Chapter 7
"Most people want to be circled by safety, not by the unexpected. The unexpected can take you out. But the unexpected can also take you over and change your life. Put a heart in your body where a stone used to be." - Ron Hall
In the days leading up to the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, Bex found it increasingly difficult to get her little group of apprentices to focus on anything but. She wasn't frustrated with them per se, but when Claudia nearly administered blood replenisher to a first-year rather than the prescribed calming draught for his anxiety, Bex decided it might be best to allow her seventh-years a few days off. Just until their guests arrived and the Goblet of Fire moved to the Great Hall.
"Claudia, hon, why don't you and Rosetta go ahead and use your free period to revise for N.E.W.T.s? Get outside – enjoy this nice weather before it goes for good."
Claudia nodded enthusiastically.
"Thank you, Healer Kakudō!" she said with a grin. Rosetta was already standing up, collecting her things and throwing books into a tote. Bex smiled at their childish eagerness; as serious as these two were about their studies and paths to mediwizardry, even they couldn't help but to get swept up in the Triwizard Tournament madness.
"Tell Dmitri I'll see him after Halloween weekend!" she called after them.
With a "Will do!" they were gone and Bex was left alone with a little eleven year old Hufflepuff who'd finally been administered the correct potion. He was visibly more relaxed, though his cheeks were pink (presumably from embarrassment).
"Am I… am I free to go now?" he mumbled quietly.
"Yes, of course, Wesley," she smiled. "Just take it easy on yourself this year, alright? You're a bright young wizard – you're going to perform marvelously at Hogwarts."
He peered at her from beneath dark lashes. "You think so?"
"I know so."
Hours later, Bex was taking advantage of the quiet in the barren infirmary, getting caught up on paperwork and sorting through mail. There was a letter from Rowan, of course, and one from the program director at Erinlẹ's Hospital for Enchanted Ailments. She'd ripped open that envelope first, with the familiar crested letterhead, sighing in relief when she saw it was just a formal congratulations for the role in which she'd accepted. The director, Kofī Obeng, told her that she was free to come and go from the hospital whenever she pleased, and offered her a significant bonus package for the immediate increase in duties.
So immersed was she in her tasks that Bex nearly started out of her skin when the familiar POP! of Apparition thundered off the walls of the Hospital Wing.
"Tilli!" she cried in shock, placing a hand over her pounding heart. The elf had Apparated only a foot or so away from her desk, the force of which almost knocked over a bottle of ink.
The little house elf, not even a meter tall and proudly wearing a S.P.E.W. badge, wasn't even trying to hide its scrutiny of the mediwitch sitting before her. Large, bug-like eyes narrowed at her as though she'd done something wrong.
"Tilli?" said Bex carefully, standing from her desk. Parchment and other various papers fell to the ground. "What's the matter? Was the restock list too much for Professor Snape to handle?"
Bex had never seen a house elf look so… angry. Rarely were their services called upon internationally, so much of their behavior still came with a bit of a learning curve for her. She'd come to realize that the Hogwarts' elves weren't allowed to speak badly about the students and staff… at least, not to their faces. This explained the way Tilli seemed ready to burst, slinging backhanded compliments (in lieu of insults) at the matron. Bex was profoundly confused, mostly because she'd really thought they were getting along before this moment.
"Miss doesn't insult Master Snape!" the little creature seethed. "Master Snape handles all brewing lists, no problem!"
"Then what is the issue, Tilli?"
She pulled her ears and shoved a fist in her mouth in response – Bex's heart broke at the sight. She moved to pull Tilli's hand away from her face, but the elf darted just out of reach.
"You –! You's been stealing from Master Snape! From his private stores so you's can be brewing lovey-dovey love potion!"
"Love potion?!" Bex exclaimed, eyes wide. She went largely unnoticed by Tilli, who was now punishing herself for accusing the Healer of such a crime; bracing her hands on the wall, she slammed her head into the stone only twice before being wrenched away by gentle, yet firm hands.
"Tilli, why are you wearing this badge?" Bex asked, gesturing to the gleaming button pinned to her front.
The elf sniffled, her poor face already beginning to swell up.
