A/N: Happy new year!

Disclaimer: I don't own this (and I also do not support JKR).


Obsidian is a stone of volcanic glass, formed from hardened lava. It undergoes volcanic fire to come into existence, and as such it functions as both a protective stone and a conduit for communication with one's shadow self, though it ought not be used lightly for the latter. It is more often used for healing and cleansing. It can take a variety of forms in black obsidian, rainbow obsidian, sheen obsidian, fire obsidian, snowflake obsidian, and more. Please see the appendix for the full list.


The morning Elena and Harry were meant to leave for Hogwarts was rushed and chaotic.

"Mum!" Elena shouted from where she was laying on her paisley rug as she searched beneath her furniture. "Have you seen my mascara?!" She reached beneath her nightstand to pat around a few more times just in case.

Her mother appeared in the doorway, and when Elena glanced up, she barely managed not to wince. Lily seemed furious, wisps of her red hair having escaped her messy ponytail, an intimidating glower on her face. "Elena Liliana," she said with combined authority and accusation, "what were you doing with illegal nail polish?" She held up the little coral-colored jar of everlasting nail polish Elena hadn't been able to find earlier.

Elena blinked at her. "Um. Holding it for a friend?"

Lily's expression darkened. "I have told you multiple times," she fairly shouted. "Do not go into Knockturn Alley! You already know what they'll do to a Potter! You were there when Harry was nearly mugged!"

Yeah, and I stopped him, Elena was tempted to return. The entire incident had been blown out of proportion over the years and Elena still wasn't sure the freaky vendor who'd cornered Harry at the time had even intended to mug him.

Although Elena had kind of dreaded school more and more over the course of August, she would have preferred to be able to apply her mascara and leave for Hogwarts rather than argue with her mother until she missed the Hogwarts Express. She gave her mother a charming smile. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said, sitting up but remaining on the floor, legs tucked under her. "I won't do it again, I promise."

Lily studied her and Elena looked back as innocently as possible. "Ugh, fine," Lily seemed to decide aloud. "And no, I haven't seen your mascara." She started to turn away from the door but paused to point. "But you should check beneath your dresser."

Before Elena could protest—she'd looked under every piece of furniture in the room twice—Lily stalked back into the hallway. Elena sighed as she looked around her room, which was somehow even messier than usual, even though she was taking most of her scales and beakers and distillers with her to school.

Whatever, she thought, and she flailed to her feet. Elena stepped over a few old notebooks and dog-eared books to the weathered trunk at the foot of her bed. She flipped the top up and rummaged through it for a minute in search of her volume-enhancing mascara. She'd wanted to use that nail polish later. And honestly, what was wrong with the ingredients? Why was the use of the Persian club beetle illegal? They're not even endangered!

Elena gave up and swung the trunk shut. After another quick sweep of her bedroom and a visit to the bathroom she came back to drag her locked trunk out into the first floor hall. She couldn't hear her brother banging around in his bedroom, and as a result she stopped to shout, "Hey, Harry!"

"Give me a second!" Harry yelled from somewhere downstairs.

Elena took the second to snag her striped tote bag from her desk chair and throw in her old paperback copy of To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. When the overhead light was off, she reemerged onto the hall, pulling the door shut behind her.

She heard approaching footsteps an instant before Harry ran up the stairs. "What?" he asked as he tugged at the navy zip-up hoodie he must have just yanked on. He really did have a gift for always looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed, though to be fair he couldn't be blamed for having hair that refused to lie flat.

Elena pointed at her trunk. "Can you carry that down for me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ask Mum to use magic." He started to turn.

"I can't!" protested Elena. Harry gave her a strange look and she qualified, "I bought nail polish from Knockturn Alley and she found it and she's angry."

Harry gave her a flat glance, but he grasped the handle of her trunk. "You really have to stop going there," he said as he hefted it up and carried it toward the landing. "You didn't go the other day, right?"

"No," Elena lied. "I was visiting apothecaries and Madam Malkin's."

Harry didn't bother pushing the issue but instead continued down the stairs, and Elena followed. In a few minutes—after Elena visited the kitchen to pet Mercury, already lounging in a patch of sunlight streaming through one of the back windows—the three Potters gathered in the sitting room. Lily ruffled Harry's hair and he tried to swat her hand away, and she focused on Elena. "Did you find your mascara?" she asked, distinctly cool.

