October 1994.
The following weekend, I remained in the dormitory, pretending to be afflicted by a mysterious illness that confined me to my bed. Miraculously, by Monday morning, the ailment had vanished. In reality, I was grappling with the consequences of the temporary madness that led me to consume Fairy Wine.
I recollected fragments of the conversation I had with Charlie the Dragon Researcher, hoping that the wine had affected him as much as it had me. He talked about studying dragons, though I was preoccupied with scrutinizing the burn on his arm, intrigued that a real dragon was responsible for it. I forgot to ask why he was in Hogsmeade on that Friday night. The memory of the clock striking midnight was hazy, a pink cake with candles materializing from nowhere, and him wishing me a happy birthday, even tugging my ears and planting a kiss on my cheek.
What concerned me was the realization that I couldn't recall anything overly embarrassing from that night. Such memories were conveniently missing.
There was a moment in which he winced as I inadvertently touched a particularly fresh cut on his arm, nearly causing me to topple off my barstool. Graham then, for whatever reason, decided to break a chair, prompting Madam Rosmerta to call it quits and have us all on our merry way to the castle. We all hurried out into the chilly night air and made our way back to the castle. The journey back remained a blur, punctuated by the sensation of cold, followed by a sense of being gently lifted by benevolent faeries and gently tucked into bed. When I woke up in the morning, a glass of fresh water awaited me on the nightstand.
As it turned out, the faeries were none other than my fourteen-year-old brother, who most definitely shouldn't have been at the pub in the first place, along with Pucey and Graham. I suspected Theo was behind the thoughtful glass of water.
The next week welcomed us with a crisp morning, the air carrying the sense that the transitional season was drawing to a close, making way for the approaching cold embrace of winter.
Moody persisted in subjecting us to non-verbal spells, all the while emphasizing the importance of resisting the Imperius Curse. While his lessons and demonstrations were undeniably illegal, no one could deny the practical value of his teachings. I found myself good at casting non-verbal spells, but ironically, I struggled considerably when it came to resisting his attempts at mind control.
My brother appeared to be in better spirits. While he didn't join Malfoy and his group in their foolishness, he seemed to be spending more time with classmates like the Greengrass girl, who I liked a lot.
It was a much-needed period of calm.
That was until the entire castle was suddenly bustling with activity, as tapestries were dusted, Peeves' pranks undone, and students made to showcase their best behavior. During this time, I cherished my peaceful strolls around the castle and its grounds, relished in having tea with my brother, and cozied up by the common room fireplace in the evenings watching the abyss around us. Charlie the charming dragon researcher and his fiery red hair had all but slipped from my mind.
"How do you reckon they'll arrive?" mumbled Graham with his mouth full, earning a newspaper slap from Amelia. My gaze shifted to the Hufflepuff table, yet the boy I hoped to catch sight of wasn't there.
"No idea. We'll find out soon."
Over the past week, Diggory seemed to be everywhere I turned. Initially, I hadn't thought much of it, but his consistent presence sparked my curiosity. He wasn't a stranger to me; I recalled seeing him studying with Maggie before her parents withdrew her from school.
Maggie used to go to school with us, sharing a dormitory with me, Amelia, and two other girls since our first year. She had been an exceptionally talented Quidditch player, a school celebrity. However, her promising career came to a devastating end due to a severe injury she suffered toward the end of last year. In response, her parents chose to homeschool her while she recovers and she used that newfound freedom to party and hook up with professional Quidditch players that were probably way too old for her anyway.
Graham, in his dramatic fashion, likely regarded Maggie's departure as a cosmic catastrophe. The fact that the tabloids were still gleefully documenting Maggie's flings probably added fuel to his metaphorical fire. As for me, while I didn't share the same level of intimacy with Maggie as I did with Amelia, her absence left a void in our dormitory dynamics. I made an effort to write to her as often as I could. Replies were rare, but they were always appreciated.
The classes ended early that day, prompting us to follow the rest of our classmates in leaving our bags behind and joining the professors in the Great Hall. From there, they organized us into lines in front of the castle.
"Merlin's balls, it's cold," whispered Graham, prompting a snicker from Amelia.
As I grew bored watching nothing happen, suddenly a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage came rushing toward us through the air, pulled by a dozen winged horses. The students in the front three rows instinctively drew backward as the carriage hurtled lower and lower, eventually landing at a tremendous speed. Amid the crash, Longbottom stumbled back onto my feet.
"Ouch!" I exclaimed, and the boy quickly apologized with a red face.