"Miss Granger," she hiccoughed, "of Gryffindor House, fourth-year – she's be saying that house elves… house elves needs being treated better, Miss."
"Yes," said Bex, humming softly between her words as she touched Tilli here and there. "I happen to agree with Miss Granger, as a proud S.P.E.W. supporter myself. You do deserve to be treated much better than you currently are, Tilli; by society, and, perhaps more importantly, by yourselves. Please don't ever punish yourself in such a way ever again. You never deserve it."
Tilli absorbed Bex's words with wide, innocent eyes, ears twitching in interest. She touched her face where the previous abrasions and broken bones were now healed, then smiled a watery smile at the mediwitch.
"Now," continued Bex, placing a warm hand on Tilli's bony shoulder, "why don't you just start from the beginning?"
"Beginning?"
"Why exactly do you think I'd steal ingredients from Professor Snape to brew Amortentia, of all things?"
Tilli nodded ferociously, some of her earlier spunk returning. "Things been going missing in Master Snape's private stores, they has. Master has dreams where he mutters your name, Miss!"
"M-my name…?"
"And he stares all the time in the Great Hall!"
"At… me?"
Again, Tilli nodded, ears flapping wildly.
Bex could've pinched herself. For surely the little elf was mistaken. "Dreams?" she whispered incredulously, at a complete loss for words. The man barely had a civil word for her, so why on earth would he be dreaming of her? How did Tilli know this? Snape didn't seem like the kind of man to willingly offer up such… incriminating information. Even to a house elf.
"Tilli," she started slowly, trying to organize her thoughts and questions, "I need you to tell me exactly what happened. I need to know exactly what was said, and why you were privy to it. I don't make a habit of stealing and I certainly wouldn't slip anyone a love potion, so I promise you he isn't under my influence. But I am curious – I was under the impression that he wouldn't give me a second thought unless he absolutely had to. Why – How – What could these dreams be about?"
"Ahhhh."
A look of comprehension slowly dawned on Tilli's face, and she quickly conjured herself a cozy chair in front of the matron's desk. She hopped up and looked to Bex expectantly. Brows rising with mirth, the Healer took her seat and pushed forward a tin of biscuits. Tilli snapped her weathered fingers once and a platter of fresh chocolate scones appeared atop Bex's mountain of paperwork, next to the tin. Bex took one of the treats gratefully and gestured for Tilli to continue.
RK + SS
That… was odd.
Severus' brow furrowed in confusion. Not one to ever wear such an open expression where he could be seen and perceived as anything other than the cantankerous dungeon bat, he quickly schooled his face and looked around the hall lazily as though that's what he'd been doing the entire time. Hogwarts' "bestowed guests of honor" – he rolled his eyes internally – were finally making their grand appearance and he just could not understand why the students and their fabulous displays weren't enough to hold Kakudō's attention.
First, the woman seemed interested in him, turning chillier the more she got to know him (like most). Severus thought it may have been his treatment of the students that ticked her off especially, but he couldn't be sure. That was all well and fine, and he wasn't losing any sleep over it – he was used to people hating him – but what had changed between then and now to where she kept throwing him subtle glances down the Head Table? Her brown cheeks had flushed, in fact, as he'd taken his seat at the start of the reception. This intrigued him more than anything. His interest was still oddly intact, particularly on the heels of that.. horrid night terror. And he wanted to know the reason behind that flush; was it embarrassment or guilt that caused blood to pool beneath her skin, like a warm light shining upon soil? Light golden eyes made contact with his yet again and he swore to himself he would find Kakudō sometime after this detestable dinner, and get an answer out of her as to why she continued looking at him.
Septima laid a hand lightly over hers and murmured something in her ear, to which she responded with a smile and a small shake of her head.
Severus strained his ears to hear more of their exchange, but the quiet words were swallowed up by uproarious applause for Beauxbatons and their Headmistress. He rolled his eyes and clapped politely for Madame Olympe Maxime as she shook hands with Dumbledore. Igor Karkaroff strolled into the Great Hall with his students, stepping with the false confidence and arrogance of a dead man walking.
