CHAPTER ELEVEN: INTERVIEWS, AND PERSONAL POLITICS
Unused Classroom
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
27 September 1994
Rita snapped her Drooble's Ever-Flavorful Minty-Fresh Gum and surveyed the room. Most of the champions were milling aimlessly around, although several weren't. Rita's eyes honed in on them. The ones who wandered around were usually the boring type - too dull to keep up a conversation, or too nervous to actually settle down. The others, however, were socializing nicely in small groups.
Rita chewed her gum thoughtfully. Cedric Diggory and Euan McGonagall were leaning against the wall, Diggory feigning nonchalance and McGonagall looking relaxed. There wasn't much of a story to spin with Diggory, other than the fact that his father was an obnoxious social climber. Nor was there much to say about Euan McGonagall; he was the grandson of the current clan chief, Moray McGonagall, and the grandnephew of Moray's sister, Minerva. Euan had the classic Scottish good looks - pale complexion, blue eyes, and dark wavy hair. Rita narrowed her eyes in thought. Diggory was quite good looking too, and the pair appeared quite friendly. Perhaps an illicit romance, the stress on Diggory to find a wife and take up his father's social climbing lifestyle despite his desire to have a more wholesome life with the McGonagall heir…
Rita's quill scratched furiously. Perhaps not right away, although she could start laying the groundwork for later rumors, especially if something juicier didn't surface. Rita scanned the crowd once more. Ah, the Delacour girl. Now that was a controversy if Rita knew one. Fleur Delacour was a quarter-veela, and from a prominent French family. Dolores Umbridge practically had an aneurysm anytime the Delacours were mentioned, and Rita had it from a reliable source that Dolores had been removed from a delegation to France for fear that she would cause a diplomatic disaster by insulting one of the Delacours or their friends.
Rita chomped on her gum. If only there was a way to get Dolores and Fleur Delacour in the same room together - now, that would be spectacular, and luckily for her, she could be as subtle as a bug on the wall. Baptiste Malfoy was standing next to Delacour, and Rita quickly dismissed him as yet another snob.
The last group of champions gave Rita pause. Both of the Krum brothers - the oldest, Viktor, looking quite like a large bird of prey - and Stefan, the younger brother, who fortunately had avoided inheriting his brother's overly large nose. Oddly enough, Hermione Granger was standing next to them. It had taken Rita a moment to recognize the girl who'd given her an excellent tip on Gilderoy Lockhart. Granger had clearly found a better hair product, or otherwise had stopped brushing her curls dry like an absolute idiot. Idly, Rita wondered how Granger had ended up talking to the younger Krum before dismissing the thought. Granger had given her good information, and if Rita didn't pry too much into her personal life, perhaps she could get another inside scoop.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Rita jumped, lost as she was in thought. The old wizard was wearing a particularly insipid pair of robes today in a rich shade of magenta with tiny twinkling moons. "If I may have your attention… today, as you know, we will be conducting the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, which will be followed by photos and interviews for the Daily Prophet, courtesy of the lovely Rita Skeeter -"
Rita smiled, and tried to look honest.
"- and her assistant, Bozo. Now, if you could all line up so that Lord Ollivander may weigh your wand…"
Rita paid little attention to the wand weighing ceremony, as wandlore was both esoteric and boring. The only interesting tidbit was that Delacour's wand held one of her grandmother's hairs, which seemed quite scandalous. The French really did have odd ideas about what was socially acceptable.
Dumbledore began to speak again, and Rita forced herself to listen. "If you could devote your attention to Ms. Skeeter, I believe she wishes to begin with photos?"
Rita nodded quickly. "We will begin with individual photos. Line up where Bozo is set up."
The students obediently walked over, although Delacour's walk was closer to a glide. Rita forcibly stifled any feelings of insecurity. It was rather illuminating, watching the students take their photos. Of course, she couldn't focused all of her efforts on observing — while Bozo wasn't completely incompetent, he wasn't the brightest photographer in the department and required significant input from her. Fortunately, most of the champions were easy to photograph - they were all decently attractive, with the exception of Viktor Krum, but he at least knew how to handle photos. Werner Dietrich, the youngest Durmstrang champion, was a different matter. He was a boy with particularly average looks, with the exception of his eyes, which came across eerily blank each time Bozo photographed him.
After the individual shots, it was time for group photos. The photos of each school's champions were easy enough for Bozo, and Rita chewed her gum thoughtfully as she considered possible article angles. Sibling rivalry between the Krum brothers? Definitely a possibility. A love interest between Delacour and another competitor? Also a good option.
