AUTHORS NOTE! :P
Hello my faithful readers :) And here is the newest chapter! Hope everyone enjoys!
Now to answer some reviews...
SevLoverKat: Haha you'll just have to read to find out :D
Max artemis potter: I guess we'll find out in a few chapters...
AnikaandAj: I agree, but I prefer him in the last book :)
Okay, and thanks to everyone else that reviewed! Enjoy the cookies and butterbeer :P
-Rach ;)
Max's POV
The carriage pulled us through the gates, flanked by statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive, swaying dangerously in the wind. Leaning against the window, I was able to make out the high turrets of the castle, the many lighted windows blurred in the heavy rain. Lightening flashed across the sky, illuminating the Forbidden Forest that was on the edge of the school grounds.
Our carriage came to a halt in front of the giant oak doors. People who had been in the carriages in front of us were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Me, Harry, Hermione, Fang, Iggy, Ron and Nudge jumped out of our carriage and ran quickly up the steps, only looking up and slowing down where we were safely inside the huge, lantern lit Entrance Hall.
"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head and sending water into my face. "If that keeps up all night the lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked- ARRGGH!"
A large red water balloon dropped down from the ceiling and landed on Ron's head, exploding. I was standing beside Ron, so I got hit with loads of water as well, but not as much as Ron. Sputtering, I wiped at my eyes to get rid of water, and looked up to see a second water balloon falling towards us. This one landed on Fang's head, soaking him to the skin, and drenching Harry's shoes.
People started shrieking and pushing to get away from the line of fire. I looked up again, in case another water balloon was about to hit us, but instead I saw Peeves the Poltergeist, cackling madly and aiming to throw another water balloon, this one directed at the mass of fifth-year Hufflepuff girls that had just walked into the Entrance Hall.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice, "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"
Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop her from falling.
"Oh, I am sorry Miss Granger," she said.
"That's quite alright, Professor!" Hermione said, massaging her throat, alarmed.
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" McGonagall barked, straightening her hat and glaring at Peeves through her glasses. "Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, throwing the water balloon at the fifth-year girls, who screamed and ran inside the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another water balloon at a group of second-year girls that had just walked in.
"I shall call the Headmaster!" shouted McGonagall, "I'm warning you now, Peeves!"
Peeves stuck his tongue out at her, threw his last water balloon into the air (which I had to jump away from) and zoomed off away up the stairs. "Well, move along then!" McGonagall shouted, "Into the Great Hall!"
We slipped and slid across the Entrance Hall, having to hang onto each other so we wouldn't fall, Ron muttering angrily under his breath the entire time and pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes. I pushed my sopping fringe out of my face, hoping the Great Hall would be warm.
The Great Hall looked as wonderful as it always did at the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed in the light of thousands of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering, happy students. At the top of the Hall, the staff sat at a long table overlooking the House tables. And as I hoped, it was warm and I could feel my hair and clothes start to dry immediately.
We all walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down together at the Gryffindor table on the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, he was dressed in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, the only thing keeping up his partially severed neck.
"Good evening," he beamed.
"Who says?" Harry grumbled, taking off his shoes and turning them upside down, emptying them of all the water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."
The Sorting of all the new first-years into the Houses took place at the start of every new school year. Just then, an excited, breathless voice called down the table. "Hiya, Harry!"
It was Colin Creevey, a third-year Gryffindor student who thought Harry was a hero. "Hi Colin," Harry said warily.
"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brothers starting! My brother Dennis!"
"Er-that's really good Colin," Harry said.
"He's really excited!" Colin said, practically bouncing in his seat, "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"
"Er- alright, yeah," Harry said, turning back to us. "Brothers and sisters usually end up in the same House, right?" Harry asked. I never really thought about that before, I just always thought because all of the Weasley's were in Gryffindor, and all the Malfoy's were in Slytherin, that families generally ended up together.
"Not necessarily," Hermione said, "Parvarti's Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together."
"Parvarti has a twin?" I asked.