Overall, the entire ceremony, if one could call it that, was a tedious affair, with over-the-top displays from both delegations. Maxime and Karkaroff both stood like they had something to prove, and Severus sneered at his old… colleague. No doubt the cowardly little rat would try to sniff him out – to confirm what he already knew was true – and Severus had neither the desire nor the patience to play up any sort of sympathy for the man. Ignoring Karkaroff for the time he was here at Hogwarts would be his safest course of action.
Warm amber once again skimmed over his person, before redirecting their attention to the Headmaster, whom was speaking with the Sonorous charm. Severus fidgeted slightly in his seat. He was so irritated with his inability to ignore her like he was capable of doing everyone else. This minor nuisance was the driving force behind allowing Tilli to takeover correspondence between the Potions lab and Hospital Wing. If he didn't have to see her, he could effectively pretend like she didn't even exist (beyond the errant meanderings of his subconscious). With the desired result being no more time wasted spent wondering why he was drawn to the presence of an annoying, insufferable little –
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," the Headmaster's voice boomed. There was a delighted twinkle in his eye as he took in the students from all three schools. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
Sitting through the reception feast proved to be more hellish than Severus thought it would be. As Head of Slytherin House, to excuse himself now would be an unfathomable display of poor manners, despite the urgency he felt to leave the hall then and now. On top of the two Ministry employees to his right, he had to also contend with a psychotic ex-Auror, a thief somewhere in the castle, and the Dark Lord's second coming. He had no time to spend on such frivolities. And yet, Dumbledore had pushed earnestly for the tournament – for Ministry personnel, Death Eaters and their children to come together using Hogwarts as neutral ground. Why?
Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch talked as softly as they could while still being heard over the buzzing hall; they paid Severus no mind as they tucked into the delicious, elf-made food. He placed a few things on his plate – mostly for appearances' sake – and scanned the Gryffindor table with practiced subtlety. There. Potter was surrounded by his usual posse, he and Weasley too busy fawning over Viktor Krum to notice Granger trying to get their attention. Fortunately, her irritatingly shrill voice couldn't carry over the noise in the Great Hall. His eyes narrowed over his seafood stew as he once more mulled over his missing ingredients – there was no way the little swot would be so bold as to try her hand again at Polyjuice Potion… right?
"Severus?" Flitwick squeaked at his elbow.
The Potions professor peered downward and slowly raised a black eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Minerva's asked if you would please stop scowling into your soup," the goblin said innocently. "Says it's turning her stomach, making it very hard to eat…"
Nostrils flaring, Severus went to snap a retort, but was oh, so conveniently interrupted by Dumbledore recommencing the announcements for the Triwizard Tournament. Fortunately, he was already aware of most details, having badgered out of the old man most everything he wanted to know – including every possible safeguard put in place to stop Harry bloody Potter from entering the games, even unwittingly. There was only so much Severus could take this year. Potter potentially dying (again) in a series of mortal challenges was not something he wanted to worry about.
The entire Great Hall waited with bated breath as Filch brought forth the casket containing the Goblet of Fire. Severus risked a glance at Kakudō, who was watching along with the others, albeit with a trace of distaste coloring her delicate features. Ah, so not a traditionalist then. Most in the wizarding community celebrated the Triwizard Tournament, calling it a welcome distraction from recent worldly events, symbolic, or whatever tripe; this was, of course, distinctly underscored by those who felt the series of ill-fated challenges should stay in the past, written down in history books.
Rebecca Kakudō, it would seem, fell into the latter category.
He couldn't blame her, sharing similar views. Moreover, the games would doubtlessly overshadow all lessons for the remainder of the year, as they had up until this point; the thick-headed brats' powers of retention would be drastically minimized this year, and Severus cringed inwardly as he thought about just how many of his students would be lost without a head to scratch. It was hard enough trying to get them to pay attention dealing with the volatile substances in his classroom – now, add in games, a dance, and international students…
Dumbledore made a grand, sweeping gesture as the Goblet of Fire was revealed to varying oo's and ahh's. Again, Severus looked to Kakudō to gauge her reaction – the light from the cup bounced off her dark curls and made her skin glow. She remained unimpressed by the Headmaster's display, though she showed a healthy amount of curiosity towards the ancient magical artifact.
