thought to herself.
"Hey," the girl to her left said in a Scottish brogue. "I'm Morag MacDougal."
"And I'm Padma Patil," said the girl to her right.
"Jen Black." The requisite introductions over, she gathered several of the nearby dishes to her and added their contents to her plate. Pork chops, mashed potato, a vegetable medley; while she was sure Kreacher could have cooked them better, she had to give the castle's house-elves credit for making a decent meal for the several hundred students attending the feast.
"So," Morag began after loading her own dishes, "how come you didn't come here until this year?"
Jen hastily swallowed her mouthful of food, thinking hard of how best to answer the question. She had revealed to Tracey that she was blind, and Luna had mentioned it to everyone in their compartment, but she didn't wish to have the whole school know about her disability. Amongst other things, her moving around without resorting to compensation techniques such as a cane or trailing her hand along a wall would invite numerous questions, questions she didn't have a ready answer for that would keep her out of Azkaban.
"A couple of reasons, none of which I am comfortable sharing at present, I'm afraid."
"Oh, well that makes sense. I was just curious," Morag said sheepishly.
Knowing that she needed alliances, and unsure of where the MacDougal family was located in Britain's hierarchy, she decided to extend an olive branch. "Perfectly understandable. When we have known each other for longer, maybe I will be more inclined to tell you; it's just very personal, you see." This was acceptable to the girl if the nod she received was any indication, so she turned to her Indian neighbor. "McGonagall informed me that I would need to meet with our head of house sometime soon. Can you point him out for me?"
"Sure, Professor Flitwick's the short man sitting near the end of the table."
Feeling where Padma was pointing, she found the teacher in question. His core was steadier than that of anyone else in the room, only changing size slightly and providing a sensation much like a warm stone would. "He isn't entirely human, is he?"
"Nope," Morag provided, "he's part goblin, though I don't remember if it's half or fourth. He used to be a professional dueler, and I heard that his stature made him very hard to hit."
"I'll keep that in mind if I ever get the bright idea to try my wand against him," she said with a grin, one that was replicated on the other's faces. She raised her goblet to her lips and took a sip, only to force herself not to spit the vile concoction out. She swallowed with difficulty. "What the bloody hell is this?"
"Pumpkin juice," Padma said with a frown. "Haven't you ever had any before?"
"No, and the Baron bless me that I might never have it again. Is there any way I can get some plain water?" No sooner had the words left her mouth than her cup was taken from her grasp and replaced by another. A cautious sniff revealed no odor, and her tongue verified that it was, in fact, just cold water.
Talk after that was diminished due to their shared need for sustenance, Jen being particularly ravenous. Once the last of the desserts had been demolished, the man she now knew was Dora's acclaimed Albus Dumbledore stood, this time all smiles.
"So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices." What followed was enough evidence of the Headmaster's insanity for her to become quite worried about her own safety. 437 magical artifacts banned from the castle? That over four hundred items, none of the examples of which were all that dangerous, were banned by a squib was amusing to the wizened old fart if the emotion he was broadcasting was any judge. And a forest whose seemingly only purpose was to be forbidden? Yes, tell the idiot children that they can't go somewhere; the only thing that was in question was how long it took one of the first years to be pressured by his or her peers into spending the night there.
God, if this is what Siri meant when he said Hogwarts was safe, then let's hope that I never have a dangerous year!
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." That statement shut down all conversation, though it wasn't long before a rumble of displeasure began building in the quiet air. "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teacher's time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"
His words were cut off by the storm overhead sounding off with a particularly loud crack of thunder, followed by the doors to the Hall flying open once more. A man stepped in, one who was in drastic need of a good plastic surgeon. Every inch of his face was covered in scar tissue, and his eyes were mismatched in size. A second 'glance' showed Jen that his left eye was actually a magical prosthesis, one that moved independently of his real eye and transmitted what it saw through a mental connection to its wearer. His right leg was also a replacement, enchanted oak wood if she didn't miss her guess, and carved into a clawed foot reminiscent of a dragon's. The strange and ugly man limped over to the staff table, exchanged a few words with Dumbledore, and sat down to eat from a plate of sausages that had just appeared before him.
Dumbledore apparently couldn't let silence be present for more than a few seconds. "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody." The old goat and a giant of a man both clapped, but she noticed that none of the other staff or students joined in; the two oddballs ceased their greetings quickly. "As I was saying, we have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" shouted a member of the Lions' House, and there were murmurs and laughter around the room as other students agreed with the sentiments. Jen, for her part, was silent, attempting to recall where she had read about this Tournament. It sounded so familiar…
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," so that was one of the infamous Prankster Twins, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."