A boy in pale blue robes leaped down from the carriage and opened the door for his headmistress – a giant woman who left the Hogwarts students wide-eyed. Applause erupted, matching the rhythm of Dumbledore's claps.
"But I heard there would be..." Graham began to whisper, only to be abruptly interrupted by the deep voice of the woman.
"My pupils," Madame Maxime uttered, casually waving one of her enormous hands behind her. A cluster of about a dozen boys and girls, all appearing to be in their late teens, had just disembarked from the carriage and now stood in a row behind her.
"Are they wearing silk in this weather? Oh my," Amelia mockingly whispered to me, and I shook my head. The girls clutched their scarves, shivering in the harsh Scottish weather.
"What did you hear?" I asked Graham, my curiosity drove me to turn toward him. However, he merely shrugged and remained hypnotized by the graceful French girls as they exited their colossal carriage.
From the depths of the Black Lake, the Durmstrang ship emerged. The sound of an anchor splashing into the water and the subsequent thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank reached our ears. Figures began to disembark; their outlines glided past the ship's portholes, illuminated intermittently by the gentle glow within. Each of them was wrapped in cloaks fashioned from shaggy, matted fur.
"Looks like they dressed for the occasion," I told Amelia, who was already studying the students with a keen interest. Their headmaster, a man with a sharp, calculating appearance, urged one of his students forward, propelling them toward the castle entrance with a purposeful nudge.
It was Viktor Krum.
The two of us exchanged glances, our lips curling into smirks of shared amusement.
"I wonder if the Bulgarian afterparty is more of a blast than the Irish one if you catch my drift," Amelia said we shared a laugh, our giggles echoing in the crisp air around us. Meanwhile, Graham rolled his eyes dramatically, mumbling something that resembled disgusting.
In front of us, a Weasley was jumping all around the steps, shouting in a stunned voice - ''It's Krum! Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!''
Soon, we were slowly returning to the castle.
Viktor Krum and the other Durmstrang students had settled down at the Slytherin table. Amelia was overjoyed and chatting with two Durmstrang boys who seemed to be enjoying the food and looking around the hall. I wasn't fully tuned into the discussions around me, responding with occasional "oh" and "aha", instead I was watching Cedric Diggory as he sat at the Hufflepuff table and laughed loudly with his friends.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"
"The what?" Graham muttered, and Amelia simply shrugged, looking at the Durmstrang boy telling her a story in terrible English. Dumbledore was speaking, "- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - the audience responded with a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
As the two speakers continued on, I felt my attention drifting away again. It was my usual response whenever a new boy caught my eye – a mental balancing act of considering whether he was worth my time. Diggory occasionally locked eyes with me. He was undeniably handsome, but there seemed to be a constant stream of girls orbiting around him. I wasn't lacking in confidence, but the question lingered – why would I pursue a boy who seemed to entertain half the castle?
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore's voice cut through the hall, prompting Amelia to nudge me.
''You have to,'' Graham and she chimed in together.
"What, this? No!"
"Oh come on, we'll make a great team. Picture it – you'd be the face, all of us together – the brain! Just us, against all these losers. Seriously, just mull it over," Amelia was making their argument.
"Let's be real for a moment, you're the only one of us who's of age. So you see, we're kind of stuck with you," Graham added.
"Pretty please?"
"Absolutely not!"
"I'll give you my Weird Sisters tickets!"
"Amelia, even if I do enter, it doesn't mean it will choose me."
"But think about it! We're on good terms with the prefects, so you could even do it now. No one will catch you. We can get a bunch of other people to add your name too."
I took a moment to consider it and realized there wouldn't be any harm in throwing my name in the mix. I mean, it's not likely they'd pick me out of everyone, and besides, I wanted to see the Weird Sisters on New Year's. I sprang up in bed, facing my friend, just as Meredith Farley who'd been woken up by us shushed us from across the room - Amelia responded by showing her the middle finger.
''That's cheating and not even the fun kind. Alright, but you're taking me to the Weird Sisters gig for New Year's? And you and Graham are writing my Charms essay this week, deal?''
"Deal!" We sealed our agreement with a handshake and Meredith shushed us again, mumbling something about patrolling the dungeons with a Hufflepuff and a Transfiguration essay she was horridly late with before dozing off again.
"You know, I would've taken you to the concert regardless. Montague too," Amelia whispered.
"Yeah, and I probably would've thrown my name in too, but do enjoy researching the origins of the Drought Charm."
Before turning away from her, I saw that she was flashing me both her middle fingers.