At last, the feast was ended. The magnificent spread of food disappeared and students began filing out towards the Entrance Hall, babbling on excitedly about the potential champions they were likely to see in the next twenty-four hours. Kakudō stood, placing a hand on Vector's shoulder and bending down slightly to whisper in her ear. This was it! This was his chance to confront her, loathe as he was to do so. The plan was to embarrass her so badly, she would next time think twice about looking at him as if she knew all of his secrets.
She was now making her way out of the Great Hall, filing behind the last straggling students. Severus gave it a few moments, not wanting to make obvious what he was doing to anyone who may be watching. Then, he followed, skirting the Slytherin table. He docked points from a group of Ravenclaws who were loitering near the exit and blocking his way out. They scurried away, throwing sour looks at him over their shoulders. He paid them no mind, continuing in the direction of the Hospital Wing. By this time, he'd lost Kakudō in the swell of people milling about aimlessly, but reasoned she would beeline straight for the infirmary to relieve the house elf on duty. Naturally, he would've been right on her heels had he not been intercepted by one of the last people he wished to speak to at present.
"Severus! My old companion! It has been too long, has it not?"
Severus was just barely able to keep his composure, reigning in the frustrated snarl on the tip of his tongue
"Igor," he drawled neutrally, aware of the many people around them within earshot. "Too long indeed. I hope all has remained well with you."
What he left unsaid spoke volumes. Karkaroff visibly gulped – pathetic – and smiled somewhat shakily. "Same old, same old," he replied, eyes shifting back and forth as though the Dark Lord might pounce from the shadows. "Severus, is there somewhere private we can go to speak?" His last words were whispered. Rushed.
Feeling as though his patience would snap, Severus brushed past the former Death Eater. He had no time for this.
"As much as I would delight in… catching up, I've somewhere to be. Excuse me."
The Durmstrang headmaster looked absolutely gutted, but pulled himself together as students began to stare.
"Well, I will just talk to you tomorrow, Severus!" he called, moderately hopeful – and ultimately, in vain. After the war, Karkaroff had made too many enemies of the Dark Lord's followers; he would not be welcomed back into the fold after all he'd said and done, and there was simply nothing Severus could do to change that.
Dead man walking.
Severus turned the corner and ran headlong into the very witch he was seeking out.
"Oh! Professor –!" She was flustered, having been caught listening in on a conversation that didn't involve her. Severus would be furious if the part of his brain that processed anger wasn't overshadowed by curiosity.
"Were you eavesdropping?" he asked in his lowest voice, looking down his long noise at her.
"Yes," she said bluntly, without an ounce of shame.
Severus sneered to cover his surprise at the honest admission. "Did you gather everything you wanted to hear then?"
What the hell? Was that a whisper of a smile?
"No, not everything," she replied. She beckoned him to follow her to a nearby alcove, partially hidden from view by a glimmering suit of armor. Like a fool, Severus fell into step behind her, throwing the subtlest glance over his shoulder to ensure they were alone. Then they were face to face, and her shining eyes were so disarming, his mouth opened of its own accord and once again spoke words he didn't tell it to.
"Why were you looking at me?" he snapped, willing his cheeks not to redden. It was a pathetic attempt to try and regain the upper-hand in their interaction. He was supposed to be the one embarrassing her, not the other way around.
"Um –?"
"Don't be coy, Healer Kakudō," he continued without mercy. "It does not suit you. During the reception dinner, you kept looking at me – why?"
"Ah. My apologies, Professor Snape, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just – well, I just heard…"
He waited, breath caught in his throat, but she didn't finish. "Heard? You've heard what, exactly?"
Those light brown eyes pierced his soul – or, what tattered remains were left of it, he supposed. He fought the urge to just… peer behind those eyes, into the crevices of her own mind and soul. For Severus, most people weren't unreadable. Kakudō was completely different – she was as unreadable as she was unpredictable. It unsettled him tremendously.
"I just heard that you've been… dissatisfied with my housekeeping in the Potions classroom? Tilli mentioned it in passing the other day, and I just wanted to find the right time to apologize. I can do my brewing in the Hospital Wing, if you'd prefer?"