"No," said Elena.

"I didn't think I'd have to give you the lecture this year," said Lily, placing her hands on her hips as she more fully faced Elena. "But you have to stay away from sketchy places in Hogsmeade." Elena opened her mouth to protest, because most Ravenclaws liked to hang out at the Cat's Corner over Hogsmeade weekends and the only sketchier place was the Hog's Head. "I don't care if Charlotte or Lucy go with you."

"Mum—"

"I'll keep an eye on her," Harry promised.

Elena rolled her eyes as Lily gave Harry a grateful glance. The pair constantly seemed to be on some other wavelength, as if they were AM and Elena was FM. Although she didn't think about her father much, because it wasn't as if she could remember him, Elena did have to wonder if they might have gotten along as well as these two did.

The twins exchanged hugs with Lily, who wished them both luck, before the two took the fireplace to a designated arrival room not far from Platform 9¾, from which the Hogwarts Express would depart. They walked down to the platform and through the entrance, enchanted to seem like a brick wall to Muggles, together.

The platform for the school train was crowded with rowdy students and their families and pets. It smelled strongly of smoke from the scarlet steam engine and of stale coffee and floor wax, much like the rest of King's Cross. Elena couldn't see anyone she was particularly close with immediately, and after Harry helped her stow her trunk in an empty compartment, he left to find his own. She guessed he'd be sitting with Neville Longbottom, because Ron and Hermione were both Prefects and thus had an early meeting at the front of the train.

Elena, left to her own devices, withdrew To the Lighthouse and flicked through the old pages for a second, half-listening to the other students' voices bouncing up and down the long train hallway and half-thinking about the mysterious stain on the upholstered bench where she was seated. She might have started reading if the glass compartment door hadn't squeaked further open.

She glanced up and found Lucy Fernandez, one of her longtime best friends, posing in the doorway. "Elena!" she shrieked.

"Hey!" Elena started to answer, but she was interrupted by Lucy flinging herself at her in more of a tackle than a hug. After a brief moment of confusion the two separated, and Elena rose to help Lucy drag her trunk into the compartment. They had to double-team it up onto one of the luggage racks overhead and nearly dropped it on their own heads several times.

At last they sat down across from each other. "So?" said Elena, pushing her book aside. The train lurched into motion and Elena briefly glanced outside at the families still waving from the platform, blurring together as the train gathered speed. "How was Spain?"

"Fabulous!" Lucy declared. Her brown skin was glowing, her dark braids pulled back in a low ponytail and her eyes bright. "I met this girl Raquel. She was gorgeous."

Elena laughed. "When's the wedding?"

"Never," Lucy sighed. She stretched her arms out beside her on the back of her chosen bench and leaned back. "I had to leave her behind."

The train emerged from the station to its track, between massive damp stone buildings with a few old-fashioned turrets. The dark gray sky added to Lucy's melodrama, as did the rain that soon splashed against the black-rimmed window, and Elena tried not to laugh again. "But what about you?" said Lucy suddenly, sitting up again. "What'd you do this summer?"

Before Elena could answer, Lucy added with a sympathetic softening of her expression, "How are you doing?"

That was the sort of irritating question Elena preferred to avoid. "Fine," she lied. Lucy lifted her eyebrows, skeptical, but Elena forged ahead. "And I didn't do much. Just practiced Potions and dodged Weasleys and broomsticks." Ron had an enormous family, all of them equally loud, and they, as well as Lily and Harry, were obsessed with the wizarding sport Quidditch.

"Aw, come on," laughed Lucy. "Ginny's nice."

Ginny was the youngest of the redheads. She'd had a crush on Harry for as long as Elena could remember. "She's only nice because you know me," countered Elena. She'd witnessed a few well-cast but undeserved hexes thrown over the years.

"Oh, shut up," said Lucy without feeling. "She's—nice."

"Yeah, okay."

The pair discussed the Weasleys and moved on to Quidditch, which neither of them cared much for outside being able to dress up for game days at Hogwarts, as the rain outside strengthened and turned the window opaque. The conversation shifted to tutoring and their upcoming classes for sixth year. Lucy was interested in history compared to Elena's interest in Potions, which meant few of their classes lined up.