"Yes. You've slept in the same room as her for three years, how did you not know that?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, when do I ever listen to Parvarti and Lavender?" I said, rolling my eyes. Parvarti and Lavender were the other girls that shared a dorm with me and Hermione, and they were exactly the type of girls that I tried to avoid. They were too cheerful and hyper all the time.
I looked up at the staff table. There were more empty seats than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still with the first-years, fighting their way across the lake; Professor McGonagall was most-likely supervising the drying of the entrance-hall floor, but there was still another empty seat, although I couldn't think of who else was missing.
"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Nudge asked.
We have never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts that lasted more than one year. My favorite by far had been Professor Remus Lupin, who resigned last year because everyone found out that he was a werewolf.
I looked up and down the staff table again, but there definitely wasn't any new faces.
"Maybe they couldn't get someone!" Iggy said. Hermione started looking anxious.
I scanned the table more carefully. Tiny Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside the Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout. She was talking to Professor Sinistra, who teachers Astronomy. On Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nose, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape- my least favorite person at Hogwarts. My hatred of Snape was matched by his loathing of me, a hatred that had only grown bigger since we helped Sirius escape last year. Snape and Sirius had hated each other since they met when they were at school.
The seat beside Snape was empty too, but that would be filled shorty by Professor McGonagall. Beside that chair, sat the Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbleore, his long silver beard and hair shining in the candle light, his blue eyes were sparkling as always behind his half-moon spectacles and the tip of his long, thin fingers were together as he stared at the ceiling, as though lost in thought.
I looked up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, but I have never seen it look so stormy. Black and purple storm clouds were swirling across it, and as another clap of thunder echoed outside, a fork of lightening flashed across the ceiling.
"Oh, hurry up!" Ron moaned, "I could eat a Hippogriff."
The words were just out of his mouth when the doors to the Great Hall opened and silence feel. McGonagall was leading a long line of scared looking first-years up to the top of the Hall. If all of us were wet, it was nothing to how the first-years were. They looked to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt facing the school- all of them except for a small, mousy haired boy, who was wrapped in Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was much too big for him, and it looked like he was wearing a tent.
His small face was pocking up from the collar, painfully excited. He caught Colin's eye, gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed, `I feel into the lake!' He looked delighted about it.
Professor McGonagall placed the three-legged stool on the ground in front of the first-years, and on top of it, an extremely old and dirty patched wizards hat. All the first-years stared at it, wondering what was going to happen. There was a long silence, then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:
A thousand years or more ago, When I was newly sewn, There lived four wizards of renown, Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, They hatched a daring plan To educate young sorcerers Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders Formed their own house, for each Did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were Prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest Would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were Most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide Their favorites from the throng, Yet how to pick the worthy ones When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, He whipped me off his head The founders put some brains in me So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind And tell where you belong!
The Great Hall rang with applause when the Sorting Hat finished its song.
"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Harry said as we all clapped along with everyone else.
"It sings a different one every year," I said. Harry stared at me, looking surprised. "What? I know things!" Harry laughed, then looked longingly at his plate.
"It's got to be a pretty boring life, though," Ron said, "I suppose he spends most of the year thinking of the new song."
McGonagall was unrolling a long scroll of parchment. Oh my God I was so hungry! This was going to take forever!
"When I call your name, you are to come up here, place the hat on your head and sit on the stool," McGonagall said, "When the Hat announces what House you are in, you will sit at the appropriate table."
"Ackerley, Stewart!"
A small boy walked forward, trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat and sat on the stool.
"We were not that small in first-year, were we?" I asked, looking at all the tiny first-years. "Harry was," Fang said, smiling. "Hey! I wasn't that small!"
"Dude, you're still that small," Iggy said, snickering. "Oh, shut up," Harry said, grinning.
"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat shouted. Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried over to the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. I saw Ethan standing up to shake his hand and cheering him on. He caught me looking at him, and he smiled at me. I blushed and smiled back before quickly turning around.
"Baddock, Malcolm!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
The table on the other side of the hall erupted in cheers. I could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined their table. I heard Fred and George hissing as Baddock sat down.
"Branstone, Eleanor!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Cauldwell, Owen!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Creevey, Dennis!"