McGonagall cleared her throat, catching Dumbledore's attention and dragging him from what would likely be a convoluted train of thought, ending with a story about how much better everything had been when he was a boy. "Er, but maybe this is not the time… no… Where was I?"
Yep, the Headmaster is senile. Wonderful.
"Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."
Personally, Jen was tempted to do that herself even if she couldn't remember what she had read about it. Her curiosity won out, though, and she listened absently to the short overview the man gave about two other magical schools, dangerous tasks, and using students as unpaid diplomats to foster some mutual goodwill between the antagonistic Ministries. Her mind finally latched onto Dumbledore's words when he mentioned the high death toll.
Yes, that's what I read about the Tournament. The last one was held at Beauxbatons in 1865, and the first task was a simultaneous event that pitted the schools' champions against each other in a race to see who could subdue a giant the fastest. Needless to say, the giant won.
"In a departure from tradition, however, the departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Sports and Games, as well as the administrators of the other schools and I, have decided to widen the field a little for all of you." There was a hush as the students waited in anticipation for the Headmaster's announcement. "Where normally there would be only three champions, this year there will be six."
"Six champions?" asked an older Ravenclaw a few seats removed from Jen. "Can they do that?"
Dumbledore clapped his hands to regain the crowd's attention. "Each school will have both a senior and junior champion. The seniors must all be of age – that is, seventeen years or older – while the junior must be at least fourteen and no older than sixteen. This means that those of you who are already of age cannot have two opportunities at becoming a champion. Junior champions will be given additional aid to compensate for the difficulty and danger they may not be prepared for. You see," the old man paused dramatically, "all champions will face the same tasks, no matter their age."
That certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons. We don't even know what the prize is, and already everyone is debating whether they have what it takes to win. For all the hype, the victor had better get a king's ransom.
"I will personally be ensuring that no student attempts to hoodwink the impartial judge we will be bringing here into making them a champion in a category they are not eligible for. I therefore beg you not to waste your time.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of the year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champions when they are selected. And now, it is late, and—"
He was cut off as McGonagall waved him to come closer. They held a whispered conversation, after which Dumbledore straightened again and gave all the student's an embarrassed expression. "Ah, I seem to have forgotten to mention what the winners will get. The schools' champions will be competing for the magnificent Triwizard Cup, glory for their school, and one thousand galleons prize money each."
While the students around her were whooping and cheering, Jen could only gape at the Headmaster in shock. That's it? We're supposed to risk life and limb for only a thousand galleons? To be honest, for most people that amount of money could be a life-changing amount of money, but it was not enough to compensate for any crippling injuries should a champion be crippled in the arena. That it wasn't a drop in the bucket compared to the fortune the Black family possessed only reinforced her decision. Well, at least I know I won't be competing. I have better things to do than waste my time with this fiasco.
"Now it is bedtime, and you will need your sleep for classes tomorrow. Chop chop!"
Jen stood with the rest of the students and heard one of the older students, likely a prefect, call for all the first years to come to him. She turned to Morag and Padma only to find that they had already begun walking out of the Great Hall. Shrugging, she followed after them; they would know where the other students in her year would be. She expected the prefect would be telling the first years where the classes would be and how to reach their dorms, information she could gain just as easily from careful observation and personal exploration.
She had almost caught up to them when the whirling dervish that was Luna popped up behind her. "Well, that was an interesting speech. What did you think about it, Jen?"
"Somehow, I have no trouble believing that the Wizarding World still revels in blood sport. Depending on how many tasks there are this time around, I may have to find somewhere hidden and quiet to do my research."
"So you won't be entering your name in as the junior champion?"
Jen scoffed. "Of course not. What would be the point in doing that? I will have enough difficulty reorganizing my study schedule to allow time for the homework that I have to do."
"Hmm. Don't count your dragons before they hatch; you just might want to participate, after all."
She did not like how Luna had phrased that rebuttal, but she nodded and let the matter drop. She was not a Seer, after all; she did not know what the future held, though she doubted anything would happen that necessitated her altering her decision.
"Perhaps." She cast her attention around her, searching for a change in topic, when she noticed that all the other Ravenclaws were heading in more or less the same direction. "I take it that this is the route to our common room."
Luna nodded. "Yes, we are in one of the towers with a bronze door-knocker shaped like an eagle protecting the way in. The other common rooms have guardians who require a password, but he asks a riddle, and if you don't answer it correctly, he won't let you inside."
"That… seems like a security risk, quite frankly. What is stopping some random student from finding the tower and guessing the right answer?"