Rita drummed her fingers against her thigh. Delacour and Granger, the only two female champions, and on top of that, Granger as the only muggleborn in the competition? Absolutely.
"Any las' pictures yeh want, Rita?" Bozo asked.
"One more - of Granger and Delacour."
Delacour waltzed over, and Granger, who clearly had never participated in a photoshoot before, looked frustrated before composing herself. The girls tried several poses - sitting in armchairs, perched on the edge of the chairs, and standing - but nothing seemed to be working. Delacour was just too damn poised, and Rita would be damned if she didn't get a good photo. Rita's eyes narrowed. If there was one thing that could hold attention for half a second alongside Delacour's beauty, it was Granger's hair, which was currently fastened back in a sensible plait.
Rita aggressively chewed her gum. "Granger, take your hair out of the plait," she said, ignoring the girl's confused expression. "Delacour, stand at an angle to her. No, face the camera a bit more, and step back about six centimeters. Both of you, I want you to look fierce. Like you have something to prove."
Delacour's chin tilted towards the camera, her features sliding into a practiced look of hauteur while Granger lifted her chin, a touch of defiance in every line of her body and hair spiraling wildly out of control.
Bozo started snapping pictures, and Rita discreetly pointed her wand at the girls. "Ventus."
A slight breeze surged forward, lifting their hair. It was a moment Rita felt would become iconic.
Several days later, the photo appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet, alongside the provocative title Impartial or Sexist: A Closer Look at the Triwizard Champions. Of course, photos of the other champions appeared as well, but only in the continuation of the article on page three. A handful of angry wizards wrote letters to the editor about that, and there were a few astonishingly crude letters about how a muggleborn witch and a quarter veela made their way into the Triwizard Tournament. All the other letters, however, were effusive, and Teen Witch Weekly even wanted to know if Rita had other photos from the shoot they could use in a spread. The Triwizard Champions were all Wizarding Britain could talk about for a couple days, and even Rita was surprised at how well her article had done. She would have been even more surprised, however, if she'd known just how far the news had spread.
Thousands of kilometers away, Madelaine Dolohova, née Delacour, delicately picked at her morning croissant in the spacious dining area of Zamok Holodnogo Ognja. A bowl of fresh fruit and a copy of the Daily Prophet graced the table in front of her.
Madelaine glanced at the cover of the Prophet and smirked at her husband. "And what do you make of this?" she asked in Russian.
Sergei finished chewing and smiled. It was not a particularly nice smile. "She greatly resembles Viktoriya. Time will tell if she also has her grandmother's talents."
"It certainly would appear that your little cousin is talented."
"Mm. And she does have your cousin to guide her."
"Of course. It is not as if we have a shortage of family currently at Hogwarts."
Sergei nodded, eyes elsewhere. "After this year, we will add one more to the fold."
This time, it was Madelaine's turn to smile.
Wizengamot Chambers
London, England
30 September 1994
Percy Weasley was frustrated. Or, perhaps more accurately, frustrated, annoyed, and irritated. When he'd first accepted his job at the Ministry and his place on the Wizengamot as Lord Prewett, he hadn't imagined it would be like this. Instead of working to serve the common wizard, a decent portion of the Wizengamot Lords seemed to view their job as a status symbol rather than an avenue to do good in the world. It was particularly infuriating when the Blood Purists decided to blatantly ignore the former Death Eater accusations which had been levied against House Rookwood, and should have thoroughly disqualified them from seeking Ascendency.
After the most recent vote, the Ascendency candidates were narrowed down to Rookwood, Runcorn, and Marchbanks. Despite the former allegations against House Rookwood, it was the three candidates everyone knew would be the forerunners since the beginning. And yet, the entire process had to be dragged out over the course of a year. It was patently ridiculous.
"And for these reasons," Lord Gamp was saying, "I oppose Lord Gaunt's proposition. While I agree that those who are muggleborn and muggle-raised must be educated about the rich history and culture of our society, I do not believe that the Wizengamot ought to interfere with the rights of minors outside of Hogwarts. Furthermore, I see this as a transparent attempt by Lord Gaunt to funnel more funds into his summer camps as he clearly has a conflict of interest."
"Lord Gaunt, do you wish to reply?" asked the Moderator.
Lord Gaunt smiled. Oh, how Percy hated that smile. Most people were charmed by it, but Percy found it unsettling. "Certainly. Honored lords and ladies, Lord Gamp makes a valuable point - that is, it would be a valuable point if my summer camps were the only solution for which I am advocating. My proposal focused primarily on cultural immersion summer camps funded and sponsored by the Ministry with secondary options of attending a privately funded summer camp with equivalent cultural activities or fostering in a Wizarding family home. As I previously discussed, the objective with this proposal is to educate the muggleborn and muggle-raised on the rich traditions the Wizarding World has to offer -"
The Moderator banged the gavel. "Thank you, Lord Gaunt."