A few hours passed and the lanterns beside the compartment door had flickered on before their other best friend Charlotte Guidry joined them. As the food trolley had already passed, Elena and Lucy were throwing Chocolate Frogs at each other. "Ow, stop!" Elena laughed as she smacked one away—she grabbed the nearest to hurl back at Lucy, who ducked.

Charlotte shoved open the compartment door, and both Elena and Lucy looked up in surprise. She was pale and freckly, with short messy honey-blonde hair, and already seemed annoyed. She traipsed in, dragging her trunk behind her, to flop onto the bench beside Elena. She let the compartment door slide shut on its own with a bang. "I hate Anthony Goldstein," she announced.

She'd gone out with Anthony for most of fifth year, until she'd discovered he was cheating on her with Lisa Turpin, another Ravenclaw. Elena and Lucy exchanged an instant of a glance. "You're not alone there," said Elena mildly. She started scooping up Chocolate Frogs from the carpeted floor.

"Aw, Char!" effused Lucy. She jumped up to give Charlotte a bear-hug that Elena barely dodged away from in time. After a second Charlotte managed to fend her off and collapsed onto the bench again. "Okay, I have the best gossip from this summer," said Lucy, crossing her legs and grinning at both of them. "I heard it from Scarlett Lympsham."

Scarlett Lympsham was a fashionable Slytherin. Elena climbed back up to sit where she had before with an armful of Chocolate Frogs that she dropped onto the bench between her and Charlotte, who she now exchanged a glance with. Charlotte was running her fingers through her hair in a vague attempt to fix it. "How'd you manage that?" she asked. "You were in Spain all summer."

"Not all summer," said Lucy. She gestured at the two of them. "Well? Guess!"

"I'm depressed," said Charlotte, dropping her hands to the bench on either side of her. "Don't make me guess."

Elena snorted and Lucy glanced hopefully toward her. "I don't know," said Elena as she unwrapped one of the Chocolate Frogs. She found a Morgan Le Fay card inside and pushed it into the pocket of her denim jacket, because she'd only ever seen it perhaps twice before. "You found out—Snape and McGonagall are secretly dating?"

Charlotte cackled and Lucy pulled a face. "Ew, no," she protested. "Try again."

"Just tell us before I hurt you," said Charlotte.

Lucy sighed, good-natured. "Okay, fine," she relented, and she continued with delight, "Pansy and Draco Malfoy broke up!"

Elena choked on a bite of Chocolate Frog. "Why'd you add the last name?" Charlotte asked as she clapped Elena's shoulder in a vague attempt to help her recover. "Who else in this universe is named Draco?"

"Wait," Elena managed. "Why?"

Lucy just shrugged.

Elena thought about it as she continued eating her Chocolate Frog and listened to Charlotte and Lucy discuss other well-known relationships. Pansy had had a crush on Draco for as long as Elena could remember, and she'd kind of subconsciously assumed the two would go out forever. I guess they never had that much in common, Elena mused. They were both from historically Dark families—their parents were rumored to have supported Voldemort, the Dark Lord that Harry had blown to pieces when he and Elena were one—and they were both gorgeous, but that was kind of it.

The three spent the remainder of the train ride to Hogwarts chatting about nothing, as the sun set and the train wound into the velvety verdance of the Scottish Highlands. An announcement boomed through the train that they would soon be reaching Hogwarts and the students needed to change into their uniforms.

When all three of them were finishing up, Hermione Granger dashed up to knock frantically on the sliding glass door, panic written all over her face. "What the hell is she doing here?" asked Charlotte as she fiddled with her plaid crossover tie.

"She wouldn't be here if it wasn't important," said Lucy crisply.

Elena stepped between them to open the compartment door. "Hi?"

"Oh, come quickly," said Hermione. Her face was pink, she was speaking so fast she was close to indecipherable, she was clutching her wand in one hand, and although she was in her uniform, her red-and-gold classic Gryffindor tie was askew. "Harry's in trouble."

"Merlin," muttered Charlotte.

Elena backtracked to snag her English oak wand from her compartment bench. "I'll be back in a minute," she informed Charlotte and Lucy, and she ducked out into the long, narrow train hallway. She clicked the compartment door shut behind her and faced Hermione, who was watching, wide-eyed and fidgety. "What's he done now?"