Small Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's coat, just as Hagrid himself slid in through a door behind the teachers table. About twice the size as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long tangled and wild black hair and beard, he looked slightly alarming- a misleading impression, for we all knew that Hagrid had a very kind nature. He winked at us as he sat down and watched Dennis putting on the Sorting Hat-
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat shouted. Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis, beaming widely, took off the Hat and placed it on the stool, and hurried over to sit with his brother.
"Colin! I feel in!" he said shrilly. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back into the boat!"
"Cool!" Colin said, looking just as excited, "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"
"Wow!" Dennis said, as if no one in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed lake, and then getting pushed out again by a giant squid.
"Dennis! Dennis, see that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses, beside the blond girl? You see him? You know who he is, Dennis?"
Harry looked up to the top of the Hall, blushing, and trying to ignore us all snickering at him.
The Sorting went on; boys and girls with different degrees of fear on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line shortening slowly as McGonagall called name after name.
"Oh, hurry up!" I groaned, banging my head against the table and massaging my stomach.
"Max, the Sorting is much more important than food," Nearly-Headless Nick said as `Madley, Laura' became a Hufflepuff.
"Course it is, if you're dead," I mumbled.
"I do hope this years Gryffindors are up to scratch," Nick said, applauding as `McDonald, Natalie,' became a Gryffindor. "We don't want to break our winning streak, now do we?" Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship three years in a row.
"Pritcahrd, Graham!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Quirke, Orla!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" (`HUFFLEPUFF!') the Sorting ended.
Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and walked out of the hall. "About time," Iggy said, picking up his knife and fork, and looking hopefully at his plate. Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. He was smiling at the students, his arms held open wide.
"I have only two words for you!" Dumbledore said, his deep voice echoing around the hall, "Tuck in!"
"Hear, hear!" Me, Harry, Ron, and Iggy said loudly as the empty dishes magically filled before our eyes. Nearly Headless Nick watched sadly as we all loaded our plates with delicious food.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," I sighed, my mouth stuffed full with potato.
"You're lucky that there's a feast at all tonight, you know," Nick said. "There was terrible trouble in the kitchens earlier."
"Why? What happened?" Harry asked, cutting up his steak.
"Peeves, or course," said Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously, "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast- well, it is definitely out of the question. You know how he is, completely uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without wanting to throw it. We held a ghost's council- the Fat Friar was all for giving him a second chance- but most wisely in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down on the idea."
The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver blood stains. He was the only one at Hogwarts that could really control Peeves.
"Yeah, we had a feeling that Peeves was ticked off about something," Ron said darkly, "So what did he do in the kitchens?"
"Oh, the usual," Nick said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal, "Wrecked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. The place was swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits-"
Clang!
Hermione knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread easily across the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange but Hermione didn't pay any attention to it.
"There are house-elves? Here?" she asked, horror-struck, staring at Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"
"Certainly," Nick said, "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."
"I've never seen any!" Hermione said.
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchens by day, do they?" Nick said. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning. See to the fires and so on. I mean, they aren't meant to be seen, are they? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it?"
Hermione stared at him.
"But they get paid, right?" she said, "They get holidays? And sick-leave, and pensions, and everything?"
Nick laughed so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of the ghostly skin. "Sick leaves and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders. "House-elves don't want sick leaves and pensions!"
"They don't want it because they've never had it!" I said, feeling terrible that I've never even thought about who cleans the castle, who makes my bed, who makes the fire in the Gryffindor common room.
Across from me, Hermione put down her knife and fork, staring at her barely eaten dinner, and pushed it away from here.
"Okay," I said, "I completely agree with you about house-elves, but there is no way I'm going that far." Hermione nodding in understanding. She knew how much food the flock had to eat.
"Oh c'mon, `Er-my-knee," Ron said, accidentally spraying us all with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops- sorry," he said. He swallowed, and said, "You won't get them sick leave from starving yourself!"
"Slave labor," she said, "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor. And I'm not eating any of it." And she didn't eat anything else for the rest of the evening.
The rain was still hammering against the high, dark windows. Another clap of thunder shook the windows and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the Great Hall as the remains of the main course vanished, to be replaced with puddings.