If Lord Gaunt was annoyed at being cut off, he didn't show it. Percy was mildly jealous. It seemed as if nothing could break Gaunt's composure while Percy occasionally got nervous before he even stood to address the Wizengamot. Of course, a lot of it came down to practice and experience, and Percy was the youngest sitting Lord, but it didn't mean he couldn't be envious.
"Lord Malfoy, you are recognized."
Lucius Malfoy walked gracefully to the front, and Percy squashed his inner anger at the man. Malfoy was another Wizengamot Lord whom Percy hated with a vengeance. He was a slippery, smooth talking, immoral arse, and he constantly tag teamed with Lord Gaunt to push Blood Purist and Traditionalist legislation through the Wizengamot. There were even rumors of covert bribes between Malfoy and the Minister of Magic, and Percy had no doubt that it was true. Anyone with half a brain who read the Daily Prophet could tell they were in Lucius Malfoy's pocket...along with most of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
"...and that," Lord Malfoy was saying, "is precisely why Lord Gaunt's plan has great merit. Without proper education, we cannot expect muggleborns and muggle-raised individuals to fully integrate into our society. Who are we, as witches and wizards of privilege, to deny this subsection of our population the experiences they need to become successful? Thank you."
Percy could hear his own teeth grinding. It was despicable, the way Lord Malfoy pushed forward a Blood Purist campaign under the guise of Neutral-Traditionalism. He could see that Gaunt and Malfoy only wanted to bring muggleborns further under pureblood control, and couldn't fathom why the rest of the Wizengamot wasn't protesting more. Sure, there were token complaints from old Lord Gamp, Lord Fawley, and Lord Dagworth, and much stronger complaints from Lord MacMillan, Lord Moran, and the Progressive bloc, but most wizards seemed surprisingly comfortable with Lord Gaunt's proposal.
The Moderator banged his gavel, jolting Percy out of his thoughts. "All in favor of concluding debate for today, light your wands."
Percy glanced at his pocket watch and lifted his lit wand. It really was getting late.
"All those not in favor?"
No wands were raised.
The Moderator banged his gavel. "I declare discussion for today closed."
There was a rumbling as the members of the House of Lords stood and moved towards the exit. Someone tapped his shoulder.
"Percy."
He started slightly. "Bill. You startled me."
Bill grimaced. "Sorry. Amelia Bones wants to speak with us."
"About?"
"You'll find out," Bill said cryptically. "Follow me."
Bill wove through the crowd, and Percy struggled to keep up. Much to his surprise, they didn't head towards the DMLE offices, but rather deeper into the bowels of the Ministry.
"Where are we -?" Percy began.
"Later."
After several twists and turns, they arrived in front of a plain oak door. Bill rapped sharply on it twice with his knuckles, and the door swung open. Feeling more than a bit nervous, Percy followed his brother in. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to lie beyond the door, but it certainly wasn't a well furnished conference room. Lady Regent Bones was already present, along with Lords MacMillan, Moran, and Moon. Oddly enough, Rufus Scrimgeour, the Chief Auror was also present.
Percy took a deep breath to calm himself as Bones cast a complex locking charm on the door.
"You may be wondering," Bones began, "why we called you here for a meeting. Before we begin, I will require an oath of secrecy from each of you, as the matters we will discuss not only contain a certain degree of speculation but also may jeopardize the future of Wizarding Britain."
Percy looked at Bill, who nodded. Given that there was nothing objectionable in the oath, the group quickly swore it.
Bones took a breath, and continued. "There is something wrong in Ireland," she began. Lord Moran looked as if he wished to object, and Bones held up a hand to silence him. "Not in Northern Ireland, but in Ireland. The wardstones haven't changed, but the power behind them has greatly increased. The last time this happened was in 1972."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees.
"The Morholt coven has reportedly isolated themselves from the other covens, and their motivation remains unclear."
Lord Moran paled.
"I have a … source who believes the Sayre and Rowen covens are behind the change in the ward schema," Bones continued. "The Quirke and Quigley covens are thought to be neutral in scenario."
Lord Moran rested his head in his hands, fingers massaging his temples.
"Rufus brought it to my attention that support for Blood Purist and Traditionalist legislation has increased recently, and the last time we saw a surge this strong was in 1972, just prior to the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Lord MacMillan swore, and Percy stared at Bill, goosebumps running down his spine.
"Is it Him, then?" Percy heard his voice ask.