"He went to find Malfoy," said Hermione with a grimace. "I know the Slytherins are somewhere down here, and I saw you, so I thought I should get you to help—"

Ugh, thought Elena. She rolled up the sleeves of her white oxford and marched down the hall with Hermione, glancing in each compartment. Harry was always starting something with someone and Elena was always bailing him out. He was completely incapable of remaining calm when anyone insulted someone he cared about. It was as annoying as it was endearing.

"Why was he looking for Malfoy?" Elena decided to ask as she and Hermione passed beneath lit lanterns and the train cars rattled over the tracks.

Hermione nervously fiddled with her tie and visibly tightened her grip on her wand, her knuckles turning whiter than usual. It was both a blessing and a curse that magic was allowed on the train, no matter whether any given student was underage. The pair of them could use magic to defuse whatever was happening, but it was equally likely that Harry and Draco were already dueling somewhere. "Malfoy was arguing with Ginny in the corridor," Hermione started.

Elena had already lost interest and remained focused on checking the compartments they passed. Hermione had been right—there were a number of silver-and-green skirts and ties around here. "Do you know what compartment he's in?" Hermione asked, recapturing Elena's attention.

"No," said Elena. "But he can't be far from Pansy Parkinson, even if they did break up."

"They broke up?" said Hermione, startled.

In a second it became clear which compartment Draco had been in—there was a knot of curious students gathering in the hall outside one of them, and there was fuchsia smoke billowing out the open glass door. Hermione and Elena looked at each other and broke into sprints.

The two had to push through the burgeoning crowd to reach the disaster area. Vincent Crabbe, a Slytherin, was unconscious on the carpeted floor outside the compartment, and as Hermione and Elena stopped to survey the damage, Ron came stumbling backward out of the compartment, arms flailing, tripped over Crabbe's legs, and thudded to the floor.

"Ronald!" Hermione shrieked.

Elena lifted her wand, stepped over Crabbe, and marched into the compartment without hesitation. "Harry James Potter," she shouted as she futilely tried to wave away the bright pink smoke with one hand. "If you don't get the hell out of here right this instant—"

"Wait, Elena?" Harry's voice issued from somewhere to Elena's left. It was impossible to see more than vague shapes through the borderline opaque smoke. "Get out of here!"

The smoke was growing thicker with each second and soon it would be difficult to breathe—Elena reached in the direction of Harry's voice and grabbed a shoulder. She could only feel a starchy uniform shirt and she kind of swatted the person's torso, and she prayed it was Harry at this point, but he felt too tall—

"Who is that?" demanded Draco Malfoy as Elena fairly smacked him in the face.

Shit, thought Elena. "Goyle," she deadpanned in her deepest attempt at imitating the Slytherin boy's voice. She whirled around and launched herself across the compartment, because somehow the smoke seemed to be making everything backwards.

It took a confusing second, but Elena grasped a handful of what she thought was Harry's shirt and yanked him toward the compartment door. It turned out to be the window and both of them slammed into it. With a throbbing nose Elena turned around and tried the window—this time they made it out to the hallway.

Hermione was leaning over Ron, sitting back against the wall, and both of them glanced up in confusion and betrayal. "Elena?" they chorused.

Elena glanced to her left and discovered she'd grabbed Gregory Goyle instead of her brother. She snarled to herself, whirled around, and stalked back into the smoke. "Everyone stop!" she almost shrieked.

There was an instant of silence.

Then someone punched her in the shoulder.

Elena tried to windmill her arms to prevent herself from falling, but she accidentally smacked someone and ended up slamming into one of the compartment benches with her side. She sat on the compartment floor for a second, startled and winded. "Wait, Elena?!" Harry repeated.

"Did you just hit your own sister?" said Draco with sincere surprise.

Elena squinted into the thick smoke. She thought she could just make out two shadows and she had no idea who was who—as a result she stuck her feet out and tried to trip them both. One of them dropped to the floor with an "Oof!" He seemed to come to the solution on his own and crawled toward the window, which meant he made it to the hall.

That left Elena and the second shadow. "Now would you please get the hell out of here?" she barked as she used the compartment bench she'd slammed into to climb back to her feet.