He hadn't expected that – Severus hadn't expected that at all. Housekeeping? What was she on about? There was very little chance she was telling the truth. A partial truth? His jaw stiffened. Half-truths often hid the biggest of lies, so he took her bullshit apology with a grain of salt. He searched for sincerity in her soulful eyes, but all he found was more secrets that he could only ever hope to uncover. What had she learned about him that caused her to look at him in such a way all evening? And now…? His stomach did somersaults at the possibilities, in spite of his automatic relief that she wasn't implicitly terrified.
He realized he wasn't speaking when she broke eye contact to glance his lips. Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, Severus at last replied, "That will not be necessary. There is no need to setup another potions lab in the Hospital Wing when the dungeon classrooms come fully equipped and operational. Just clean up after yourself – you're an adult, so act. Like. It."
Kakudō frowned. Ah. Struck a nerve. He continued to observe her as she opened her mouth to retort, glamour shimmering and dancing across her otherwise clear, brown skin. Tempting him to cast Finite.
"Alright, I already said I was sorry. No need to be an ass and rub my nose in it."
Severus nearly barked a laugh, physically biting the side of his tongue to prevent it from slipping out.
"I'm the biggest ass" – he mocked her bastardized Chicagoan accent with an unexpected playfulness and a shadow of pride – "you'll ever meet. They don't call me the bat of the dungeons for nothing."
The small smile returned and even in its softest state, it was… radiant. Probably the added charm from the glamours, he reasoned.
"You wear that title like armor, Snape," she said, wriggling past him out of the alcove. Oh. Heading to the Hospital Wing. "I hope, someday, you'll allow me a peek at the man underneath."
And then she was gone. Heeled shoes clicking on the stone floor, fading, fading. Gone. Taking with her the scent of lavender and patchouli oil, he suddenly realized. His nostrils flared and he scowled hard, adding confusion and uncertainty to the ever-growing list of ambivalent emotions he felt towards her.
RK + SS
"I need you to tell me everything you know about Severus Snape right now."
Septima blinked in surprise. "Not even a, 'good afternoon, Auntie' or 'how were your morning classes, Auntie'? Just straight to it, eh?"
Bex shuffled her feet, chuckling in mild embarrassment as she'd been thoroughly called out. "Sorry, Auntie," she said with a sheepish smile. "How was your morning?"
The Healer plopped on her favorite couch in her aunt's study. She kicked off her shoes and brought her feet up, tucking them beneath a fleece throw that was heavy and about four times her size. Noting a plate of shortbread biscuits on the low table in front of her, Bex helped herself – Septima watching all of this with amusement dancing in her dark eyes.
"My morning was fine, thank you," replied the professor. "Now. What is it about Severus bloody Snape that's got you so… bothered?"
"The man is impossible to interact with."
"That is not a unique experience, dear.
Septima joined her niece for a quick tea in the lounge area of her cozy office. She flicked her wand before sinking into a winged armchair opposite of Bex. The thick blue curtains and drapes beside them parted to allow in a little more daylight. The sun shined brightly, illuminating tiny particles of dust floating just out of reach. Next to the platter of shortbread biscuits was a tea service, and Septima began pouring a generous amount of hot water from the kettle into her tall mug. Meanwhile, Bex was nearly out of her skin with impatience. Being left in ignorance made her teeth itch; and she was beyond determined to find out more about the man… especially if he was going to continue crying out her name on the cusp of a nightmare.
It should have unsettled her. But, instead, she found herself more intrigued than anything.
"Auntie, please!"
"Alright, alright!" Septima sat back in her seat, taking a few sips of her tea as she tried to sort through her facts and memories. "The man is annoyingly private. Let's see… his birthday is in January. I'd already taken up my post here at the school when he came on as our Potions professor."
"The youngest in quite some time, right?"
Septima bowed her head. "Exactly. Horace Slughorn was retiring, and Severus was just completing his Mastery… so, Dumbledore brought him on, and he was an immediate favorite of no one."
Bex snorted a little. "Yeah, I can tell. Slytherin House seems to respect him, though."