"Oh, that's rather easy, actually. Alfred, that's my name for the eagle, doesn't ask questions that just anyone can guess, and he only gives you one chance to answer, so the people who can get in on their own are generally the kind of people we'd let in, anyway. Come on, I'll introduce you to him!" Linking their arms, she increased her speed to a run, moving into a passage that was hidden behind a tapestry.
Password-protected doors? Secret passageways in the walls? I'll need a bloody talking map if it's this complicated just finding my way from the Great Hall to the dorm!
Dumbledore's placid facade shattered the instant he closed the door to his office behind him. He sank into his chair and buried his head in his hands, the cries of his phoenix familiar, Fawkes, doing little to soothe his despair and fear. What have they done? And how; I used the most obscure spell I could find to make sure that the Potter girl would be a squib. Don't they know that their actions will spell out our doom?
No, of course they don't. They didn't hear the warning from Fate. Should I reveal the Prophecy to them, show them how dangerous that girl is? He pondered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, before discarding the idea. They wouldn't accept it; they'll think I'm losing my mind, worrying about one untrained witch. No one can know, though it will just make my task harder.
Is there still time to turn her to the Light? Everyone deserves the opportunity to redeem themselves, even her. He perked up at that thought. With her heritage and destiny, she would be an incredibly powerful chess piece – a queen, even – if he could but convince her to deny her innate evil. And if I cannot, no matter; she may be powerful in the future, but she is nothing more than an inexperienced child at the moment, whereas I am not.
Yes, I shall extend one hand in friendship while holding my wand in the other, just in case. After all, who defended the world against Gellert, who held off Tom's assault until Danny destroyed his body? Just as I protected the witches and wizards of Britain then, I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, will prevent the horrors Jenny Potter seeks to visit upon us now, one way or another.
Jen took in the size of her room. Normally, Ravenclaw students slept in pairs, but Mandy Brocklehurst was quite comfortable living with Su Li and Lisa Turpin, which left her an entire room all to herself. Not that she was complaining; if she was forced to share a room with another person, there would have to be a condition guaranteeing her some naked, sweaty fun.
"Well," she said to herself, "let's see what I can do with this place." The first wave of her hand forced the beds together, making a frame the same size as the one she slept on in Grimmauld Place. A second melded the mattresses together, and a third did the same to the curtains. She was about to tackle the next chore when she heard a rapping on her window; opening it let in a wet, bedraggled, and very displeased raven.
She grabbed him and pulled him close in her arms, magicking the water and cold off of him. "Oh, Loki, I'm sorry. I didn't have the chance to call you back down with Luna dragging me all over the castle."
Her apologies were apparently not enough for the bird, for he sharply pecked at her ear, drawing blood, before he dropped her shrunken luggage into her hand and flew to the top of the short bookcase to glare reproachfully at her. She frowned back but did not bother scolding him; his condition was her fault, after all. Enlarging the satchel, she repeated her actions from when she first moved to her new home, though this time there were far more clothes that soared into the wardrobe, and her ritual kit and books lay on top of the flat desk rather than find niches to fit into.
In clear view is not a safe place to keep those, she thought. There were several drawers for storing supplies, and she found one that was just deep enough for her illegal belongings. Keeping them from sight was a good start, but there were no locks on the doors, and even if there were, she expected that the staff likely had complete access to any student's possessions. She would have to protect her kit with magic in addition to deception.
She would not need extra power for this. It was a simple matter of warding a single cabinet, thankfully; widening her connection twice this night was already dancing on the edge of destruction, and a third occurrence posed entirely too much risk. She raised her hands and held them out to the desk, gathering the currents of magic that ran through the room. First she flicked one finger, then another, and soon her hands were twisting as if she was directing the actions of a stage full of marionettes. The magic in the room gained a distinct ozone smell as some of it curled and weaved around the desk before shrinking down to surround the drawer she was interested in. With a final tug, she tightened the minor paling into an oblong shape, one that more or less conformed to the cabinet's outer surface.
That will have to do, she supposed, taking in the freestanding ward's structure and rigidity. She moved her kit into the drawer and laid another charm on top of it, one that would prevent anyone from paying attention to it. Satisfied that her defenses would work in the short term, she arranged Loki's perch for when he eventually forgave her, stripped off her clothing, and crawled into bed. It had been a long day, after all.
Much of Dumbledore's speech comes directly from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, first American edition. A lot of this is stuff you already know, and I'm sorry about that, but I hope Jen's commentary at least kept you entertained.
By the way, does no one else think that pumpkin juice would probably taste absolutely terrible? I enjoy pumpkin pie and toasted pumpkin seeds to a degree, but based on what the raw flesh tastes like, I'm not going to drink its juice.
Silently Watches out.