Whoever it was turned and smacked into the window. "I would if I could figure it out!"

It sounded like Draco. "Go towards the window!" Elena told him, and she moved toward the window at the same time as he did. Of course this meant that although both of them made it out, they collapsed out of the compartment at the same time, joining the pile of people shifting around on the floor. Elena managed to entangle herself with Goyle, who she was 99% sure was trying to cop a feel while he was at it—she outright kicked him in the ribs, and Hermione helped wrench everyone apart again.

The smoke had started to seep into the hall, turning the air pinkish—Hermione straightened and slammed the compartment door shut. Everyone still on the floor and the nearest observers stared at her for a second.

Elena glanced around. There were even more students running over to see what was going on, and she was sure she caught a glimpse of a Hufflepuff Prefect hurrying down the hall. Otherwise Goyle was seated on her right, against the wall, with donkey ears, Crabbe was still passed out on the floor beside him, Ron was slumped against the wall cupping his nose, and when Elena looked to her left—

Morons! Elena launched herself at Draco and Harry, who were already struggling with each other. "Stop it!" Elena yelled as she forcibly shoved Harry away from Draco. Harry moved to go back in and try to continue the fight, but Elena socked him in the stomach. "Back off!"

She waited for him to try it again, but he didn't—he laid back on the floor, panting. As Elena watched him she realized—as she'd hurtled across him to stop Harry, she was essentially laying on top of Draco. Elena flailed to brace her hands against the carpeted floor and gave Draco a sheepish grin. "Uh, my bad."

They stared at each other for a second. Draco was even handsomer close up, with fascinating gray eyes, and his collar had shifted just enough to see there was a mole on his neck. "No worries," he said with the mildest hint of a smirk.

Elena clambered off him as the Prefect arrived and the observers scattered. Everyone except Crabbe climbed to their feet and brushed themselves off, and Harry snagged Elena's sleeve to move her closer to him as Draco turned to check on Crabbe. "Did I really hit you?" Harry asked.

"Yup."

"I am the worst big brother ever," said Harry gloomily.

Elena rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder. "Yes, you are," she told him, and Harry gave her a glance of betrayal. "What the hell were you doing? Was it three on two?" Because unless they'd accidentally trapped Neville Longbottom in there, it must have been Harry and Ron versus Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Harry pointed at Draco, indignant. "He was insulting the Weasleys, and he kept taunting us about not knowing about something that's gonna happen this year at school!"

Elena ruffled his hair and Harry ducked away. "What makes you think he wasn't making it up?"

"He wasn't!" Harry insisted.

Before the two could start to argue, a Slytherin Prefect that had joined the group came over to scold them. As he berated them—Harry more sternly than Elena, because several witnesses had already claimed he'd started the fight—Elena couldn't resist sneaking a glance back over her shoulder to see where Draco had gone. He wasn't far, standing with Crabbe and Goyle and talking to them, and as Elena watched he clapped Crabbe on the shoulder. Then he turned and made eye contact with her.

Elena quickly glanced at the Prefect. "Lesson learned, yeah?" he said, eyebrows raised, as he looked from Harry to Elena and back again.

"Lesson learned," said Harry with a sigh.

"Yeah," Elena agreed a second later. "Lesson learned."


When the train came to a slow halt at Hogsmeade Station, thunder rumbled overhead. Elena, Charlotte, and Lucy left their compartment together, following the other students as they rushed to disembark. Outside, on the fortunately covered platform, it was close to pitch black and windy. Other than Charlotte and Lucy's faces, closest to her, it was hard for Elena to see much.

The sixth years were waved ahead by a Prefect who had to shout to be heard over the chatter of the students and the whistling of the wind. Elena was startled to find that, at the base of the wooden stairs down from the platform, the line of carriages was not horseless. Instead each carriage was pulled by strange, skeletal creatures with folded wings.

Elena glanced at Charlotte and Lucy, but neither of them seemed bothered. She could ask them about it later, Elena decided. Now all she could hear was the splashing of other students' trainers and boots in the mud and the creaking and rustling of the enormous pines that surrounded the platform.

The trio claimed a carriage, and it rattled up the winding path through the woods toward the castle, the spoked wheels throwing mud. Considering all the sound—with the addition of the thrum of rain and occasional crackle of lightning—the three of them peered out their windows in silence as they were swallowed by the night.