Silence hung in the air for a moment too long. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed nearly thirteen years ago," Scrimgeour said finally.
Lord MacMillan ran a hand through his silver stained red hair. "Do you believe that?"
"Yes."
"But?"
Scrimgeour sighed. "Recently, there have been attacks...attacks disturbingly similar to the ones that broke out in the winter of '75."
MacMillan and Moran looked horrified, and Percy was overwhelmed by an impending sense of doom.
"And for those of us who were children then," Bill began, "what sort of attacks are these?"
Scrimgeour just looked at him, eyes dead. "Attacks against muggles. Gruesome attacks against muggles. Not very many, and not very often, but we've found dead muggles with all their internal organs removed. Either that, or all the skin was removed."
Percy almost threw up.
Great Hall
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
6 October 1994
Hermione fidgeted again, usually filled with nervous energy. It wasn't even as if anything big was happening - a lot of the gossip over the Goblet of Fire's choices and the ensuring Daily Prophet article and Teen Witch Weekly spread had finally died down. It was, however, the informational session on the dueling tournament. The Great Hall was filled with people, and it seemed like over half the school had shown up, along with all the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Hermione and Lily had to engage in some serious cajoling to convince Millie to show up, and the taller girl looked generally uncomfortable.
Millie looked uneasy most times, Hermione realized. The thought was rather discomfiting, especially when it dawned on her that Millie's odd behavior had started at the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It was strange, and somewhat disturbing, and Hermione made a mental note to talk to Lily about it later.
Hermione craned her neck as Professor Runcorn strode out onto the dais. She'd only interacted with him a couple times during the Slytherin-only supplementary DADA classes second year that Professor Prince had organized due to Lockhart's gross incompetence. Professor Runcorn had been very competent, and Hermione was glad he was in charge of the dueling tournament.
"Can everyone hear me?" Professor Runcorn asked, voice booming across the Great Hall. "Yes? Excellent. I am Professor Runcorn, and I am the Hogwarts dueling professor. I will be the lead coordinator of the dueling tournament, as well as several practice sessions which will be open to all students, regardless of school affiliation."
Hermione grinned. That would certainly be exciting, as well as a good way to test her skills for the Triwizard tasks.
"The tournament will be divided into four divisions: first and second years; third and fourth years; fifth and sixth years; and seventh years. The tournament will take place after the third Triwizard task, and will be held in double elimination style. This means that you will be guaranteed two duels."
A murmur of interest passed through the Great Hall.
"Depending on numbers, we may have certain students receive a bye into the next round of the tournament," Professor Runcorn continued. "I will work alongside the Hogwarts DADA professors, as well as the teaching staff visiting us from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to determine appropriate matchups so everyone can have a fruitful dueling experience. The first open practice session will be held in the Great Hall on the Saturday following Samhain. Further information will be posted on the notice boards in your common rooms. If you have any immediate questions, you may ask me now; otherwise, I hold office hours from nine to ten, Monday through Friday, and in the hour immediately following lunch on Monday through Thursday.
"I hope to see all of you at the open practice session." With that, Professor Runcorn stepped down from the dais.
Hermione turned to her friends and grinned. "So are you excited or what?"
Lily's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Obviously! I'm definitely entering - and we should also plan time on our own to practice and do some mock duels - maybe we can even get Harry and Ron to join us."
Hermione nodded eagerly. "Oh, that's definitely a good idea! And besides, it won't just be good for the dueling tournament - I'd imagine it'll help us with DADA as well."
Lily elbowed her in the side. "Of course the first thing you think of is getting better marks."
"Oh, shut it. And I think of other things, too."
"Like boys?" Lily asked, drawing out the word.
"No!" Hermione protested a little too quickly. "Like the Triwizard Tournament, and how I've got to kick arse."
"Suuure."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Lily."
Lily held her hands up in defense. "If you say so."
"Hmph."
"Millie, do you think you'll enter?" Lily asked.
Millie shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I've got to talk to family first."
"You know you can make your own choices, right?" Hermione asked. "I mean, you're almost fourteen."
Millie's expression turned surprisingly bitter. "No, I can't. You both should know that." Millie walked off, leaving Hermione and Lily standing together.
"I am concerned about her," Hermione said once the silence had stretched for too long. "Really, truly, concerned."
A/N: To answer some of the questions that have popped up in reviews…
Q. What's Voldemort up to?
A. For now, still (mostly) secret things. If you're curious, I'd suggest re-reading the last chapter of Black Bishop and taking a closer look at what Trelawney says.
Q. Did Trelawney make a prophecy?
A. Nope! This Trelawney is just more competent.
As always, thanks for reading!