Her aunt was quiet for a beat too long, and seemed to realize it when Bex's eyes lit up in an "aha!" moment.
"Auntie," she said deliberately. "I can feel the malevolent energy coming off that man in waves. Spill, please, I'm literally now begging you."
Septima sighed deeply. "There was a point in time where… after the fall of You-Know-Who, Severus stood accused of being a Death Eater."
Bex's head spun. Her body felt as though it had taken a plunge into the frigid waters of the Black Lake, despite the fire that roared nearby.
"I know what you're thinking. But I just want you to know that there simply exists no timeline where Albus Dumbledore would allow a known follower of You-Know-Who to continue working – Merlin, teaching –here at Hogwarts. I've heard that he himself has irrefutable evidence as to where Severus' loyalties lie."
Well… her aunt seemed to be certain of his supposed innocence. Bex couldn't be so sure, but kept her thoughts to herself all the same. She was living proof that people were not always what they seemed, and she refused to risk someone's career by accusing them of being a Death Eater so many years after the fall of Voldemort. Not to mention – there was a mad ex-Auror lurking somewhere in the castle, who'd already resorted to practicing Unforgivables on students, and was probably itching to do worse to a formerly accused Death Eater.
"Who accused him?" she asked. "When was this?"
"Just after the war finally ended. It was Igor Karkaroff who pointed the finger at Severus, ironically enough – a confirmed Death Eater who only got off because he gave up the names of several more of his compatriots. How he was ever allowed to be a headmaster is so beyond my understanding – I'd never set foot in that school."
As Septima spoke, the icy feeling returned, and Bex shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She thought about yesterday and how earnestly Karkaroff had spoken to Snape, though the Potions Master seemed keen on ignoring the man and effectively ending their interaction. A lot of the pieces of his puzzle were beginning to line up; not yet fitting together, but presenting themselves to her one by one so she could later examine and carefully put them in the right place.
"And now he's camped out in our backyard."
"I told you – the man is unbelievable," Septima mumbled into her tea, referring now to the their own headmaster. "As if we don't have enough going on here."
No sooner had the words left her mouth when rapid knocking sounded on Septima's office door. The person did not wait for permission to enter, instead hurtling themselves into the room, looking about frantically like they were searching for something – someone.
"Adam!" Bex immediately sprung into action at the sight of one of her apprentices, flinging off the heavy blanket she was under, and quickly slipping on her shoes. They, like her interns at Erinlẹ's, only came to her on her breaks if they encountered a situation that was well out of their control.
"Healer K! You have to come – Fawcett! Shelly Fawcett – the swelling! - I've never seen…"
The Gryffindor looked as though he was going to be sick, appearing quite green in the face even as he panted harshly, probably having ran all the way to the seventh floor from the Hospital Wing without taking any shortcuts.
Bex placed a steadying hand on Adam's shoulder with a gentle hum, Occluding her mind and effectively channeling the vision of his death to her subconscious. To be seen later, when she was least expecting it. He relaxed under her hand, the green fading from his pale, freckled cheeks. "Let's go," she said, steering him towards the door. Over her shoulder, she continued, "Thank you for listening, Auntie. See you at the feast – maybe."
"If you want to know more, talk to Minerva!" Septima called after her niece, already cracking open her planner to begin grading Arithmancy essays. "Word on the schoolyard says those two are as thick as thieves behind closed doors."
RK + SS
After receiving medical attention and a light admonishing from their matron, everyone in the infirmary had insisted they were well enough to attend the Halloween feast. Bex knew it was only because they wanted to see whose names would be chosen out of the Goblet of Fire. She'd looked all of her patients in the eye – Fawcett, Summers, the Weasley twins – and told them to never take such a risk with their lives again.
"No point now," Fred had grumbled with crossed arms. "Twenty-four hours just about up."
With no students in immediate need of care, Bex was free to attend the feast and see for herself which children would potentially be dead by this time next year. She cringed inwardly at her own morbid thinking, and promptly chided herself before filling her goblet with water. She sat now at the Head Table with her aunt on the left and Professor Sprout to her right, watching as the Hall filled up with students from all three schools. Once again, Beauxbatons sat with Ravenclaw House, and Dumstrang with Slytherin. Bex risked a glance down the table at Snape, who was watching his House with attentive, hawk-like eyes. All of a sudden, his face grew ever more irritated, and Bex quickly looked away to see who else would be filing into the Great Hall.