Hogwarts came into view after some time. Even at this distance, in the dark, Elena could see the castle's endless turrets and towers, the diamond-paned windows glimmering with artificial yellow in the midnight-black. She had to lean back toward the center of the carriage to avoid being splattered with mud before she could see much else.

The carriages wound up the potholed path to the castle and unloaded students at the wide stone steps. Elena, Charlotte, and Lucy hesitated and glanced around at each other for a second before jumping out of the carriage together and sprinting up the steps through the pelting rain to the oak double-doors.

Inside the entrance hall, the three Ravenclaws paused to adjust their hair. As Charlotte complained and utilized a drying spell, Elena glanced around somewhat self-consciously. The entrance hall was massive, the ceiling too high to see, and the carved stone walls were decorated with lazily moving oil paintings and woven tapestries. Various students were wandering through the largest set of doors to the Great Hall, talking with each other and brushing themselves off or shaking out their wet hair, and Elena could already hear the murmur of more students in the Great Hall. She noted with some relief that no one seemed to be looking at them.

Charlotte led the way into the Great Hall as it filled with drenched students. It was outfitted for the start-of-term feast, the ceiling a swirling, stunning starry night sky overhead and each of the five tables lined with golden plates, cutlery, and goblets. Candlelight from floating tea candles made the gold glimmer, and ghosts shimmered here and there at the four House tables.

The Ravenclaw table was between the Slytherin one and Gryffindor, below the dais where the teachers' table was situated, facing the student tables. Elena snuck a glance at the Slytherin table as she followed Lucy up the Ravenclaw one and realized she could feel a weight on her chest, the same one that had been there since the Daphne Thing.

Stop it, thought Elena. She forced herself to remain present, smoothing down her pleated pastel blue plaid skirt, and took her usual seat beside Lucy, diagonally across from Charlotte. "I still can't believe Harry punched you," Lucy remarked to Elena with a shake of her head.

"Nobody could see," said Elena, and she rolled her eyes. "But yeah, he accidentally punched me."

Charlotte snorted. "I'd believe it even if he could see," she commented. Elena gave her a flat glance—Harry was a moron, but he was her moron, which meant she was the only one allowed to insult him. "Am I wrong?" said Charlotte, throwing her hands in the air.

"Oh, look!" said Lucy, swatting Elena's arm. "We don't have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

"Why are you excited about this?" asked Charlotte. She plucked up her golden goblet as if testing the weight and set it down again. "Whoever it is, they probably just haven't shown up yet."

Elena glanced up at the professors' table herself, considering. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was notorious for losing teachers fast. Professor Quirrell had been around for a few years, but after an unfortunate run-in with a hag, he'd retired early and stayed home. From what Elena had heard he'd pretty much never gone outside again.

After him they'd had Remus Lupin. He was Elena's godfather, and he'd been, by far, their best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor yet. He was, however, a werewolf, which complaining parents had not taken kindly to discovering. Elena already kind of missed being able to stop by his classroom to study in the quiet.

Lucy was right—every professor was there except for DADA. "Maybe someone's going to fill in?" Elena guessed. "Take over those classes?"

"I hope it's Professor McGonagall," said Lucy.

"I don't know why," remarked Charlotte. "She's terrifying." She looked up at the table, too, and after a second said, "I'm right, whoever it is just hasn't shown up yet. There's an empty chair waiting for them."

Elena and Lucy both glanced at the table again. "Maybe they've left it out in memory of crazy professors past," offered Elena sarcastically.

"I still can't believe they didn't keep Lupin," huffed Lucy. "He taught us more than Quirrell ever did, and it wasn't as if he was more dangerous than the forest full of magical creatures surrounding the castle."

"Fair point," offered Charlotte.

But we all know how wizarding society is, thought Elena. She didn't bother saying it but flicked her gaze around the Great Hall again—she realized students were looking at the double-doors. A glance back revealed the first years had started to stream in, sopping wet. Out of deference for the upcoming Sorting ceremony, the other students mostly fell quiet.

For the Sorting, the eleven-year-olds lined up in the widest aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables. Each first year had to sit on a stool on the dais before the teachers' table and have a ratty old hat plunked onto their head. Although Elena hadn't had any occasion to speak to the Sorting Hat after her own ceremony, she did remember it was talkative, speaking silently in each student's mind.