"Treacle tart, Hermione, look!" Ron said as I put two slices of chocolate cake, and one slice of cheese cake on my plate. "Look, chocolate gateau!"
But Hermione just gave him a look so much like McGonagall's glare that Ron gave up.
When the puddings too have disappeared, and the last crumbs faded from the plates, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of everyone talking in the Hall stopped almost immediately, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So," Dumbledore said, smiling around at everyone, "Now that we are fed and watered (`Hmph!' Hermione said) I must once more ask for your attention while I give out some notices.
"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that a list of items that are banned in the castle have been put up on his office door. The list has extended this year to add Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. Like I said, the full list is in his office, if anyone would like to check it out." The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched.
"As ever," he continued, "I would like to remind you that the forest is out of bounds to students, as is the village Hogsmeade, to all students under third-year. It is also my painful duty to tell you that the Quidditch World Cup will not be taking place this year."
"What?" I gasped, looking at Harry, and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who were all mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, too appalled to speak, but before we could say anything, Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing on throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers time and energy- but I am sure everyone will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall burst open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, covered in a black cloak. Every head in the Great Hall turned to look at the stranger, who became illuminated by another flash of lightening that went across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grey, frizzled hair, then began walking up towards the teachers table.
A dull clunk echoed around the hall with every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, then limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightening crossed the ceiling and Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
The lightening had put the man's face into sharp detail, and it looked unlike any face I have ever seen before, including the Erasers. It looked as though it had been put through a blender. Every inch of his face was scarred. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk was gone from his nose. But it was his eyes that was the most frightening.
One of them was small, dark and beady. The other was large, round like a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking and was rolling up and down, side to side, completely independent from the other eye. Then it rolled right back into the mans head, so that the only thing we could see was thewhire of his eye.
The man reached Dumbledore. He stretched out his hand, which was just as scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words we couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some sort of inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat beside him.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to what was left of his nose and sniffed it. Then he took out a small knife from his pocket, speared the sausage and began to it it. His normal eye was fixed on the sausage, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in it's socket, taking in the Hall and all the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said cheerfully into the stunned silence. "Professor Moody?"
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with mannerly applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except for Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both brought their hands together and clapped into the silence. They stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else was too transfixed by Moody's appearance to do anything other than stare.
"Moody?" Nudge said to Ron, "Mad-Eye Moody?"
"The guy your dad went to help this morning?" Harry went on.
Ron nodded and said in a low voice, "Must be. I've never actually met him before."
"What happened to his face?" I asked.
"Dunno," Ron whispered, looking at Moody in fascination.
Moody didn't seem to care about his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached into his travelling cloak again, pulled out a hip-flash and took a long drink from it. As he lifted his arm to drink from the hip-flask, his cloak pulled up a few inches from the ground and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved, wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at his stunned students, most of who were still staring at Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the next few months. This event has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you all that the Triwizard Tournament will be be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" Fred shouted loudly.
Then tension that had filled the Hall when Moody entered suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore himself chuckled.
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said, "though now you mention it, I did hear a rather good one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-"
McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Er- but maybe this ins't the time...no..." Dumbledore said as a few people laughed, "where was I? Oh, yes, the Triwizard Tournaments...well, some of you will not know what the Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and you may allow your minds to wander freely.
"The Triwizard Tournament was first created some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beuxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion was selected from each school to represent that school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took turns to host the tournament every five-years. It was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between all young witches and wizards of different nationalities- until, that is, the death toll rose so high it was agreed for the tournament to be discontinued."
"Death toll?" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide, alarmed. But her anxiety didn't seem to be shared by most of the other students. Most of the them were whispering excitedly to one another, and I found myself more interested in the tournament rather than a bunch of deaths that happened hundreds of years ago.
"There have been several attempts to reinstate the tournament over the centuries," Dumbledore continued, "none of which were successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have all worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, it will be completely safe, and no champion will find him or her self in any mortal danger."
"The heads of Beuxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving here with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the champions will be on Halloween. An impartial judge will choose which students are most worthy of being a champion and to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table. I looked at Fang, and we both smirked. After facing Erasers our entire lives, this Tournament should be easy. "Let's go for it," I mouthed. He nodded, and we both smiled.