A tap on her arm, and a whispered "Look!" from Aunt Septima directed Bex's attention to the two half-giants who were entering the Hall arm-in-arm. It looked like.. Hagrid's hair had been combed? Bex shared a knowing grin with her aunt; her relationship with the Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures professor was still on tender ground – he often nervously bumped into things around her, stammering horrifically – but he didn't necessarily dislike having her around, which is what she'd worried about the most upon her arrival. He caught her grin, so she flashed him a thumb's up that he subtly returned with reddened cheeks.
The kitchen elves had once more outdone themselves in terms of an amazing spread of food. Bex was positive she would end this school year similarly to how she'd ended her first year at Mamello University – with an extra six or seven kilos. She loaded her plate with potpie and roasted potatoes, savoring each bite before the food inevitably disappeared. She looked to Dumbledore – he was definitely stretching out the eating portion of the feast, seeming to take endless delight in everyone's impatience. The Goblet of Fire was sat in front of him, raised on a pedestal and glittering ominously in the light of the Jack-o'-lanterns that decorated the Great Hall.
Finally, after some time, the food and table scraps all Vanished back to the kitchens, ceasing the loud chatter. The silence was punctuated by a few whispers and resounding shushes as the Hogwarts headmaster rose from his seat. Bex was just as anxious as the students sitting before them. Dumbledore beamed out at the children, and announced that the cup was just about ready to deliver the names of its three chosen champions. He did not even have to make use of the Sonorous charm – the Hall was so quiet beyond his commanding voice, one could hear a pin drop. The headmaster instructed the champions – when their names were called – to enter a small antechamber tucked away behind the Head Table, where they would receive instructions for the First Task. Thus, officially commencing the insanity.
Bex chewed her bottom lip nervously. They were all plunged into semi-darkness as Dumbledore extinguished the flickering Jack-o'-lanterns. A rush of cold air made the hair stand up on Bex's neck, and she shivered a little but didn't dare take her eyes off the goblet whose flames now sparked red. The flames suddenly reached a great height, and then, a small piece of parchment shot up out of the cup, fluttering wildly into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.
"Viktor Krum!"
The first champion was announced to thunderous applause – hooting, whooping, and cheering. The pro athlete confidently ambled up towards the Head Table, shaking Dumbledore's hand and receiving a heavy pat on the back from his own headmaster before disappearing into the chamber.
As the next two champions for Beauxbatons and Hogwarts were called, Bex slowly released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She clapped when she was supposed to clap, but otherwise felt mild contempt for the entire affair; her mind kept going back to dragons and Circe knew what else was awaiting these students. Cedric Diggory, a humble kid known for being a bit of a people-pleaser, followed Fleur Delacour into the antechamber with a dazed, lopsided smile on his face. The Hogwarts student body seemed (for the most part) pleased with their champion – Cedric had even received some polite, scattered applause from those seated at Slytherin table.
"Excellent!" said Dumbledore, over the last lingering shouts from Hufflepuff – at this, Bex couldn't help but smile a bit. If she and the headmaster agreed on one thing, it was that the student body's enthusiasm for their champion would be vital to seeing them succeed. He went on to explain and reiterate that no one was allowed to explicitly help any of the participants, as it would constitute cheating, but suddenly, he no longer had Bex's attention. The Goblet of Fire was again hissing and sparking a violent red.
"Auntie," she whispered briskly, "aren't there only supposed to be three –"
She and Dumbledore both abruptly stopped speaking, as the flames in the cup now grew higher and brighter than they had previously. Another small slip of parchment paper ricocheted out at the headmaster, this time a little more aggressively. He adjusted his spectacles, his breath coming out in an audible whooshing sound. A rock lodged itself firmly in Bex's gut at his long pause; and she knew, even before he opened his mouth to utter a word, whose name was written upon that parchment.
"Harry Potter."
"Fucking hell," swore Septima.