The first years were tiny, Elena noticed. And all their shoes were squelchy against the flagstone floor; she winced. The first years had to not only get through the storm but had to do so across the Black Lake.

When the eleven-year-olds had lined up, the Sorting Hat sang its new song to explain the Houses, as was customary before each Sorting. The instant the lengthy song ended, the Great Hall burst into applause. Elena had to admit she was always impressed by the songs the Sorting Hat came out with. To be fair she doubted it had much to do between each Sorting ceremony.

After the Houses each gained fifteen to twenty eleven-year-olds, the feast started. Charlotte kept looking around the Great Hall while Lucy and Elena ate with gusto. "Who're you looking for?" Lucy asked when the first course was almost over. "Because if it's Anthony, stop looking. He's not worth it."

"It's not Anthony," snapped Charlotte, but she did stop glancing around the enormous hall. "I was trying to find Pansy," she explained. "I wanted to see if she was with Tracey Davis."

Elena leaned over to examine the Slytherin table herself. She found Pansy seated near the head of the Slytherin table, with, indeed, Tracey Davis. Millie Bulstrode was near them, as well as Scarlett Lympsham and Theo Nott. As Elena knew Pansy and Draco had broken up, it wasn't a surprise to find him more than a few seats away from Pansy, with Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle. Goyle was holding a sweating icepack to his head. He'd lost the donkey ears, but it really wasn't much of an improvement.

Elena watched Draco tell an animated story for a few seconds—everyone within a three-seat radius had turned to listen to him—and forced herself to lean back over. "She's with Tracey," Elena reported. Charlotte blinked. "Any chance you want to tell me what the hell she said to you this summer?"

Lucy looked from Elena to Charlotte. "Wait, what?"

Charlotte cut Elena with a glance, and Elena raised her hands in sarcastic surrender. "At one of Stephen Cornfoot's parties this summer," Charlotte said to Lucy, "we had the ultimate falling-out with Pansy. That's all."

"That's all?!" echoed Lucy. "That's huge!" She balled up her cloth napkin as best she could to throw it across the table at Charlotte, who had to catch it before it landed in the gravy saucer. "I've been waiting for this break-up for years!"

"Okay, stop shouting," said Elena quickly, because the nearest Ravenclaws were openly staring. She gave them all a polite and sheepish smile until they turned away.

Lucy sighed. She hadn't even noticed her audience. "I'm so glad," she said. She'd always despised Pansy—their personalities had clashed since first year. It was really rather similar to the relationship between Harry and Draco, except while Harry and Draco dueled each other, Pansy and Lucy ignored each other. "This is great news."

"We get it," said Charlotte, both uncomfortable and annoyed. "Can we move on?"

"Gladly!" exclaimed Lucy, starry-eyed. "We'll forget she ever happened!"

Charlotte changed the subject to an article she'd read in Witch Weekly about Celestina Warbeck's recent comeback. Elena didn't join the conversation but instead resumed checking out the Great Hall, thinking about that party at Stephen's. She had no idea what had happened between Charlotte and Pansy—she'd been chatting with Theo Nott in the linoleum kitchen when Charlotte and Pansy had stormed in, already arguing.

Before Elena had even been able to process their arrival, Charlotte had grasped her arm and yanked her toward the back door. "Good riddance!" Pansy had shrieked.

"Stay away from both of us!" Charlotte had shouted back, and the two were outside in the summer night air. She'd refused to answer questions about the confrontation ever since. It's probably better not to ask.

Elena found her brother at the center of the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, Neville Longbottom not far. Hermione was smacking Ron in the shoulder with a book she must have carried in, which was not unusual. Elena spotted Oliver Rivers at the Hufflepuff table—he was friends with Lucy—and turned her attention to the rest of the Ravenclaw table. Anthony and Lisa were laughing together near the doors, and Anthony's two best friends, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, seemed to be valiantly attempting to ignore them.

The last table Elena examined was the teachers'. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the strangest professor of the lot, was at the center, in his high-backed carved wooden chair. He was surrounded with the other teachers, half of them leaning in for some conversation and half of them unbothered, all of them resembling the Apostles in The Last Supper painting by da Vinci. Harry had always gotten along well with Dumbledore, and Elena had no idea why.