We weren't the only people who wanted to be the Hogwarts champion. At every Hogwarts table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted again.
"Eager though I see many of you are to bring the glory to Hogwarts," he said, "The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age- that is, seventeen or older- will be allowed to enter the tournament. This-" Dumbledore had to raise his voice because several people started making noises of outrage (maybe I was going in on that. But you will never know.) and the Weasley twins were suddenly furious looking.
"-is a measure we feel necessary, given that that tournament tasks will be dangerous and difficult, whatever precautions we take and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will be personally ensuring that no underage students tries to enter the tournament by hoodwinking the impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion," his eyes flashed over to Fred and George, who were red in the face from anger, and then to me. Wow, it was like he knew I was trying to think of ways to get passed that judge...
"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beuxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for most of the remaining school year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are here and you will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it's late, and I know how anxious you all are to start your classes, and for that to happen you must be alert and rested for them tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop Chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet. We all headed towards the double doors to the Entrance Hall.
"They can't do that!" George said as soon as we were in the Entrance Hall, but he was still looking over his shoulder, looking bad tempered. "We're seventeen in April! Why can't we have a shot?"
"Yeah, your birthdays on April Fool's Day. How fitting," I said, still trying to think of how I could enter the tournament. I was tougher then half of them seventh years! I could do it! Anyone in my flock could win this Triwizard Tournament, even Angel, who was nearly six.
"They're not stopping me from entering!" Fred said stubbornly. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you're aren't usually allowed to do. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," Ron said, a faraway look on his face, "A thousand Galleons..."
"Come on," Hermione said, "We'll be the only ones left if you don't move."
We all set off across the Entrance Hall, feeling sleepy after all the food. Fred and George were debating in the ways Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.
"Who's the impartial judge that selects the Champions?" Harry asked.
"Dunno," Fred said, "but it's them we have to fool. I reckon a few drops of aging potion might do it, George"
"Dumbledore knows you aren't of age, though," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah, but he isn't the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" George said, "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter from each school, they'll pick the best, no matter what age. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."
"People have died though!" Hermione said in a worried voice.
"Yeah," Fred said, "And that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a little risk? Hey, Ron, if we find out how to get past Dumbledore, fancy entering?"
"What d'you reckon?" Ron said, turning to Harry, Fang, and Iggy, ignoring me, Hermione and Nudge. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older...Dunno if we've learnt enough."
"Excuse me, sexist pig? What if we want to enter? You know, us girls?" I said, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at Ron.
"Yeah, yeah whatever... We still haven't learnt enough!"
"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran would want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to- opps-"
Neville's foot got stuck through a step halfway up the staircase There were many of these trick stairs in Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump these steps, but Neville's memory was very bad. Harry and Ron grabbed Neville's arms and pulled him out while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs started cackling, laughing wheezily.
"Shut it, you," I said, banging down it's visor as we passed. We made our way to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.
"Password?" she asked as we approached.
"Balderdash," Fred said, "a prefect downstairs told me."
A portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall, that led into the Gryffindor common room, which was full of red squishy armchairs. Hermione cast a dark look to the merrily dancing flames, and I could of sworn I heard her mutter, "Slave labor," before bidding us all good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls dormitory.
I rolled my eyes, and said, "She'll get over this soon. I hope."
I then said goodbye to the boys and climbed up the stairs to my dorm.
Hermione was lying on her bed, her hands on her face, groaning.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, kicking off my Converse and lying on my own bed. "I'm starving!" she snapped.
I laughed, and said, "I might have something for you." I went down on my knees and opened my trunk. "What are you doing?" she asked.
I pulled out a large bag I took with me from the Burrow, which was full of sweets. "Here you are. And house-elves didn't have anything to do with them."
Ta-da! Another chapter done! Hope everyone likes it! :D
Chapters will be slower from now on because of my summer tests, which I have already said, so I apologize about that but it's only a few weeks, then I can write as long as I like :P
So, if you review, you get cookies and butterbeer! So...
REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!
LoVe YoU!
-Rach ;)