When the last of the desserts had vanished from the tables, Dumbledore rose from his veritable throne. The murmur of students' chatting tapered off—rarely anyone dared to talk over him. It was partially because he was rumored to be powerful, on the Wizengamot and older than any other wizard alive, and partially because everything he said was weird. It was both the best and the worst.

The thrum of rain overhead was still audible as Dumbledore gave a brief summary of the various pranking objects that had been banned by the caretaker, Filch. He touched on the Forbidden Forest, reminding everyone that it was out-of-bounds, and Hogsmeade.

It was then that his speech became more interesting. "It is also my painful duty to inform you," he said, "that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

There was an immediate outbreak of enraged shouts and whispers across the Great Hall. Elena twisted around to find Harry, the Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was gesturing to his teammates, all of whom looked wrongfooted and furious. "Good riddance," remarked Charlotte.

"Aw," said Lucy. She nudged Elena and pouted. "No more dressing up for game days."

Elena hummed in agreement.

Dumbledore managed to continue, and as he did the students fell quiet again, though mutinous mutters still rippled across the Great Hall. "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open.

As Dumbledore stopped, each student turned to see who'd entered so late and so loudly. It was a stranger, sporting a long, old-fashioned duster and holding a heavy staff. He started toward the teachers' table.

"That's got to be him," Charlotte hissed. "The new professor."

She had to be right—the man himself, however, was more than frightening. His pale face looked as if its features had been rearranged several times, he was covered in knotted gray scars, and he had two different eyes. Although Elena couldn't quite see one of them, the other was big and filmy blue—it had to be magical, because it whirred around constantly.

When the new professor reached Dumbledore, they shook hands over the teachers' table. After a moment of inaudible conversation, the man walked around the table to take the empty DADA professor's chair. "Yup," whispered Charlotte, smug.

"Uh," Lucy whispered, "yikes."

Elena had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing, because there was no better way to sum up such an entrance. Dumbledore, unlike the alarmed students, was quite unmoved. "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he said, gesturing to the man in question. "Professor Moody."

There was an awkward smattering of applause that ended swiftly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying—we are to 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."

Elena had no idea what that was. She looked at her friends, who were equally bewildered, and around the Great Hall. She spotted Draco smirking at the Slytherin table. "Some of you will not know what this tournament involves," continued Dumbledore, "so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that, is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Elena choked on a sip of Guaraná and Lucy patted her back. "Death tolls?" said Charlotte, intrigued. She straightened up. "I wonder what sort of tasks they had to do."

"Deadly ones?" offered Elena, her voice still strained.

"Are we sure we want to know?" said Lucy at the same time, skeptical.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament—none of which has been very successful," said Dumbledore. He hadn't even waited to let the death tolls comment sink in. Half the Great Hall was confused and the other half already thrilled. "However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt."

Elena set her goblet down on the table and tugged at the collar of her oxford. Saying "attempts" didn't seem too promising. "We," Dumbledore continued, "have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Instantly the death tolls were forgotten. All over the Great Hall there were excited exclamations. Dumbledore said, "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry for Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

That angered the students more than the loss of Quidditch. "This is a measure we feel is necessary," said Dumbledore, raising his voice to continue, "given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, 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 personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected." Those statements sounded more like threats. "And now," concluded Dumbledore, "it is late, and I know how important it is to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat back down, and there was an immediate cacophony of sound as students rose together to leave the Great Hall for their House dormitories. "I can't believe we can't even apply while we're in sixth year," complained Charlotte, who would turn seventeen in March. She brushed her hair back from her face and glanced around. "I can bet you anything Michael's gonna go for it. Malfoy, too. One of them will get it."

"Pansy might," said Elena wryly. Michael Corner, Draco, and Pansy all had autumn birthdays and would likely be seventeen by the time the other schools arrived and the champions were chosen.

Charlotte harrumphed and shot a glare in Pansy's direction. "Like she needs a thousand Galleons."

Both Elena and Lucy knew better than to comment, and instead both of them followed the students leaving the Great Hall, Charlotte doing the same on the other side of the table. Death tolls, Elena mused. It might be useful to read up on past tournaments—and to determine why all those other "attempts" had failed.